Prologue #3
She wasn’t worried about the police questioning her about entering the home where a murder might have been committed.
Still, a prickling on the back of her neck made her hurry away, careful to keep her eyes open and remain situationally aware of anyone lurking in the dark shadows or following her to her car.
She’d made it into her car and pulled out of the alley, heading for her apartment, when she spotted a dark SUV in her rearview mirror.
Sure, there were plenty of dark SUVs in Virginia.
She had nothing to worry about. To prove to herself she wasn’t being followed, she turned right at the next corner.
Halfway down the block, she laughed at herself for being paranoid. At the next corner, she slid to a halt at a four-way stop. A black SUV pulled up to the stop sign on her right. Coincidence?
Cate frowned and pressed the accelerator a little harder than necessary, sending her car leaping forward.
The black SUV turned right and followed.
Fuck coincidence.
Cate waited until the last moment to turn left, barely slowing as she pulled onto the street.
The back of her vehicle fishtailed as she took the corner much faster than she normally would have.
As soon as the car straightened, she jammed her foot on the accelerator and shot forward, heading for a traffic light that had just turned yellow.
She blasted through the light as it turned from yellow to red. Then her gaze darted to the rearview mirror.
The SUV didn’t have time to catch up before cross traffic entered the intersection.
A steady flow of vehicles kept the SUV from blasting through the intersection.
Whether the driver had been following her in earnest or he’d just been headed the same direction, Cate didn’t know, nor did she care, as long as she put sufficient distance between her car and the SUV before she headed for her apartment.
Once she made it to her apartment, she hurried inside, pulled out her cell phone and dialed the number on the receipt.
“Hello,” a male voice answered with a decidedly British accent.
Cate hadn’t expected anyone to answer so quickly. “Hello, this is Cate Marsh. Could I speak with Marcus Calloway?”
Silence stretched for a few long seconds.
“Hello?” Cate prompted. “Are you still there?”
“Yes, ma’am,” the male voice said again. “Who did you say you are?”
“I’m Cate Marsh, a friend of Marcus Calloway. Is he there?” she asked.
“Not right now, he isn’t,” the man said.
“Do you know when he’ll be in?” Cate asked. “It’s critical I speak with him.”
“I expect he’ll be here tomorrow. Seein’ as how he’s in charge of the project,” the man paused. “Are there issues we need to address before he arrives?”
Cate’s brow knitted. “Uh, nothing that can’t wait until he can answer the phone himself.”
“You should call his cell phone,” the man said. “He usually answers on the first ring.”
“I’ve misplaced that number. Do you happen to have it?”
The man gave a soft snort. “I can forward it to your number. Wait just a minute.”
Cate held her breath as the man on the other end of the call fumbled with the phone. A moment later, a text arrived with a phone number labeled “Marcus Calloway”.
“Got it,” Cate said. “And what’s your name, sir? I’d like to let Mr. Calloway know how helpful you were.”
“Freddie Hackett,” he said.
“Thank you, Mr. Hackett. And you say Calloway’s supposed to be there tomorrow?”
“That’s my guess,” Freddie said.
“What time are you expecting him?” Cate asked.
“I don’t rightly know,” Freddie responded. A voice called to him from the background. “I gotta go, miss.”
“Thanks again,” Cate said as the line went dead.
As soon as the call ended, she got online, booked an overnight flight to London, and looked up the address on the bill of lading.
She didn’t have time to reconsider. If Marcus Calloway was alive, he’d be in London tomorrow.
If he was dead...well, then he wouldn’t be there, and she’d check into his dealings with the freight company.
Since the bill of lading had been hidden inside the picture frame, Cate surmised the freight shipped wasn’t something he was shipping for his position within the State Department.
That meant he had something going on the side, possibly something that might not be legal.
An excellent reason for a man to want to stage a disappearance.
Who better to take the fall than the most likely suspect?
His wife.
Anger burned in Cate’s gut. The same gut that knew Marcus Calloway was alive.
She’d find the bastard and nail his ass to the wall before letting him get away with faking his own death and setting up his wife to go to jail for a murder she hadn’t committed. A murder that hadn’t happened at all.
Once she had her flight booked and a ride arranged to take her to the airport, she threw her passport, a change of clothes, toiletries, and her laptop into a backpack and waited outside her apartment building for her ride.
While she waited, she texted her father to let him know she would be working in London and that she shouldn’t be gone for more than a week.
Her gut told her she was on the right path and that it wasn’t going to be a smooth ride.