Chapter 3
Sabine
Detective Reilly flipped his notebook shut. “We’ll have the car towed to our facility. Arson team will process it and I’ll be in touch when we’ve got something.” He slid a card across the table. “That’s my desk and cell. Call if you remember anything, or if anyone decides to make another point.”
He exited as quickly as he’d arrived. Barb waited until the door shut behind him before she gathered her things. “Remember what we talked about, Sabine. Keep it to the facts of the fire. If anyone calls you directly, refer them to me.”
The newsroom had shifted back into its usual rhythm: the clatter of keyboards, the ring of phones, the hum of the police scanner near the metro desk. I opened my laptop and tried to focus on follow-up calls for a different piece, but my mind kept snagging on the same images.
One of the ledgers I’d published was burned into my memory.
Columns of numbers marching down the page, each line tagged with the name of a company no one could trace past a P.O.
box. And tucked between the real estate transfers and “consulting fees” were the cash withdrawals: fifty thousand here, eighty thousand there, all signed off by a single hand.
I could still see the photograph of that hand. Matteo Bellante at a charity auction, pen in hand as he signed a check for the city’s children’s hospital. Same ring on his finger. Same watch on his wrist.
The clock over the copy desk ticked into the next hour before Mark appeared at the far end of the room with two women in black.
They moved like they had never known a day without confidence.
The taller one had close-cropped blond hair and eyes the color of winter sky.
Her gaze moved over the room until it landed on me.
The other woman was broader through the shoulders, her skin warm brown under the overhead lights, her dark eyes steady and unreadable.
Mark stopped at my desk. “Sabine, this is Kara Shaw and Eleanor Mercer. They’re your security detail until further notice.”
I pushed back my chair. “I just want it on the record that I don’t like this.”
The taller one stepped closer. “Noted. Keys?”
“What?”
“Your keys,” she said. It was a command, not a request.
Eleanor hung back a half-step, her attention taking in my desk, my posture, the bag by my feet.
I handed Kara my key ring. “This is unnecessary.”
“Phone,” she said next. “Now.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Why?”
“To make sure it isn’t compromised.”
I gave it to her. My fingerprints smeared the screen. She passed a small black device over my phone. The light stayed green. “We’ll finish later,” she said quietly, handing it back to me.
Mark cleared his throat and spoke in a low tone. “They’ll take you home to pack. You’re staying at a secure location. Don’t fight it, Sabine. We need you to stay alive.”
I thought about arguing, but the memory of the wall of emergency vehicles downstairs shut my mouth. I nodded once, letting the fight drain out of me.
The tall blond woman, Kara, picked up my bag from the floor and held it open. “Pack up. We leave in five.”
My laptop went in first, followed by the charger and two spiral notebooks. I slipped three large binders of research and notes next to the laptop. The bag sagged under the weight, the straps creaking in her hands. She shifted it to her shoulder, and I caught the dark line of a holster strap.
“You need all of this?” she asked, nodding at my desk.
“Not all of it, but some,” I said, sliding my pen case into my leather purse.
The other woman was beside me. She picked up one of my old reporter’s pads. “You keep these?”
I grabbed it back, my fingers brushing hers. “Eleanor, right? Yeah, I collect them.”
She gave me a long look, like she was weighing whether my nerve was worth the trouble, before giving a single nod.
I crammed the shorthand pads into my purse and zipped it shut with difficulty. Kara’s eyes tracked every movement, her jaw set like she was already thinking three steps ahead.
I swung the strap over my shoulder. “Ready.”
She stepped toward the aisle, a silent cue for me to move. I stayed where I was a moment longer, watching her.
“You planning on herding me all the way to the car?” I asked.
“If that’s what it takes.” Her eyes swept the room again before landing back on me. “The Bellantes don’t send warnings for show. You’re already on their list.”
“That list probably has politicians, cops, maybe a few judges. I’m a reporter. They can’t just make me disappear without people noticing.”
“They can make you wish they had,” she said. Her tone was flat, like she’d seen it done.
Eleanor shifted her stance beside us. “They’ve ruined people without ever touching them. You don’t have to be in the same room for them to take you apart.”
I met her gaze, expecting to find the same hard edge Kara wore. Instead, her expression was steady, almost calm, but it carried the same weight.
“Sounds dramatic,” I said, though my voice didn’t land as sharp as I meant it to.
Kara tilted her head toward the exit. “Let’s move.”
She took point as we crossed the bullpen, moving at a pace that was fast enough to make me feel like I was trailing behind. Eleanor stayed close at my back, her footfalls quiet against the low hum of conversation and ringing phones.
Mark stepped out of his office as we neared, and I paused.
“Be safe, Sabine. Listen to them. Do what they say.”
I rolled my eyes, but let him wrap his arms around me in a hug that felt more like a goodbye than I was comfortable acknowledging.
“I’ll be back at work before you know it.” I kissed his cheek.
“You better be. It’s going to be quiet around here without you giving me shit ten times a day.”
I forced a smile as I walked away.
Kara stepped into the elevator first, turning to face the hall, a wall of black fabric and muscle between me and the doors.
Eleanor came in last, pressing the button for the first floor.
Boxed between them, my shoulder brushed Kara’s arm.
Eleanor’s breath stirred a strand of my hair, deliberate or not, I couldn’t tell.
The only sound was the groan of the cables when the elevator moved.
Both women kept their eyes on the seam where the doors met, posture sharp, leaving me nowhere to go but still.
The doors opened to the bright reception area. Kara cut to the right, checking the hallway before nodding to Eleanor, who guided me forward, her firm hand on my elbow. At the side door, Kara stepped outside first. I raised an eyebrow at Eleanor, who ignored me.
When Kara returned a moment later, she nodded and Eleanor propelled me forward again. Out the doors, down the sidewalk past parked cars. The smell of burnt rubber and heat filled the air, and I shivered. My poor car.
We stopped alongside a dark SUV and Kara moved to the driver’s side, crouching to glance underneath. Eleanor stood angled toward me, her eyes moving in every direction at once.
“Inside,” Kara said, unlocking the rear door.
The solid click of the lock sounded louder than it should have. I slid in, the leather cool against my legs, and the door shut with a final, heavy thud. Kara started the engine while Eleanor adjusted her side mirror. I pulled the belt across my chest until it locked in place.
The SUV pulled out into traffic and we drove slowly past the few police cars still gathered at the entrance of the underground garage. I stared at the cafe across the street, wondering if Dom was watching.
The silence stretched until Eleanor pressed a button on the cord at her collar. “Moving out now,” she said into the mic. “On our way to the rendezvous point.”
I leaned forward slightly. “Where are we going?”
She lifted a finger without looking back, finished her transmission, then touched the button again. “Copy,” she said, and let the line go quiet.
Finally, she turned her head toward me. “Your apartment. You’ll need to pack.”
“Pack? To go where?”
Neither of them answered. Sunlight strobed across the dash as we moved through the city streets. The familiar streets felt different, as if I were watching them on television.
Kara caught my eye in the rearview mirror. “Don’t worry, Ms. Barrett. It will be fine.”
I looked to Eleanor. She met my gaze, the corner of her mouth tipping into a faint smile. “We’ll keep you safe,” she said, and winked.
It didn’t make me feel any better.
The tall blonde woman drove with both hands on the wheel, her posture rigid and her gaze moving between the road, the side mirrors, and the rearview. Eleanor angled herself slightly toward her window, following the sidewalks and intersections as we passed.
Kara spoke into her mic. “Unit one, passing Commerce and Fifth.” Her voice was low, almost flat. She released the button without glancing away from the street ahead.
I shifted my focus to the people outside: two women with shopping bags, a man leaning into a food truck window, a courier weaving through traffic on a bike. Ordinary moments, none of them looking our way.
The hum of the engine filled the space between the clipped exchanges over comms. I tried to track what they were watching, but I couldn’t narrow it down. They seemed to be watching it all: doorways, alleys, parked cars, rooftops. Places I’d never given a second thought.
We stopped at a red light near the park. A bus idled beside us, its side plastered with a law firm ad. Kara’s gaze swept the driver, then the mirrors, then forward again. Eleanor scanned the crosswalk until the light changed.
I laced my fingers in my lap. I’d taken this route countless times, but never like this. Every turn they made felt calculated, as if each street had been chosen to control the angles, the traffic, the view behind us.
Kara eased the SUV to the curb half a block from my building. She stepped out without a word.
“This is a nice neighborhood,” I said. “It’s not a war zone.”