Chapter 4 - THREE MINUTES
“Put her on the phone.”
The man laughed.
“Bossy. Just like your father.”
My knees nearly gave out.
Dominic reached for my phone.
I stepped away.
“If you hurt her—”
“You’ll what?”
I could hear something in the background.
A television.
Mom’s television.
They were inside our apartment.
My whole body went cold.
The man continued.
“Bring the key. Come alone.”
“Where?”
“You’ll get instructions.”
The call ended.
I was already moving.
Dominic caught my arm.
“No.”
I spun.
“Take your hand off me.”
“You walk into that apartment alone, you’re dead.”
“My mother is there.”
“I know.”
“You don’t know anything.”
His face hardened.
“I know exactly what men like Salvatore do to leverage.”
I shoved him.
“Then get out of my way.”
He didn’t move.
Marco stepped forward.
“We can be in Cicero in forty minutes.”
“I can do it in thirty.”
“In your car?”
“Yes.”
Dominic looked through the window at the storm.
“You’ll die before Salvatore gets the chance.”
I hated that he was probably right.
Ten minutes later, I was in the back of Dominic’s armored SUV.
I called Mom again.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
I felt twelve years old.
Helpless.
Marco drove like traffic laws were optional.
Dominic sat across from me.
“You need to stay calm.”
“Don’t tell me to stay calm.”
“If you rush in—”
“If something happens to her, I’m blaming you.”
He accepted that without argument.
“You should.”
That made me angrier.
We reached Cicero in thirty-four minutes.
My building looked normal.
That terrified me more.
No broken windows.
No police.
No screaming neighbors.
Dominic stopped me at the entrance.
“Three minutes.”
“What?”
“Give Marco three minutes to clear the stairs.”
“No.”
“Avery.”
I looked him dead in the eye.
“You’ve had eight years.”
He let go.
I ran.
Third floor.
Apartment 3C.
Our door was open.
“Mom!”
I burst inside.
Living room empty.
Kitchen empty.
Chair overturned.
Dialysis medication scattered across the floor.
“Mom!”
A sound came from the bedroom.
I ran in.
She was sitting on the bed.
Alive.
Hands shaking.
“Avery?”
I dropped beside her.
“Oh my God.”
She grabbed me.
“They were here.”
“Did they hurt you?”
“No.”
I checked her face, wrists, arms.
“Who?”
“Two men.”
“What did they want?”
She looked past me as Dominic entered the doorway.
Her face changed.
Not confusion.
Recognition.
Dominic stopped.
“Mrs. Carter.”
Mom stood.
Slowly.
“You.”
I stared between them.
“You know him?”
Mom’s eyes filled with tears.
She slapped Dominic across the face.
Hard.
Marco reached forward.
Dominic lifted one hand.
“Don’t.”
Mom’s voice shook.
“You have some nerve walking into my home.”
“Mom, what is happening?”
She looked at me.
For the first time in my life, I saw fear in her eyes that had nothing to do with being sick.
“Your father warned me this man might come one day.”
I stepped back.
“What?”
Mom opened her nightstand.
She removed an old envelope.
My name was written across the front in Dad’s handwriting.
AVERY.
My hands started trembling.
“I was supposed to give you this if anyone ever asked about the key,” she whispered.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because your father made me promise.”
I tore the envelope open.
Inside was one sheet of paper.
Three sentences.
Avery,
If you’re reading this, they found you.
Don’t trust the police.
May you like
And whatever you do—
don’t trust Dominic Moretti.
