Christopher watched as I pried it up.
Beneath the floor was a metal box.
Inside were flash drives.
Documents.
Photographs.
And one small prepaid phone.
Christopher stared at it.
“That could destroy Marcus.”
A floorboard creaked downstairs.
We froze.
Christopher whispered, “Did you lock the door?”
“Yes.”
Another sound.
Footsteps.
Christopher reached for his phone.
No signal.
Then Marcus Bennett appeared in the doorway.
He held a gun.
My blood turned to ice.
“You always were persistent, Christopher.”
I moved instinctively in front of the wheelchair.
Marcus smiled.
“And you must be Rachel.”
“You knew my brother.”
“Oh, I knew Ryan very well.”
My hands clenched.
“Where is he?”
Marcus tilted his head.
“Still hopeful?”
Christopher said, “Put the gun down.”
Marcus laughed.
“What exactly are you going to do?”
