“Me neither.” Long term, I couldn’t see any sane person putting up with Emmy’s craziness or Black’s psycho-ness. Was that even a word? “So the money could’ve got stolen from the FBI office or from here?”
“The FBI ruled out theft at their end, and Dan said nobody could have taken it from here. The security system at Little Riverley monitored every door and window, and nobody entered or exited all night. In fact, nobody came or went from the whole estate. There’s a network of sensors that surrounds the entire perimeter. Apparently, there was a breach by a team of professionals a few years ago, but they only got in because some of the motion detectors had been obscured by undergrowth. At the time of the theft, the system had just been installed and everything was working perfectly. Plus there were two men in the guardhouse at the end of the drive and an additional roving patrol.”
“What if it was the guards?”
“Questioned and ruled out. And they’d still have had to get into Little Riverley, don’t forget. Would you want to try sneaking into Emmy’s house?”
Not with the number of guns she kept handy.
“You said there were four places—what about the other two?”
“Alaric stopped for gas on the way here. Rather than lug the briefcase inside when he went to pay, he left it in the trunk. According to his statement, he could see the car from the kiosk, but for a minute or so, a panel truck parked in the way while he was waiting in line. The car alarm didn’t go off, though.”
The thieves would have had to be pretty organised to nick the cash in that tiny window.
“And the fourth place?”
“The pay-off-for-painting exchange was meant to take place on a boat, and the sea was rough, so the crew hauled the briefcase on board first. Alaric said it was out of sight for maybe thirty seconds while he climbed up the ladder.”
“So they could have swapped it?”
“Yes, but only if they had another briefcase already pre-packed with the fake pay-off. And more importantly, with the same three-digit combination set to open it.”
There was one obvious answer. “So several people were in cahoots, right? Someone from the FBI, and either an accomplice at the gas station or one of the bad guys on the boat.”
“That was the path the original investigation went down, but nobody found a link. It didn’t help that most of the men on the boat died in the gunfight at the end. And it’s still my favourite theory, although there is a fifth option.”
“Which is…?”
“That Alaric took the money.”
I barely knew him, but he didn’t strike me as a low-down dirty thief. After a nasty incident when I was fifteen, I’d learned to listen to my gut more, and he didn’t give off bad vibes.
“If that was the case, why didn’t he just ride off into the sunset with the money?”
“I don’t know the answer to that question,” Hallie admitted. She finished the last mouthful of her dinner and put down her fork. “And I’m going to start by reviewing the FBI files. I don’t trust them.”
“You have the actual FBI files?”
Hallie put a finger to her lips as she got up to load her plate into the dishwasher. “Copies. Shh.”
“Let me know if you find anything?”
“Sure. I’ll be here all week—my roommate’s gone to Colombia for a charity project, so I thought I’d take advantage of the facilities. Good luck with Rafael tomorrow.”
Her tone said I’d need it.
As Hallie’s footsteps receded along the tiled hallway, I realised my own dinner was going cold. But I did feel more awake. Much as I hated to admit it, the Emerald mystery had me intrigued, and even though I should have been focusing on the basics, like, you know, staying alive, I also wanted to look through those files. Hallie had left a stack of folders on the table, no doubt ready for the morning. I opened the top one and began to read.
“Here, drink this.”
Toby handed me a smoothie as I trailed Alex to the gym. Bless that man. Toby, not Alex. Alex was basically a mob enforcer with the empathy of a rabid bull.
“Thanks.”
I’d need every scrap of energy. Rafael still hadn’t turned up, so we were going straight from a ten-mile cross-country run to fight training. Alex informed me this morning’s run had been “easy.” Next week, I’d be expected to do the same route carrying a weighted backpack. The week after, I’d get a gun to lug as well. But for now, I dragged my heels into the gym at Riverley Hall and wished I had a time machine or even an invisibility cloak.
The gym was a cavernous space, a later addition in the same wing as the swimming pool. One end was filled with weights and cardio equipment, and at the other, mats had been laid from wall to wall. The whole room was lined with mirrors so I could see my fuck-ups from every possible angle.
“Today, we start to prepare for knife work, da?” Alex said in his thick Russian accent.
“You might as well stab me now and get it over with.”
He didn’t answer, just handed me a slim piece of polished wood. A fake knife. Oh, thank goodness. I might live to eat dessert this evening.
“Attack me.”
Dammit. We’d already played this game without a weapon, and guess who kept losing? First, I’d come at Alex, and he’d flick me away like a piece of lint. Then he’d explain in excruciating detail everything I’d done wrong and teach me how to do the move properly. It worked—I couldn’t deny it worked—but the beginning part where I got bruised to buggery stung like hell.
But what choice did I have?
I thought back to the lessons of the past few days. Alex had shown me how to block and feint, to use his own momentum against him and hit where it hurt. I went in low, keeping the “knife” back until I got close. At the last moment, I dodged, and…the asshole upended me. My breath rushed out in a whoosh, I heard material tear, and quick as a flash, he was on top of me. A Russian bear, but he moved like a cheetah.
Alex’s weight pressed into me, and I couldn’t kick him away because he’d forced his body between my legs. Then his hands wrapped around my neck.
“Cross your arms over mine,” he instructed. “Grip my wrists and pump down with your elbows to break the hold. Do it, Sky. Do it.”
But…but I couldn’t. My thoughts darkened, and his words faded along with the bright lights of the gym as my mind took me back to another time. A living hell. And the next words I heard weren’t Alex’s.
“Fight harder, Sky. I like that.”
I felt his hand over my mouth. Smelled the sickly aroma of alcopops as he exhaled, alcopops that I’d served him earlier. Hair tickled between my legs.
“Get off me!”
“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”
Was that Alex’s voice? Or Brock’s? I wasn’t sure anymore. My cheeks cooled as someone breathed over my tears. It was happening again, wasn’t it? Dammit, I’d worked so hard for so long to forget this.
Then the weight was gone, and I opened my eyes in time to see Alex flying through the air. And I mean flying. He hit the wall and sort of slid down it into a heap.
“Chto za khuynya?”
I didn’t speak Russian, but I could take a good guess: what the fuck?