Chapter 14 - The Pier
The waterfront smelled of diesel, salt, and wet concrete. At ten that evening Mara walked toward Warehouse C, a plain black clutch in one hand. Under her coat she wore a recording device arranged through Rebecca and investigators. She had refused a weapon. The safest plan depended on witnesses, surveillance, and a team close enough to intervene.
Victor waited under a floodlight beside a stack of shipping crates. The mark on his cheek had turned purple. His suit was immaculate.
“Look what you did to yourself,” he said, eyeing Mara's bruises.
“You did this.”
“You came to my party with accusations.”
“You grabbed me because I wouldn't hand over my phone.”
“And you made a spectacle.”
“Where's Evan?”
Victor extended a palm. “The card first.”
Mara held up a decoy drive. “I want proof he's alive.”
Victor gestured toward the warehouse. A side door opened. Evan stood inside wearing a gray sweatshirt. He was thinner than she remembered and leaned against the doorframe as if standing hurt, but it was him.
Mara stepped forward. “Ev!”
“Don't,” Evan said sharply.
Victor's smile disappeared. “You don't get to make rules.”
Evan stared at his sister. “He wants the originals because the recordings include his voice. Give him copies, and he'll keep coming.”
Victor seized Evan by the collar. “I told you not to speak.”
The radio in Mara's coat crackled almost silently. She knew the team could hear. She knew a rescue depended on Victor choosing his next move.
“Let him go,” she said. “You can tell them I acted alone. You can still say I made this up.”
Victor's eyes narrowed. “Like your mother tried?”
For a heartbeat Mara saw the truth behind his arrogance: a man who had practiced rewriting other people's stories for decades.
A car door slammed across the pier. Victor looked away.
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Captain Price emerged from the shadows with Rosie walking in front of him, her wrists bound.
Victor hissed, “You were supposed to leave her out of this.”
