Chapter 3 - The Envelope in the Freezer
Nathan drove an old gray sedan instead of the black SUV Claire had noticed.
“The SUV isn’t yours?” she asked.
“No.”
“Then whose is it?”
“The shooter’s support team, probably.”
Claire turned toward him. “Probably?”
“I’ve been back in the city four days. I’m still learning who knows I survived.”
She stared through the rain-streaked window as Manhattan lights blurred across the river.
“Where have you been for six months?”
“Recovering. Hiding. Remembering.”
“That is not an answer.”
“It’s the one I have.”
He drove to a small townhouse in Cobble Hill that Claire had never seen.
Inside, the place was almost empty.
A mattress. Two chairs. A locked metal case. Maps taped to the wall.
Nathan opened the freezer.
Claire expected ice.
Instead, he pulled out a sealed envelope wrapped in plastic.
“Nicholas kept things cold when he was afraid someone would search the house,” Claire said slowly.
Nathan looked at her.
“Yes.”
Her throat tightened.
He handed her the envelope.
Inside was a flash drive and a handwritten note.
Claire recognized the handwriting immediately.
Her husband’s.
CLAIRE—IF YOU ARE READING THIS, I FAILED TO KEEP YOU OUT OF IT.
She dropped into a chair.
Nathan’s voice softened. “I wrote that two days before the crash.”
“Why?”
“Because I found out someone inside Moretti Holdings was laundering money through our charity division.”
Claire frowned. “Our foundation funds schools and hospitals.”
“On paper.”
He inserted the flash drive into a laptop.
A spreadsheet appeared. Shell companies. Offshore transfers. Political donations. Construction contracts.
Claire scanned the names.
Then she saw one she knew.
MARCUS MORETTI.
Nicholas’s older brother.
Her brother-in-law.
The man who had held her hand through the funeral.
The man currently running the company.
Claire stood so fast the chair scraped backward.
“No.”
Nathan pointed to three transfers totaling eighteen million dollars.
“All authorized with Marcus’s private signing key.”
Claire shook her head. “Marcus loved you.”
“He loved control.”
A loud knock hit the front door.
Claire jumped.
Nathan shut the laptop.
No second knock came.
Instead, a phone began ringing on the floor outside.
Nathan raised his gun and moved toward the door.
Claire whispered, “Don’t.”
He opened it two inches.
No one was there.
Only a cheap burner phone on the welcome mat.
Nathan picked it up.
May you like
The screen showed one text message.
WELCOME HOME, LITTLE BROTHER.
