Chapter 2 - The Briefcase in the Hallway
I hesitated, looking back at my dented sedan, but one glance at my broken shoe told me I wasn't running anywhere tonight.
Victor held the rear door open for me, his expression completely unreadable as I slid into the leather interior.
The heat inside the vehicle hit my shivering body like a warm blanket, and the driver immediately pulled away from the curb.
"Where are we going?" I asked, watching the townhouse shrink into the distance through the rain-streaked rear window.
"My private office on Michigan Avenue," Victor answered, settling into the opposite seat and crossing one long leg over the other.
"We have three hours before Richard realizes the security codes on his downtown firm have been completely wiped."
My stomach dropped as his words sank in.
"Richard is an estate planning attorney," I stammered, trying to make sense of the nightmare unfolding around me.
"What could he possibly have that involves you?"
Victor opened a thin black leather folder resting on the console between us.
He flipped through several surveillance photographs, turning them toward me under the interior reading light.
There was Richard, sitting in a high-end French restaurant on the Gold Coast, holding hands with the woman in red silk.
In another, he was leaving a luxury boutique carrying shopping bags that had never once entered our modest split-level suburban home.
"Her name is Elena," Victor explained, his voice devoid of any warmth or jealousy, sounding more like an auditor reviewing bad debts.
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"We married four years ago to consolidate several shipping terminals along Lake Michigan."
"Your husband wasn't just sleeping with her, Martha. He was helping her funnel twelve million dollars out of my corporate logistics trusts."
