Fuck. Fuck. The cops had just left after delivering the news, how did the press find out already? They were probably gathering out front of the property already.
We’re sorry to inform you . . .
What was she going to do? William was dead.
Suspected heart attack.
She buried her face in her hands. It could be a heart attack. Or had something else happened to him?
“Genevieve, hide this flash drive. If something happens to me, text this number. My reporter friend will know what to do with it.”
Was it really a coincidence that he’d said that to her only a few hours ago and now he was dead?
Grabbing her phone, she raced upstairs and opened her jewelry box. It had a secret compartment, which is where she’d stashed the flash drive.
Hidden with it was a piece of paper with a number on it. With hands that shook, she wrote out a text.
This is William’s wife. I have that information. Can we meet?
Her finger hovered over send. If she did this, if she met with this person then that was it. She couldn’t stay here. She’d need to leave. To run.
Like you haven’t thought about running often enough.
But at least this time, she’d have a chance. This time, her father would be too busy with his own demise to worry about her. Right?
She scrunched her eyes tight and took a deep breath. What was the alternative? Stay? What if it wasn’t a heart attack? What if he’d been killed? What if her father knew she’d helped him?
Her gut was telling her to run.
She pressed send.
William was the only one who’d ever dealt with his contact. Would he answer her? What if William had already passed on the information? She rubbed at her head. If he had then there was no need for her to do anything.
Shoot. She’d just have to wait for a reply from his contact. Her heart raced as she grabbed a backpack and hastily filled it with a change of clothes, a nightgown, toiletries, and a few sentimental items. Then she ran downstairs and put the flash drive into a small pocket in her handbag.
She thought about just taking the one bag, but she didn’t want to take everything out of her handbag and some of the stuff in there could come in handy.
Passport. She needed her passport.
She checked the cameras at the
front gate. Shit. Just as she’d thought, the press was already here. She chewed her lip. Last thing she wanted was for any of them to follow her.
Think, Vivi.
She had to leave her car here. She’d go out through the back and have a taxi pick her up a block or two away. After ordering a taxi, she pulled on a hoodie. Shifting back and forth on her feet, she stared at her phone wondering why William’s contact didn’t reply.
Maybe he won’t reply. Then what are you going to do?
Suddenly, her phone buzzed with a text. She nearly dropped it.
Thirty minutes. Basement level. Triton building.
She let out a sigh of relief. At least she wouldn’t have to wait long.
She could do this. She could survive.
She had to.