Chapter 3 - The Frame Job
The burner phone only had one contact saved. I pressed dial, and a gruff voice answered on the second ring.
“Arthur?” the man asked.
“Arthur is dead,” I choked out. “I’m Clara. His granddaughter.”
There was a heavy pause. “Jesus. He actually found you. Where are you?”
Before I could answer, a small, dusty television in the corner of the storage unit caught my eye. The local news was playing on mute. My own face, a picture taken from my hospital ID badge, flashed across the screen. I lunged for the remote and turned up the volume.
“...breaking news out of the county hospice center. Authorities are searching for thirty-two-year-old Clara Sterling, a registered nurse. She is the prime suspect in the murder of eighty-five-year-old Arthur Sterling, whom she married mere days before his death. Police Chief Elias Vance stated that lethal doses of morphine were found in the victim's IV line, and an arrest warrant for capital murder has been issued.”
They were framing me. They had injected Arthur’s body post-mortem to make it look like a black-widow killing. The perfect excuse to hunt me down with the full force of the law.
“Clara, are you still there?” Marcus asked through the phone.
May you like
“They just put my face on the news,” I whispered, panic finally taking hold. “They’re saying I killed him.”
“Listen to me very carefully,” Marcus said, his tone shifting into something hard and professional. “Do not go to the police. Do not go home. Grab the drive, wipe the unit down, and meet me at the abandoned shipyard on Pier 9. If Vance is involved, we have less than a few hours before he triangulates that burner phone.”
