Chapter 2 - The Stolen Identity
I dropped the burner phone onto the hospital bed as if it were on fire.
Panic gripped my chest tightly as I zipped the green backpack closed.
I knew I could not wait around to see who was waiting outside the building.
I threw the heavy straps over my shoulders and rushed out into the brightly lit corridor.
Nurses were busy tending to other patients and did not notice my desperate escape.
I kept my head down and walked as fast as I possibly could without running.
I ran down the emergency stairwell to avoid the crowded security cameras in the elevators.
The cold evening air hit my face as I burst through the exit doors into the parking garage.
I unlocked my old sedan and threw the backpack onto the passenger seat.
My hands shook violently as I gripped the steering wheel and sped out into the city streets.
I drove erratically taking random turns to make sure no one was following me in the dark.
The streetlights flashed across my windshield in a blur of yellow and orange.
I finally reached my small apartment building on the rougher side of town.
I climbed the three flights of stairs taking two steps at a time.
I locked the deadbolt behind me and leaned heavily against my front door.
The silence of my apartment offered a brief and deceptive moment of comfort.
I pulled the faded Polaroid photograph from my pocket and stared at my mother's face.
Her smile seemed to hold a thousand secrets she had never shared with me.
I turned the picture over and noticed faint handwriting on the back.
The faded ink read that the truth was hidden in the ledger.
I reached into the green backpack to search for this mysterious ledger.
My fingers brushed against a thick leather-bound notebook hidden in a side pocket.
The leather was worn and felt incredibly old to the touch.
Before I could pull it out my apartment intercom buzzed loudly.
The sudden piercing noise made me jump and drop the heavy bag onto the floor.
I walked slowly toward the intercom and pressed the speaker button.
The voice on the other end belonged to Arthur Vance.
He apologized for the late intrusion and said he forgot to give me an important document.
I leaned closer to the speaker and asked him how he knew my home address.
Arthur went completely silent for several agonizing seconds.
Then I heard a loud metallic crash coming from my own bedroom.
Arthur was not downstairs at the front door like he claimed.
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He had hacked the intercom system from inside my apartment to distract me.
The old man walked out of my bedroom holding a massive hunting knife.
