Chapter 3 - The Safe Deposit Box
The midday sun blinded me as I walked out of the police precinct and into the stifling heat.
Evelyn walked briskly beside me, completely ignoring the questions I kept throwing at her.
"Where is Brian?" I demanded, scanning the busy street for my runaway ex-husband.
"Brian is not here, I only told them that to expedite your immediate release," Evelyn confessed without breaking her stride.
I stopped dead in my tracks, refusing to take another step toward her sleek black town car.
"Who actually hired you?" I asked, gripping the strap of my purse so tightly my knuckles turned white.
Evelyn sighed, looking around the crowded sidewalk before leaning in closely.
"Mrs. Whitaker hired me three weeks ago, with strict instructions to bail you out if anything ever happened to her," she revealed.
My mind raced, trying to comprehend how my elderly neighbor had predicted her own murder.
"She also instructed me to take you directly to the downtown bank," Evelyn added, opening the car door.
I hesitated for a moment, but the small silver key burning a hole in my pocket convinced me to get in.
The ride to the bank was completely silent, filled only with the hum of the luxury car's air conditioning.
When we arrived, Evelyn escorted me past the main teller line and straight down to the secure vault.
I handed the silver key to the vault manager, my hands shaking just as they had at the mailbox.
He returned a moment later with a long, heavy metal safe deposit box and left us alone in a private viewing room.
I popped the lid open, expecting to find more cash or a confession detailing who wanted her dead.
Instead, the box was entirely empty except for a single, crisp white envelope.
I tore it open, pulling out a meticulously drafted life insurance policy worth two million dollars.
The policy had been activated just one month ago, right around the time Brian completely vanished.
I scanned down the legal document to find the listed primary beneficiary.
It wasn't Mrs. Whitaker's family, and it wasn't the local charity she always supported.
The two million dollars was being left entirely to Brian, my deadbeat ex-husband.
Before I could even process the ultimate betrayal, my cell phone began to ring loudly in my purse.
May you like
I looked at the caller ID, my breath catching painfully in my throat.
It was Brian, calling from the dead number that hadn't worked in months.
