Chapter 2 - The Dirty Detective
I held my breath, pressing my back flat against the cold bedroom wall.
The shadow in the doorway stepped into the room, sweeping the knife through the air.
He was a massive man wearing a dark ski mask and heavy combat boots.
He kicked Troy's desk chair aside and began frantically tearing the mattress off the bed.
He muttered under his breath about finding the final payment before the boss lost his patience.
I realized with absolute terror that he was looking for the hidden compartment I had just opened.
When he turned his back to rip the closet doors open, I knew I had to run.
I bolted out of the bedroom, my footsteps echoing loudly against the hardwood floor.
The intruder shouted in surprise and lunged toward the hallway.
I scrambled through the front door, slamming it shut behind me just as his knife embedded itself into the wood.
I sprinted down the apartment stairs, threw myself into my car, and sped away with my tires screeching.
My hands shook so violently that I could barely grip the steering wheel.
I drove straight to the local police precinct, desperate for safety and answers.
I asked for Detective Miller, an old family friend who had known Troy since high school.
Miller welcomed me into his private office, offering me a cup of coffee and a sympathetic smile.
I told him about the break-in and placed Troy's black ledger onto his desk.
Miller opened the book, scanning the columns of massive cash withdrawals and coded locations.
I expected him to look confused, but instead, his face drained of all color.
He stood up slowly, walked over to his office door, and locked the deadbolt.
He reached over and pulled the thick blinds closed, plunging the room into shadows.
When he turned back around, his friendly smile was completely gone.
Miller unholstered his service weapon and pointed it directly at my chest.
He demanded to know where Troy had hidden the rest of the money.
I realized then that the police were not going to protect me.
They were part of the very nightmare Troy had been fighting alone.
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I slowly reached into my purse, pretending to look for the rest of the documents.
Instead, my fingers wrapped around a heavy can of pepper spray.
