Chapter 3 - The Best Friend’s Secrets
Samantha’s apartment smelled like stale perfume and rushed packing. Drawers were yanked open, clothes were scattered across the floor, and her jewelry box was completely emptied. It looked exactly like the aftermath of a woman packing for a sudden, permanent vacation.
I locked the door behind me and put on a pair of latex cleaning gloves I found under her sink. I wasn't entirely sure what I was looking for, but I knew Samantha. She was meticulous, paranoid, and obsessed with control. She wouldn't have trusted Richard entirely. There had to be an insurance policy.
I tore the apartment apart. I checked the toilet tank, the air vents, and behind the artwork. Nothing.
I stood in the center of her bedroom, closing my eyes and breathing in. Think. Where does a paranoid accountant hide her secrets?
My eyes landed on her heavy oak vanity. I remembered a drunken conversation we had years ago where she joked about the antique desk having a false bottom. I dropped to my knees and felt underneath the center drawer. My fingers grazed a small, metal latch.
I pulled it. A thin panel dropped open, dropping a velvet pouch into my waiting hand.
Inside was a prepaid burner phone and a tiny, encrypted USB drive.
I powered up the phone. There were no contacts, just a string of text messages to an unsaved, international number. I scrolled through the logs. The messages weren't romantic. They were frantic.
Samantha: "The audit is happening next week. We have to move the timeline up." Unknown Number (Richard): "I have the Cayman docs. Catherine signed the mortgage papers yesterday; I swapped the signature pages. We are clear." Samantha: "If this blows up, Volkov is going to kill us both. Get the flights to Nassau."
Volkov.
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The name sent a chill down my spine. Richard didn't just steal from a faceless corporation. He had been laundering money for a Russian syndicate through his firm, and he had stolen their money to fund his escape.
My husband wasn't just running from the FBI. He was running from the mob. And he had painted a target directly on my back.
