Chapter 3 - The Burner Phone
I stared at the terrifying text message as a cold wave of dread washed over me.
I looked up and frantically scanned the small diner for anyone watching me.
A man in a dark trench coat was sitting two booths away, staring directly at me with a cruel smirk.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a suppressed handgun, keeping it hidden under the table.
I grabbed my hot coffee and hurled the scalding liquid directly into his face.
He screamed in agony, dropping the weapon as I scrambled out of the booth.
I ran out the front doors of the diner and blended into the dense crowd of holiday shoppers on the sidewalk.
I ducked into a cheap electronics store and bought a prepaid burner phone with cash.
I crushed my old cell phone under my boot and tossed it into a storm drain to stop them from tracking me.
I sat on a snowy park bench and opened the cedar box one more time.
Beneath the leather ledger, I noticed a false panel lined with faded green velvet.
I pressed my thumb against the edge, and the wooden panel popped open to reveal a single silver key.
A small, handwritten note from Grandpa Arthur was wrapped tightly around the key.
"If the wolves ever come for you, take this key to Silas Vance at the old shipyard."
I hailed a taxi and paid the driver extra to drop me off at the abandoned industrial docks on the south side.
The towering metal shipping containers looked like a rusted maze in the dying winter light.
I found the address listed on the note, an old warehouse secured with a heavy iron padlock.
I slid the silver key into the lock, and it turned with a satisfying click.
I pushed the heavy door open and stepped into the dark, cavernous space.
May you like
Suddenly, the cold barrel of a shotgun was pressed firmly against the back of my head.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't blow your head off," a deep voice growled from the shadows.
