Chapter 3 - The Ghost of the Highway
Silas drove them to a safe house—a cramped, dusty apartment in Queens, far away from the glittering skyscrapers where Marcus ruled. The walls were covered in corkboards, interconnected with red string and photographs.
"Marcus didn't just bribe a judge for custody," Silas explained, pouring Elena a cup of black coffee. "He orchestrated the crash."
Elena dropped the mug. It shattered on the floor. "He... he tried to kill his own son?"
"No," Silas pointed to a diagram of the intersection. "The truck hit the driver's side. Your side. The reinforced steel cage of your SUV protected Leo in the back right. Marcus paid a man named Hector Diaz a quarter of a million dollars to T-bone your car. The goal was to eliminate you entirely, leaving him the grieving, wealthy widower with full control of your family's trust fund."
Elena stared at the photos of the mangled metal. Her husband had tried to murder her.
"Where is Hector Diaz?" Elena asked, her voice dropping an octave, completely stripped of fear.
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"He took the money and vanished to Mexico," Silas said. "But he left his burner phone behind in a locker at Penn Station. If we get that phone, we get the text messages between him and Marcus's fixer. It's the proof you need to get your son back and put Marcus in a federal penitentiary."
Elena looked at her bruised, shaking hands. She took a deep breath, steadying them. "Then we go hunting."
