Chapter 5 - The First Warning
Bradley dropped the note as if it had burned his fingers.
On the surveillance monitor in Winston’s office, Brooklyn watched her husband stumble backward.
He knocked his glass of wine off the counter, shattering it across the hardwood floor.
Marlene rushed into the kitchen, annoyed by the noise.
“What is wrong with you?” Marlene snapped.
Bradley could barely speak.
He pointed a shaking finger at the cherry pie and the handwritten note.
Marlene picked up the card, her eyes narrowing as she read the words.
“Who sent this?” she demanded.
“Look at the handwriting, Mom,” Bradley choked out.
“It’s the exact way she loops her letters. Nobody else writes like that.”
Marlene slapped the note down on the counter.
“Don’t be an idiot,” she hissed.
“Brooklyn is rotting in a morgue drawer downtown. Someone is playing a sick joke.”
Corey walked into the room, assessing the panic.
“What’s the problem?” Corey asked.
“Someone knows,” Bradley panicked, grabbing his brother’s shirt.
“Someone knows she wasn’t pregnant, and they know we pushed her.”
Brooklyn watched the feed, a cold smile touching her lips.
“They are turning on each other already,” she noted.
Winston leaned against the desk, watching her with genuine admiration.
“Fear is a powerful solvent,” Winston agreed.
“It dissolves loyalty incredibly fast.”
On the screen, Corey shoved Bradley away and pulled out his cell phone.
“I’m calling the insurance adjuster,” Corey said.
“We need to expedite the wire transfer tonight before whoever sent this tries to blackmail us.”
Corey dialed the number and put the phone on speaker.
In Winston’s office, a burner phone resting on the desk suddenly began to ring.
Brooklyn stared at the ringing phone, then looked up at Winston in shock.
Winston calmly picked up the device and cleared his throat.
“National Fidelity Insurance, this is Agent Miller,” Winston answered, his voice perfectly professional.
Corey’s voice came through the speaker.
“Miller, this is Corey Whitfield. We need that five hundred thousand pushed through tonight.”
Winston typed loudly on a keyboard to simulate an office environment.
“I understand your urgency, Mr. Whitfield, but there is a slight complication,” Winston lied.
“What complication?” Corey demanded.
“The coroner’s report on your sister-in-law just arrived,” Winston said smoothly.
“The autopsy indicates the cause of death was not drowning.”
The Whitfield kitchen went completely, horrifyingly silent.
“What do you mean?” Corey asked, his voice trembling for the first time.
“The report states the victim suffered a fatal blunt force trauma to the back of the skull before entering the water,” Winston delivered the lie flawlessly.
“This is now an active homicide investigation, and all payouts are frozen indefinitely.”
Winston hung up the phone.
On the monitor, Bradley sank to the kitchen floor, clutching his chest in a full panic attack.
Brooklyn let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.
“You just trapped them in their own lie,” she said.
Winston tossed the burner phone onto the desk.
“They think they are being hunted by the police now,” he said.
“But they are actually being hunted by us.”
Elias suddenly swore loudly from his computer station.
“Winston, we have a massive problem,” Elias interrupted.
“What is it?” Winston asked, his demeanor instantly shifting to combat mode.
Elias pointed at a secondary monitor tracking Corey’s phone signals.
“Corey didn't just call the fake insurance number,” Elias said.
“He just sent an encrypted text message to a burner phone located three blocks from this safehouse.”
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Winston’s jaw tightened dangerously.
“Corey is communicating with someone in my organization,” Winston realized.
