“I don’t understand.”
Looking around again, I notice the waitress must have gone inside. I don’t see anyone. The alley is empty, and Deanna is poking me with a gun. Fear gets the better of me, my fight-or-flight response frozen, as I try to understand what’s happening and what I can do next. One bullet from this proximity would kill me. Worse, even, it would kill my unborn child.
“You and I, Raina, are about to have a very different conversation,” Deanna says and grabs the back of the neck. “Move!”
“Where?”
She yanks me away from the sidewalk and pushes me through the gangway. In the fleeting panic, I drop the fruit basket and let her guide me into the side street where a yellow Beetle awaits.
“Get in,” she says.
“Please, don’t hurt me,” I tell Deanna. “We can work this out.”
“There’s nothing left to work out between us, you fat, uppity bitch. We’re doing this my way. And it starts with you getting in the fucking car!”
I’m startled and terrified, yet I have no choice but to comply. With a trembling hand, I reach for the passenger door.
“You’re driving, Raina, do I look stupid to you?”
I must do everything in my power to survive whatever comes next.
“Okay, Deanna, I’ll drive,” I calmly reply and move around to the driver’s side of the car. She fumbles through her jacket pocket and tosses the keys to me.
I catch them with shaky fingers and fail to unlock the door as quickly as she’d like.
“MOVE!” she snaps.
Trembling like a leaf, I manage to get behind the wheel.
She slides into the passenger seat with her gun still very much pointed at me. “Now drive,” Deanna says.
“Drive where?”
“Wherever I fucking tell you.”
28
ALEX
Istare at the computer screen for what feels like an eternity.
My lips are parted and frozen as I read the ransom request over and over again. My pulse quickens as each word sinks in deeper, bringing reality down on me with a loud and crumbling sound, like bricks collapsing on top of me.
“Alex, what is it?” Max’s voice pierces through the disbelief.
Our office has never felt colder and darker than in this moment despite the sun pouring through the windows. Vincent slowly sits up in his chair, a troubled look on his face.
“Alex?” he asks.
Finally, I manage to look into his eyes, then Max’s.
“There’s another ransom demand,” I tell them.
Like shadows, they both leave their chairs from across theroom and flank me behind my desk, their eyes glued to my computer screen.
“Pay five million dollars in Bitcoin to this account,” the email says, complete with an embedded link, “or she pays with her life.”
The way Max reads it adds even more gravity to the meaning.
