Chapter 7 - The Dead Drop
The morning routine was a grotesque repetition of the day before.
The shower running,
the false affection,
the careful administration of the substituted calcium pills.
Nicholas kissed my forehead,
his eyes scanning my face for the familiar, drug-induced dullness,
and satisfied with his inspection,
he left for the office.
The moment the front door closed,
the adrenaline hit my system like a physical blow.
I had less than four hours to execute my plan and get to the garment district.
I strapped Julian into his carrier against my chest,
his warm weight grounding me as I moved quickly through the house.
I needed money,
untraceable cash,
and I knew exactly where to find it.
Nicholas kept an emergency stash in his office safe,
the same safe I had breached the day before.
I didn't need the documents today;
I just needed the capital to secure Marcus Vance.
I repeated the lock-picking process,
my hands steadier this time,
driven by a cold, calculating purpose.
The heavy door swung open,
and I bypassed the manila envelope,
reaching instead for the thick stacks of hundred-dollar bills banded together in the corner.
I grabbed three stacks—thirty thousand dollars—shoving them into the bottom of a large, innocuous diaper bag.
I locked the safe,
reset the bookshelf,
and relocked the office door,
leaving no trace of my intrusion.
I dressed carefully,
opting for loose, unremarkable clothing,
pulling my hair back into a messy bun,
and hiding my face behind oversized sunglasses.
I ordered a ride-share using a prepaid gift card I had bought months ago for a friend's baby shower but never gifted.
I instructed the driver to drop me off three blocks away from The Rusty Mug.
The garment district was loud,
crowded,
and chaotic,
a stark contrast to the sterile, quiet perfection of my suburban neighborhood.
I navigated the busy sidewalks,
keeping my head down,
my heart pounding in time with the rhythmic thumping of the city.
The Rusty Mug was a narrow, dimly lit establishment,
smelling strongly of roasted beans and old wood.
I walked to the counter,
my voice steady despite the tremor in my hands.
"A large black coffee, please,"
I told the barista,
a bored-looking teenager with green hair.
"Name?"
he grunted,
grabbing a paper cup.
"Evelyn,"
I replied smoothly.
I paid with a ten-dollar bill,
leaving the change,
and moved to a small, isolated table in the back corner.
I set the heavy diaper bag on the empty chair beside me,
just as Marcus had instructed,
and sat down,
cradling Julian against my chest.
I sipped the bitter coffee,
my eyes constantly scanning the room,
looking for any sign of Nicholas’s men,
or for the private investigator himself.
Ten minutes passed.
Then twenty.
Anxiety gnawed at my stomach.
Had Marcus changed his mind?
Had he decided the risk was too great?
Suddenly,
a man in a worn leather jacket brushed past my table,
his movements swift and purposeful.
He didn't look at me,
didn't acknowledge my presence,
but in the blink of an eye,
he swapped the large diaper bag on the chair for an identical one he had been carrying over his shoulder.
The exchange was so flawless,
so incredibly smooth,
that I almost didn't realize it had happened.
The man kept walking,
disappearing out the back door into the alleyway.
I stared at the new bag sitting on the chair,
my pulse racing.
I carefully reached over,
unzipping the main compartment just enough to peek inside.
Nestled between a pack of generic diapers and a spare onesie,
was a sleek, black, untraceable smartphone,
and a small, folded piece of paper.
I pulled the paper out,
my fingers trembling as I unfolded it beneath the table.
"Call me from this phone,"
the note read in a sharp, angled script.
"Do not bring it back to your house. Leave it in the locker at the bus terminal on 4th Street. Key is in the bag."
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.
The money was gone,
and in its place,
I had a secure line of communication.
Marcus Vance was in.
I quickly finished my coffee,
gathered my things,
and walked out of the shop,
feeling the first real surge of power I had experienced in half a year.
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Nicholas thought he was playing a solitary game of chess,
but he was about to discover that I had flipped the entire board.
