Chapter 5 - The Bait and the Hook
The news that Daniel Whitaker had refused to press charges against his wife sent shockwaves through the Chicago legal community. The media, which had been salivating over the story of the "balcony beauty and the millionaire," was thrown into a frenzy of speculation.
Was it an accident after all?
Did the billionaire husband have something to hide?
Valerie Dubois-Crane walked out of the Cook County Jail at 8:00 on a rainy Thursday morning. She wore the same clothes she had been arrested in, her face pale and drawn, her eyes darting nervously around the crowd of reporters waiting outside the gates.
She expected to see her brother’s old sedan. She expected to see a sea of flashing cameras.
Instead, she saw a single black SUV idling at the curb.
The rear door was open.
Daniel was sitting inside, his hands folded over his umbrella, his face invisible behind the tinted glass.
Valerie hesitated, her breath catching in her throat. The rain was cold, soaking through her thin sweater, and she had no money, no phone, and no place to go. Every one of her accounts had been systematically wiped out by the protocol Daniel had initiated.
She walked slowly toward the vehicle, her feet heavy with a strange, magnetic dread. She climbed into the back seat, slamming the door behind her to shut out the shouting reporters.
The SUV immediately pulled away from the curb, merging into the heavy morning traffic.
"Daniel," Valerie whispered, her voice trembling as she looked at him. He didn't turn to look at her. He kept his eyes locked on the road ahead. "Why did you do this? Why did you drop the charges?"
"Because the police are too slow, Valerie," Daniel said, his voice like the rustle of dry leaves. "And their prison is too comfortable."
"What do you want from me?" she whimpered, pressing herself against the door, as far from him as the cabin would allow.
"I want Arthur," Daniel said. "And I want Victor Vance. I want the men who told you my daughter’s life was worth a million dollars."
"I don't know where they are!" she lied, her voice rising in panic. "Arthur is gone! He left the state!"
Daniel didn't argue. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a small black device, and tossed it into her lap. It was a burner phone.
"Arthur’s phone is currently being tracked by my security team," Daniel said. "But he’s not answering his usual numbers. He’s scared. He thinks you're going to turn him in. Call him on that phone. Tell him you have the money."
"What money?"
Daniel pointed to the leather briefcase sitting on the floor between them. "There is one million dollars in cash in that bag. It is clean, unmarked, and untraceable. It is exactly what your brother needs to buy his life back from Victor Vance."
Valerie stared at the briefcase, her fingers twitching with a sudden, desperate greed. "You're... you're giving me the money?"
"I am giving you a choice, Valerie," Daniel said, finally turning his head to look at her. The sheer, empty coldness in his eyes made her breath stop. "You can take that bag, go to your brother, and pay off his debt. Or I can open this door right now, throw you out into the street, and let Victor Vance’s people know that you have been cooperating with the police for the last three days."
Valerie’s jaw dropped. "I haven't said a word to them!"
"But they don't know that," Daniel said, a small, terrifying smile touching his lips. "And in their world, suspicion is just as good as proof. What do you think Victor Vance does to people who might have talked to the federal authorities?"
Valerie looked at the phone in her hand, then at the heavy leather briefcase. The trap was beautiful in its cruelty. There was no exit.
May you like
She tapped the screen of the phone, her fingers shaking so hard she could barely press the digits.
"Arthur?" she said when the call connected. "It’s me. I’m out. And I have the money. All of it."
