“Why She Knew”

Chapter 3

Eleanor didn't ask questions.

She shoved Leo into the backseat of the SUV and threw herself in after him just as Vance recovered and began firing.

Bullets pinged violently against the reinforced armor of the vehicle.

The driver—a man Eleanor didn't recognize—slammed the SUV into reverse, spinning the tires on the slick mortuary floor before tearing out into the rain-soaked alley.

Eleanor clutched her bleeding shoulder, breathing heavily. She looked at the woman in the passenger seat.

The woman turned around. Her eyes were sharp, cold, and assessing.

"You're bleeding," she stated bluntly.

"You're supposed to be dead," Eleanor fired back. "Leo told me his mother died last winter."

The little boy sat quietly in the corner, holding his knees. "She did," he whispered.

The woman sighed, running a hand through her wet hair. "My name is Sarah. I’m her twin sister. Leo's aunt."

Eleanor stared at her. The resemblance was uncanny, almost ghostly.

"My sister died of pneumonia," Sarah explained bitterly. "Because Arthur’s men made sure no hospital in the state would treat her without insurance. When she died, I took Leo. We’ve been running ever since."

"Thomas found you," Eleanor realized.

"He found us three weeks ago," Sarah nodded. "He knew Arthur was going to kill him. He gave us this car, the safe house location, and told Leo to find you at the funeral. He said you were the only one in the family who still had a soul."

Eleanor looked down at her bloodstained hands. A soul. She wasn't sure she had one left after decades of complicity.

"Where are we going?" Eleanor asked the silent driver.

"To the only place Arthur doesn't control," Sarah said. "The old shipping docks."

Eleanor frowned. "The docks? Thomas sold those years ago."

"No, he didn't," Sarah pulled a flashlight from the glove compartment. "He just made Arthur think he sold them."

She tossed the flashlight to Eleanor.

"Look inside the watch, Eleanor. Right now. Before we get there."

Eleanor pulled the heavy gold watch from Leo's trembling hands. She found the small seam near the winding crown. She pressed her thumbnail into it and twisted.

The back plate popped open.

Inside wasn't a microchip or a key.

It was a severed human finger.

Eleanor screamed and dropped the watch.

The gold casing clattered against the floor mats. The severed finger rolled out, pale and preserved in some kind of chemical resin. It bore a thick, distinct silver ring.

Sarah didn't flinch. She just stared at it.

"Whose is that?!" Eleanor panicked, pressing herself against the car door.

"I don't know," Sarah said grimly. "Thomas said it was his insurance policy. He said if you saw the ring, you would understand."

Eleanor forced herself to look down.

Her breath hitched in her throat.

She knew the ring. Heavy silver, engraved with a serpent eating its own tail.

It belonged to Julian Vance. Mr. Vance’s older brother.

Julian had disappeared fifteen years ago. The family rumor was that he had stolen from the cartel and fled the country. Arthur had used Julian's disappearance to blackmail Mr. Vance into lifelong servitude.

"Arthur killed Julian," Eleanor whispered, the horrific truth dawning on her. "He killed Julian, and Thomas somehow found the body. Thomas kept the finger to prove it."

"Proof of murder," the driver finally spoke, his voice gravelly. "Enough to send Arthur and his entire empire to prison."

"But why give it to a child?" Eleanor asked, looking at Leo, who was staring out the rain-streaked window, completely detached from the horror.

"Because Arthur would never search a street rat at a funeral," Sarah said.

The SUV jerked violently as they swerved off the main road, entering the desolate, fog-covered territory of the abandoned shipping docks. Rusting cargo containers loomed like steel gravestones in the dark.

The driver cut the headlights, navigating strictly by moonlight.

He pulled the car deep into a cavernous warehouse and killed the engine.

"We wait here until the extraction boat arrives at midnight," Sarah said, loading a magazine into a handgun.

Eleanor wrapped her bleeding shoulder tightly with a piece of her dress. She looked at the driver for the first time.

He turned around.

He had a long, jagged scar across his neck.

And on his left hand, he was missing his index finger.