Chapter 3 - The Shadows of Forsyth StreetClara looked up, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. “It’s in his private office uptown. In a locked filing cabinet he thinks I don't know the combination to.”
“Then we go get it,” I said without hesitation.
She stared at me, astonished. “Jake, no. You’re a delivery driver. You have a life, a job—you shouldn't get dragged into my disaster.”
“Clara,” I said, stepping closer until I could see the golden specks in her tear-filled eyes. “You’ve left notes in my tip envelopes for three years telling me I’m the most reliable person in your life. Do you think I’m going to walk out that door when you actually need me?”
A silence fell over the room, heavy and charged. The unspoken connection we had carefully ignored for thirty-six months suddenly surged to the surface.
Ten minutes later, we were in my truck, driving through the rain-slicked streets of the city. Clara sat in the passenger seat, holding her hands tightly in her lap.
“Daniel wasn't always like this,” she murmured, looking out the window at the blurred city lights. “When we met four years ago, he was charming and attentive. But control turned into obsession. When I broke things off eighteen months ago, he refused to let go. He kept a key to the apartment building. He left quiet threats.”
“Why didn't you call the police?” I asked, keeping my hands steady on the steering wheel.
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“Because he’s a senior partner at Dodd & Associates,” she replied bitterly. “He knows how to bend the law until it breaks anyone who fights him.”
I gripped the wheel tighter. “He hasn't met me yet.”
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