The back room of Chen's Sweets was small and cluttered.
A desk covered in papers. A filing cabinet with a broken lock. A laptop that looked ten years old. The walls were decorated with photographs—Sarah with Richard, Sarah with her parents, Sarah at her college graduation. A family frozen in time.
Sarah Chen sat on a stool, her arms crossed. She hadn't offered Victoria a seat. She hadn't offered her anything.
"You said Richard sent you," Sarah said. "Richard is dead."
"He sent you a message. Before he died." Victoria pulled out her phone and played the video—the one from the storage unit, where Richard had recorded his confession.
Sarah watched in silence. Her face didn't change, but her hands tightened on her arms.
When the video ended, she stood up. She walked to the window and stared out at the street.
"He was so scared," Sarah said quietly. "The last time I talked to him, he was scared. He said he'd made a mistake. He said he'd trusted the wrong people."
"Webb."
"Webb. And Vinson. And others." She turned to face Victoria. "I told him to run. I told him to come to Chicago, to hide, to start over. He said he couldn't. He said Webb would find him. He said Webb would find me."
"Webb found him anyway."
"Yes." Sarah's voice cracked. "He did."
---
Victoria waited.
Sarah walked back to the desk and sat down. She opened a drawer and pulled out a small digital recorder.
"This is what you came for," she said. "The recording. Webb admitting he ordered Richard's death."
"How did you get it?"
"Richard gave it to me. A week before he died. He said if anything happened to him, I should go to the police. But I didn't. Because the police are on Webb's payroll."
"So you hid."
"I hid. For three years. I changed my name. I opened this bakery. I stopped talking to everyone I used to know." She set the recorder on the desk. "And I waited for someone to come."
"Now someone is here."
"Now someone is here." Sarah looked at Victoria. "But how do I know I can trust you?"
"You don't. But I'm the only person who's come."
Sarah was quiet for a long moment. Then she pushed the recorder across the desk.
"Take it. Do whatever you need to do. But I'm not leaving Chicago. This is my home now."
Victoria picked up the recorder. It was small, lightweight, ordinary. But inside was the evidence that could destroy Marcus Webb.
"Thank you," Victoria said.
"Don't thank me. Just make sure he pays."
---
Victoria left the bakery and walked to the end of the block.
She pulled out her phone and dialed Nathaniel.
"I have it," she said.
"The recording?"
"Yes. Sarah gave it to me."
"Did she say anything else?"
"She said Webb has people in Chicago."
Nathaniel was quiet for a moment. "Then get out of there. Now."
"I'm on my way back. But I need to copy the recording first. Somewhere safe."
"The farmhouse is compromised. Vinson knows about it."
"Then where?"
A pause. "My father's house. He has a safe room. No one knows about it."
"I'll be there in eight hours."
"Be careful, Victoria."
"I will."
She hung up and walked toward the train station.
---
She never made it.
Two blocks from the bakery, a black sedan pulled up beside her. The door opened. A man she didn't recognize stepped out.
"Victoria Hart," he said. "Get in the car."
"No."
"It wasn't a request."
The man reached for her arm. Victoria stepped back, but he was faster. He grabbed her wrist and twisted.
She tried to scream, but his hand covered her mouth.
"Don't make this harder than it has to be," he said. "Webb just wants to talk."
She bit his hand.
He swore and let go. Victoria ran.
She ducked into an alley, then another, her heart pounding. The man's footsteps followed her, steady, unhurried. He knew she couldn't outrun him.
She turned a corner and nearly ran into a wall.
Dead end.
The man appeared at the mouth of the alley. He was smiling.
"Nowhere to run," he said.
Victoria reached into her pocket. Not for the recorder—for the pepper spray.
She sprayed him in the face.
He screamed, clawing at his eyes. Victoria ran past him, back toward the bakery, back toward the street.
She didn't look back.
---
Sarah was locking the front door when Victoria burst through.
"They found me," Victoria gasped. "Webb's people. They're here."
Sarah's face went white. She grabbed Victoria's arm and pulled her inside, locking the door behind her.
"The back," Sarah said. "There's a basement. We can hide."
"No. We need to leave. Now."
"We can't. They'll be watching the station."
"Then we drive."
Sarah hesitated. Then she nodded. She grabbed her keys, her phone, and a small bag she kept by the door.
"Follow me," she said.
They ran out the back door, into an alley, then into a parking lot. Sarah's car was an old Honda, dented, ordinary. They got in and drove.
"Where to?" Sarah asked.
"Anywhere but here."
---
They drove west, out of Evanston, away from the city.
Victoria watched the mirrors. No headlights. No black sedans.
"They're not following," she said.
"Yet."
Sarah drove for an hour, then pulled into a rest stop. She killed the engine and turned to Victoria.
"Who are you?" Sarah asked. "Really."
Victoria told her. About the bankruptcy. About her father. About Nathaniel. About the report he'd signed ten years ago. About the files, the list, the recordings.
Sarah listened without interrupting.
When Victoria finished, Sarah was quiet for a long moment.
"You've been through hell," Sarah said.
"So have you."
"Yes. But I chose to hide. You chose to fight."
"I didn't have a choice."
"There's always a choice." Sarah started the engine. "I'm coming with you. To D.C. To testify. To face Webb."
"You don't have to."
"I know. But Richard would have wanted me to."
---
They drove through the night.
Victoria called Nathaniel. Told him about the attack. About Sarah. About the recording.
"Webb knows," Nathaniel said. "He knows you have it."
"Then we need to move faster."
"I'll have my father make calls. Federal protection. A safe house."
"Will it be enough?"
"It has to be."
Victoria looked out the window. The highway was dark, empty, endless.
"I'll see you soon," she said.
"Soon."
She hung up and closed her eyes.
Sleep didn't come.