Page 131 of Beneath Her Skin

Detective Wallace and the LAPD were never able to locate the Davis brothers after ruling them as suspects, after their crime lab dug into Amara’s desk computer. They ambushed her at her desk, forcing their way into her computer so they could transfer Hope Center’s finances into an offshore account they owned. Before the LAPD could trace the account, it was gone. They killed her for fifteen million dollars.

The loss was the demise of the hospital. For four months after her murder, we had to work with neighboring hospitalsand children’s hospitals to have all our patients transferred to continue their care elsewhere. In this process, we lost seventeen patients; they died once they got situated in their new locations.

It was too much for me to bear.

Hope Center has since been abandoned, the city unable to decide what to do with the property.

Which was perfect for me; I had plans.

It took me two days after Amara’s murder to muster up the courage to plug the USB drive for her hidden office camera into my laptop and watch what happened… watch what they did to her… What Dom, Erik, Aaron, and Sebastian did to her… Even though Emerson wasn’t in the room, he was just as guilty and would pay… They would all pay.

Gripping the steering wheel, my rage consumed me as I remembered every detail of what they did to her. I had the video from Amara’s secret camera saved on my phone, and I quickly found it, pressing play.

The love of my life sat at her desk, typing away on the keyboard of her computer, when a stern knock sounded on the other side of her office door.

“Open!” she called out in her familiar sing-song voice.

Dom and Erik Davis entered her office in their expensive suits and million-dollar smiles. Dom looked like a stereotypical meathead. All steroid muscle, bald, and had a permanent resting bitch face. Erik, on the other hand, was athletic, but not as big as Dom. He had perfectly styled black hair, and brown eyes, and an energy about him that was dominant; you knew he was the boss.

“Dom, Erik, a pleasure,” Amara greeted, walking around her desk to shake their hands. “Please have a seat; let’s discuss the plans for the new wing.” Amara walked back around to her side of the desk, scooting her chair in, and readying her pen on her notepad.

Dom and Erik unbuttoned their blazers before sitting down. Erik crossed an ankle over his knee, while Dom sat, tapping an impatient finger on the armrest of Amara’s chair.

“Yes, the plans,” Erik said with a sinister chuckle. “Let’s discuss our ‘plans,’ shall we?”

He looked over at Dom and gave him a nod. The moment Erik’s chin dipped, Dom was on his feet, locking the door.

“Here’s the plan, Amara. You are going to log into Hope Center’s bank account and transfer every cent here.” He slid a paper across Amara’s desk with their offshore banking information.

“What? This isn’t funny,” Amara said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“What’s funny is you thinking I’m joking,” Erik said, waving a finger over his shoulder, motioning to Dom.

In an instant, Dom was behind Amara, and had her hair wrapped around his fist. He slammed her head face down onto her desk twice before yanking her hair, raising her head, and forcing her to look at Erik. She whimpered in pain, a trail of blood leaking from her nose.

“N-no…” Amara stammered, standing her ground.

Erik stood from his chair, removing his blazer, and draping it neatly around the back of the chair he was sitting in. Looking up towards Dom, he nodded as he began rolling his sleeves up to his elbows.

“Wrong choice, my dear. Dom?” Erik said, his eyes still focused on his sleeves.

Releasing her hair, Dom reached behind him, pulling a 1911 from his waistband. Amara brought both hands to her face, covering her nose, completely oblivious to what Dom was doing. Holding his gun in one hand, he reached into his pants pocket with the other, pulling out a suppressor, and screwed it onto the barrel of the gun.

His movement in Amara’s periphery forced her to look in his direction, and right down the barrel of his gun.

“I suggest you log in now, or else Dom here will put a hole in that pretty little head of yours,” Erik said, now approaching the desk.

Erik pushed the keyboard closer to Amara, and with tears in her eyes, she turned her head to face him, bravely shoving it right back at him.

“No.”

Nodding at Dom again, Erik leaned his hands on the desk as Dom shot Amara on the outside of her thigh, then pressed the gun into her temple.

I paused the video. Hearing Amara cry out in pain made me grip the steering wheel tighter until my knuckles turned white. But I had to keep watching; I had to remember why I’m here… Feed my rage that I’ve been building for two years.

Taking a deep breath, the inferno of anger still burning inside me, but manageable for now, I pressed play and focused on the screen of my phone again.

“Log in, or else next time, Dom won’t miss.”

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