Page 5 of Jax
His eyes narrowed, not in offense, but in assessment. “No. I think you know you’re in a lot of danger.”
The words hit harder than they should have. Maybe because they were true. Maybe because he said them like they were self-evident. I turned toward him, studying the line of his jaw. “I didn’t know who they were. I didn’t recognize the name on the form. I have no idea why they want my art studio. It’s just a building in the Northeast Industrial District, a few blocks from my house, and a small one at that. Stinks to high heaven sometimes, but you can’t beat the rent.”
I was rambling. Why was I talking about the fuckingsmell, of all things? He didn’t speak. Just watched. Listening not to what I said, but to how I said it. Watching for the flinch.
“But you were going to give it to them anyway,” he said at last. Not a judgment. Just a fact.
My throat tightened. “Because they took me, okay? Threatened me.”
He stiffened. Barely. A shift in his jaw. The stilling of his hand on the wheel.
“They took me,” I repeated, my voice thinner now. The words came spilling out like a dam had burst inside me. I couldn’t hold them back.Someonehad to know the truth. “I don’t know how long I was gone—two nights, maybe three. I woke up zip-tied to a chair in a basement or warehouse or something. Blindfolded. Gagged. They… they hit me, some. Roughed me up, I guess you could say.”
I took a deep breath, memories flooding back. “There were no demands at first. No yelling. Just... silence. Until a man crouched beside me and explained what they wanted me to do.”
The detective didn’t speak. He just kept driving.
“They wanted my business, although you probably already know that, if you looked at the paperwork. 2901 Lorene Street. Told me to go to the Recorder of Deeds and hand it over like it belonged to them. Five days to comply. And if I didn’t…” The breath stuttered. “He said they’d take it, anyway. Then they’d take me apart.”
Still, nothing.
“They didn’t beat me any more after that,” I murmured. “They didn’t have to. Just the gag. The restraints. The silence. And the voice. Then they drugged me again, I think. Because next thing I remember, I was home.”
He glanced over his shoulder at that. Slower this time.
“In clean clothes,” I added. “Hair washed. Hands scrubbed. Kitchen wiped down. Like I was a doll someone put back on a shelf.”
A long pause.
“The paperwork was just sitting there on the counter.” I reached into my bag, my fingers cold and stiff, and handed him a torn slip of yellow paper, folded and refolded until it barely held shape. “Inside was the completed transfer. The signature line was waiting for me. A company I’ve never heard of. And this.”
You’ve got five days, sweetheart.
He took it, unfolded it with one hand while steering, eyes flicking over the line. Then he refolded it and slid it into the console.
“Recognize the handwriting?”
“No,” I said quietly. “But I’ll never forget the voice.”
The detective exhaled through his nose, an unreadable sound. Agreement, frustration, recognition. Maybe all three.
“So, here’s what I can tell you, Ms. Evans. That company on your form?” he said. “It’s tied to two dozen properties across five states. Shell corporations. Money laundering. Real estate takeovers. Quiet. Efficient. We’ve been chasing them for months.”
My stomach turned. “So I’m not the first.”
“No,” he said. “But you’re the first we’ve found before they vanished.”
I swallowed hard. “I… I didn’t go to the police, because one of them looked like a cop. Or at least wore a uniform like one. If they’ve got badges, how am I supposed to know who’s safe?”
He nodded, more to himself than to me. “We think there are people in the department on their payroll. One confirmed. Two suspected. That’s why we’re talking like this, you know? Off-books.”
“I thought if I stayed quiet, if I did what they asked, they’d forget me. I thought maybe they’d leave me with something.”
“You did what you had to do to stay alive,” he said. “That’s not weakness.”
“It doesn’t feel like survival,” I whispered. “It feels like complicity.”
He glanced over, really looked, and something shifted. Not pity. Not judgment. Just... understanding.
