Page 9 of Forgotten Sacrifice
After securing the investigator in my trunk, I thank Fabio and my brother before dropping my phone in a signal-blocking bag. Driving to the Passaic River, I get out of my vehicle and walk to the banks, sending a text to Aspen’s father.
Sorry to report I can’t find any dirt on the girl.
Wiping down the man’s phone, I chuck it in the water.
Continuing on to a Parisi Construction site, I unload the investigator and put a bullet in his head before tossing him in a pit.
“There’s your dirt.” I spit on his grave.
Chapter
Five
Luna
“We’re going down the shore.” Olivia plops on the couch beside me in our dorm’s shared space, with our friend Emma taking a seat across from us. “Kevin’s parents are out of the country, and everyone’s hanging at his beach house.”
“You have to come with us,” Emma chimes in. “It’ll be a pregame birthday celebration for you and Olivia.”
I shake my head, placing my laptop on the coffee table. “I have a chess tournament this weekend, but have fun.”
“Nope. Not taking no for an answer. Get up early and take the train to your tournament. Problem solved,” Olivia declares.
“Problemnotsolved; I don’t have a weekend pass.” And no way Vince would approve.
“One weekend pass coming right up.” Olivia sends a text, but frowns.
“Problem?” I ask.
“Oh, just my mother trying to ruin my birthday. She’sinsisting on hosting a party for me in the Hamptons.” Olivia rolls her eyes, her thumbs flying over her phone before tossing it on the table.
“That bitch,” I joke.
“Right?” Olivia says, missing my sarcasm. “I hate the fucking Hamptons. The only reason she wants me there is to show off her new butt lift.”
“Oww, I’ve heard that’s super painful,” Emma comments.
“Mommie dearest has enough opioid scripts to where I’m sure she’ll manage,” Olivia says dismissively.
There’s a knock on the door, and Olivia calls, “Come in.”
“Whatsup?” A guy sticks his head in our dorm room.
“We need your expertise,” Olivia says.
Looking around the hall, he enters our dorm and closes the door behind him. “What kind of document?” he asks quietly.
“Weekend pass.”
“Please, give me a challenge,” he boasts. “One hundred for the forgery if I have a photo of the signature in question; one thousand if I don’t.”
My eyes go wide. “A thousand bucks?” I don’t have access to that kind of money. Vince foots the tuition bill, but he’s made it clear he considers my education a business expense, one in which he expects a big return.
The guy shrugs. “The higher the risk, the higher the price tag.”
“I’ve got it covered,” Olivia assures me. “What kind of cryptocurrency do you accept?”
“Hold up, let me see if I can find you an example,” I interject. Searching my email, I find Vince’s illegible signature on a field trip permission form. “Here you go.” I turn my screen around.
