Page 7 of Crown Of Blood
My stomach twists.
I pull out my phone and text my best friend, Casey. She is probably just leaving her job at the bar now.
Me:
If I go missing, check my desk drawer.
She replies instantly:
Casey:
Jesus, Isa. What happened?
Me:
Probably nothing. Just… weird feeling.
Casey:
You and your weird feelings have gotten you shot at before.
Me:
Exactly why I trust them.
I pocket the phone, take a steadying breath, and step back outside.
The sedan's gone.
Relief should come. It doesn't.
I quicken my pace, eyes scanning every shadow. When I reach my building, I slip inside fast, locking the door and leaning against it. My heart won't calm.
The apartment's small but tidy—books everywhere, half-filled coffee mugs, corkboard walls covered in case notes. I cross to the window and draw the curtains.
The sound of rain against glass fills the silence. I toss my bag onto the couch, then sink down beside it, pulling out my laptop again. The file's still open on the screen:
Follow the river.
That's what the email said. I send Casey a message to let her know I got home.
I scroll through the transaction list again, whispering to myself as I map the routes. “River… river…”
And then it clicks.
East River Construction — one of the companies under the Moretti umbrella. The same company that secured a major city contract last year after the mayor's campaign fundraiser.
I open the public permits list. East River was awarded the project for the Brooklyn Pier redevelopment—public funds, private contract, millions in budget overruns.
And the same month the money vanished from the account, someone donated half a million to the mayor's reelection fund.
Got you.
The adrenaline hits like champagne bubbles in my blood. This is it. The proof.
But when I click to save the file, an error flashes across the screen.
Access Denied.
