Chapter 6 - The Enemy Who Saved My Life
“Stay down!”
I pressed Vanessa beneath the heavy desk as another shot struck the wall.
Glass scattered across the carpet.
The office alarm began screaming.
Vanessa covered her head.
“Oh my God.”
“Don't move.”
“My father—”
“Not now.”
I looked toward the shattered window.
The shooter was somewhere across the street.
I couldn't see the weapon.
I couldn't see a face.
But I could see the angle.
Whoever was firing had a clear line into Vanessa's office.
I grabbed my phone and called 911.
Shots fired.
Fourth floor.
Whitmore Foundation.
Two women trapped.
I gave the address twice.
Then the building's fire alarm sounded.
Vanessa was shaking so badly she could barely breathe.
“They're going to kill me.”
I looked at her.
“Who?”
She shook her head.
“Vanessa.”
“No.”
“Who?”
She grabbed my wrist.
“Martin.”
The name struck like a blow.
“Martin Shaw?”
She nodded.
“He works for my father.”
I looked toward the door.
The electronic lock was still engaged.
“Why would he shoot at you?”
“Because I told Daddy I wanted out.”
“Out of what?”
She started crying.
“Everything.”
A bullet struck the filing cabinet.
I pulled her lower.
“Then start talking.”
She wiped her face.
“Gabriel found out about the waste contracts.”
“I know.”
“He thought my father was stealing money.”
“He was.”
Vanessa nodded.
“But that wasn't the worst part.”
I stared at her.
“What was?”
She looked toward the broken window.
“The company wasn't just dumping hazardous waste.”
I waited.
“They were changing the inspection results.”
“Why?”
“Because some of the equipment was defective.”
I felt cold.
“Defective how?”
“Pressure valves.”
“On what?”
“Industrial containment systems.”
I remembered my father's job.
Safety technician.
He inspected equipment before it shipped.
Vanessa continued.
“Gabriel found out the valves could fail under normal operating conditions.”
“And your father knew?”
“Yes.”
“Did Victor Moretti know?”
She hesitated.
“I don't know how much.”
I stared at her.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I don't care what you believe!”
Her voice cracked.
“I was nineteen!”
I almost shouted back.
Then I saw the terror in her eyes.
She wasn't pretending.
But fear didn't erase what she'd done.
“Why were you at the hospital?”
She looked away.
“My father made me visit Gabriel.”
“Why?”
“Because Gabriel trusted me.”
My stomach tightened.
“Were you dating him?”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“We were friends.”
I thought about Dominic.
His dead brother.
His fiancée.
The secrets connecting them.
“What happened at the hospital?”
Vanessa's hands trembled.
“Gabriel gave me something.”
“The pendant.”
She nodded.
“He said if anything happened to him, I had to find Thomas Carter.”
My throat closed.
“Did you?”
She looked at me.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because my father found out.”
I stared at her.
“He threatened me.”
“What did he say?”
“That Gabriel was sick.”
“That he was paranoid.”
“That Thomas was dangerous.”
I leaned closer.
“And you believed him?”
She began crying harder.
“I wanted to.”
Outside, sirens grew louder.
I heard shouting in the hallway.
A security officer pounded on the door.
“Miss Whitmore!”
I looked at Vanessa.
“Where is the pendant?”
She hesitated.
“Vanessa.”
“In my apartment.”
“Can your father get it?”
Her face changed.
“He has a key.”
I swore.
The door finally opened.
Two police officers entered with weapons drawn.
They moved us into the hallway.
Within minutes, the building was evacuated.
Claire met us outside.
She took one look at Vanessa.
“What happened?”
“Someone tried to kill her,” I said.
Claire's eyes narrowed.
“Who?”
“Martin Shaw.”
Vanessa began shaking again.
A detective approached.
He introduced himself as Daniel Ruiz.
He took our initial statements and separated us for questioning.
I told him everything.
The birthday party.
The necklace.
The threats.
The office shooting.
I also gave him the photograph of Vanessa at Gabriel's hospital.
Ruiz listened without interrupting.
When I finished, he looked toward Vanessa.
“She's willing to make a formal statement.”
I blinked.
“She is?”
“Yes.”
“About her father?”
“Potentially.”
I looked at Vanessa through the window of the police interview room.
She sat with her hands folded.
Her face was pale.
For the first time, she looked nothing like the woman who had slapped me.
But I wasn't ready to forgive her.
Not even close.
Dominic arrived twenty minutes later.
He rushed toward us.
“Avery!”
I stood.
He stopped when he saw me.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
He looked toward Vanessa.
“Is she?”
“Not physically.”
His jaw tightened.
“What happened?”
I told him.
When I mentioned Martin Shaw, Dominic's expression turned murderous.
“Where is he?”
“Gone.”
Dominic looked toward the police.
“I'll give them everything I have.”
“Good,” I said.
He looked at me.
“You don't believe me.”
“I believe you want answers.”
“That's a start.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“It's not.”
He fell silent.
I stepped closer.
“Your family buried my father.”
Dominic didn't deny it.
“Your fiancée knew about Gabriel.”
He looked toward Vanessa.
“I know.”
“And someone has been threatening my mother.”
His expression changed.
“What?”
I showed him the messages.
He read them.
Then closed his eyes.
For a moment, he looked older than thirty-five.
“I'll arrange protection.”
“I already contacted the police.”
“Then I'll cooperate with them.”
I studied him.
“Why?”
He opened his eyes.
“Because I should have done this years ago.”
Before I could respond, Claire approached.
“Vanessa just gave Ruiz the address of her apartment.”
Dominic turned.
“Why?”
“She says Gabriel's pendant is there.”
My pulse quickened.
Claire continued.
“Officers are going to secure the apartment and seek the necessary warrant.”
Dominic nodded.
“Good.”
Then Vanessa appeared in the doorway.
She looked directly at me.
“Avery.”
I didn't move.
She swallowed.
“I'm sorry.”
I stared at her.
“For what?”
Her face crumpled.
“For what I did at the party.”
I shook my head.
“That isn't the only thing you need to apologize for.”
“I know.”
She looked down.
“I know.”
I wanted to hate her.
Part of me still did.
But another part understood that fear could make people cruel.
It didn't excuse cruelty.
It only explained some of it.
Vanessa reached into her purse.
A detective immediately stepped closer.
She stopped.
“It's just a photograph.”
Ruiz inspected it before allowing her to hand it over.
I looked down.
The picture showed my father standing beside Gabriel.
Both men were smiling.
Between them stood a little girl.
About ten years old.
Dark hair.
A red jacket.
I stared.
“Who is she?”
Vanessa's voice trembled.
“That's what Gabriel wanted your father to investigate.”
I looked closer.
The girl had a small scar above her eyebrow.
A scar I recognized.
Because I had the same one.
I looked up slowly.
“Vanessa.”
May you like
She began crying.
“Why am I in this photograph?”
