Chapter 3 - The Shadow on the Wall
Rachel walked out of the hotel's employee entrance into the biting cold of the morning air. Snow was beginning to fall over the gray concrete alleyway, dusting her coat in light white powder.
She wasn't crying anymore. The fear that had paralyzed her the previous night had burned away, replaced by an icy, focused anger.
Marcus caught up with her at the mouth of the alley, clutching a brown paper bag.
"Take this," he said, handing her the bag. Inside was the clear plastic bag containing the double-headed dragon key and the slip of paper. "Henderson is going to clear my access logs by noon. He's trying to bury the whole thing. I downloaded the raw, unedited footage from yesterday onto a flash drive and put it in there too."
"Marcus, you're going to lose your job," Rachel said, looking up at him with deep concern.
"I’m resigning on Friday anyway," Marcus smiled bitterly. "I can't work for a coward who throws honest people under the bus to appease a rich narcissist. But Rachel... you need to be careful. Evelyn Carter isn't working alone. That husband of hers—Julian Vance—was standing in the lobby this morning talking to a private security detail."
"They're watching me?"
"If they planted that key to frame you or force your hand, they're waiting to see what you do next," Marcus warned. "Don't go straight home. Take the loop. Check behind you."
Rachel nodded, pulling her scarf tight around her neck. "Thank you, Marcus. For everything."
She walked toward the bus stop on Michigan Avenue. The morning rush hour was in full swing; commuters in dark coats hurried past her, their faces buried in scarves and phones. Rachel stepped onto the rear platform of the number 147 bus, taking a seat by the window.
As the bus pulled away from the curb, she looked back.
Parked across the street from the hotel entrance was a sleek, silver Audi with dark tinted windows. As the bus moved forward, the Audi pulled smoothly out of its spot, maintaining a three-car distance behind the bus.
Rachel’s stomach churned. Marcus was right. Evelyn and her husband weren't just trying to get her fired; they were stalking her every move.
She reached into her purse and felt the hard, metallic outline of the dragon key through the paper bag. Whatever secret David had taken to his grave, it was now locked inside a vault that this key opened—and Evelyn Vance was willing to destroy Rachel's life to get it back.
When the bus reached her neighborhood in South Chicago, Rachel got off three stops early. She ducked into a crowded grocery store, navigating through the narrow aisles of canned goods and fresh produce before slipping out through the rear delivery door into an alley.
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The silver Audi cruised slowly past the front of the grocery store, unaware that she had slipped through its fingers.
Rachel ran the remaining four blocks to her apartment building, her heart hammering against her ribs, her breath coming in ragged white gasps. She scrambled up the creaking wooden stairs to her second-floor unit, unlocked the door, and threw herself inside, locking all three deadbolts behind her.
