Chapter 9 - The Trap is Set
Inside the damp motel room in Cancun, Julian was already packing the single backpack. His eyes were bright, his face flushed with a manic excitement.
"We're going back, Melissa!" he said, his fingers flying as he zipped the bag shut. "Clara cracked. She’s terrified of the police and the scandal. She told me about a safe in the basement with two hundred thousand in cash and bonds."
Melissa stood up, her eyes narrowing. "A safe? How do we know it’s not a trap?"
"Because she’s Clara!" Julian laughed, a cruel, mocking sound. "She’s weak, Melissa. She spent twenty-five years doing exactly what I told her to do. She’s terrified of being alone and ruined. She wants to buy her way out of this mess. We go back, we get the cash, we use my offshore contact to launder it, and then we go to Europe."
"And what about the credit cards?" she asked.
"We don't need them once we have the cash," Julian said, grabbing his passport. "But we have to be smart. We can't fly into Richmond. The feds might have the airports flagged. We'll take a bus to Tijuana, cross the border on foot at San Ysidro using fake ID cards I bought from the motel owner, and then rent a car to drive back to Virginia."
"On foot?" Melissa gasped, her face contorted in disgust. "You want me to walk across the border like a common refugee?"
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Julian stopped, his expression turning cold. He looked at Melissa, seeing her not as his beautiful, elegant lover, but as a useless anchor dragging him down.
"If you don't like it, Melissa, you can stay here," he said, his voice quiet and threatening. "But without me, you have no money, no passport, and no way out. So I suggest you shut your mouth and start walking."
