Chapter 4 - The Midnight Visitor
The second knock was harder.
It rattled the cheap wooden frame of the Ridgewood apartment.
Tamson motioned for Ma to stay back.
She walked silently across the linoleum floor.
Her hand hovered over the rusted iron deadbolt.
"Who is it?" Tamson asked.
Her voice remained low, steady.
No answer came from the hallway.
Only the sound of heavy breathing through the cracked paint of the door.
Tamson turned the key.
She pulled the door inward an inch, the security chain catching it halfway.
A wedge of yellow hallway light fell across the floor.
A pair of wet black shoes stood on the welcome mat.
Tamson’s breath caught in her throat.
She knew those shoes.
She had stared at them four years ago in the sterile hospital corridor while her hands shook.
A large hand gripped the edge of the doorframe.
The knuckles were scarred.
The cuff of a custom-tailored dark suit was damp from the rain.
"Open the door, Miss Hollis," a deep voice commanded.
It was Sabine Lockidge.
Evander Rallo’s lawyer of fifteen years did not look like a man who made house calls at midnight.
His silver hair was slicked back, plastered against his skull by the storm.
His expression was carved from grey stone.
Tamson unhooked the security chain.
She swung the door wide open.
"You're a long way from Riverdale, counselor," Tamson said.
She did not step back.
Sabine stepped past her into the cramped kitchen without waiting for an invitation.
His expensive leather shoes squeaked on the linoleum.
He looked around the tiny room with a look of clinical detachment.
His eyes lingered on the sewing machine, the stacks of fabric, and finally on the photograph resting on the table.
Sabine’s gaze hardened.
"You work fast," Sabine said. "I'll give you that."
"Faster than you expected," Tamson replied.
Ma stood up from her chair, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.
"Get out of our house," Ma said. "We don't need your kind here."
Sabine did not look at Ma.
His eyes remained fixed on Tamson.
"Mr. Rallo doesn't like loose ends," Sabine said smoothly.
"If he wanted me dead, you wouldn't have walked up these stairs alone," Tamson fired back.
"You'd have found me in the East River by sunrise."
A faint twitch appeared at the corner of Sabine’s mouth.
It almost looked like respect.
"Mr. Rallo is a practical man," Sabine said, pulling a leather folio from his inner jacket pocket.
"He doesn't kill women in their kitchens. It's bad for business."
"Then why are you here?"
"To make an offer."
Sabine flipped open the folio.
He laid a single document on top of the photograph.
Tamson looked down.
It was a cashier's check.
The amount written in bold ink was five hundred thousand dollars.
Below it was a standard non-disclosure agreement.
Sign your name.
Take the money.
Disappear forever.
Never speak the name Rallo again.
The silence in the kitchen grew heavy.
Five hundred thousand dollars could buy this building.
It could buy a clinic.
It could buy a new life in California where nobody knew the name Hollis.
Ma stared at the check, her eyes wide with disbelief.
"That's..." Ma started, her voice dry.
"That's hush money," Tamson finished.
She looked up at Sabine.
"Does Evander know you're here offering this?"
"Evander sent me," Sabine said.
"He wants you gone before morning. He doesn't want his mother upset by ghosts from the past."
Tamson reached out.
Her fingers touched the corner of the check.
She slid it across the table.
She picked it up.
Sabine watched her, a faint smirk forming on his lips.
Everyone had a price.
Even the righteous nursing student from Ridgewood.
Tamson folded the check neatly in half.
Then in quarters.
Then she dropped the torn pieces directly into the metal wastebasket beside the table.
Sabine’s smirk vanished.
His eyes narrowed into cold slits.
"You're making a mistake, Miss Hollis."
"I'm not for sale," Tamson said, stepping right up to him.
She was half his size, but she did not flinch.
"My father's name isn't for sale either."
Sabine stared at her for a long, agonizing moment.
He closed his leather folio with a sharp snap.
"You think you have a case," Sabine said softly.
"You think that photograph is a weapon."
"Isn't it?"
"It's a piece of paper typed by a mid-level clerk four years ago," Sabine said.
"You take that to the DA, and the Rallo legal team will chew it up before lunch."
He turned toward the door.
With his hand on the knob, he paused and looked back over his shoulder.
"Enjoy your night, Miss Hollis. Tomorrow, the real world starts again."
The door clicked shut behind him.
The apartment felt colder than before.
Ma slumped back into her chair, trembling.
"Child... that was half a million dollars..."
"It was blood money, Ma," Tamson said, her voice shaking slightly.
She walked over to the window and looked down into the dark street.
Sabine’s black town car was idling at the curb, its headlights cutting through the rain.
As she watched, the car pulled away into the night.
Tamson clenched her fists.
Sabine thought she was powerless.
He thought a check could erase the truth.
He didn't know about the notebook.
He didn't know about the other drivers who had worked for the Rallo family before Abel.
May you like
The drivers who had also left their jobs suddenly.
The drivers who had also vanished from the city.
