Chapter 5 - THE ENFORCER AT MY DOOR
The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in violent shades of purple and orange.
Shadows stretched long and crooked across the forest floor.
I locked every window of the cabin.
I pulled the heavy plaid curtains shut.
My hands didn't shake.
Fear had burned itself out days ago, replaced by a cold, surgical focus.
If Marcus was smart, he would bring the ledger.
If he was loyal to a monster, he would send a bullet through my front door.
At 9:45 PM, headlights flashed across the gravel driveway.
A single black SUV rolled silently to a stop beside my rental sedan.
No sirens.
No flashing lights.
Just the low, menacing purr of a heavy V8 engine.
I stood in the darkened kitchen, holding a heavy cast-iron skillet in my right hand.
The front door handle rattled softly.
Then came three sharp, deliberate knocks.
“Claire?” Marcus’s voice called out from the dark porch.
“I’m alone.”
“I brought the book.”
I walked slowly across the creaking floorboards.
I didn't unlock the door right away.
“Slide it under the crack, Marcus,” I instructed.
“You want to verify it before you open up?” Marcus asked, his voice strained.
“Smart woman.”
A thick, leather-bound book slid across the wooden floor inside the entryway.
I knelt down and picked it up.
I flipped it open under the dim hallway light.
Red ink.
Official notarized stamps.
Vincent’s personal signature on every single page documenting illegal arms sales and casino skimming.
The holy grail of organized crime evidence.
I slid the deadbolt open and pulled the door wide.
Marcus stood in the cold night air, his coat soaked with evening mist, holding a cigarette between trembling fingers.
“You have the ledger,” Marcus said, looking down at my hands.
“Now clear my name.”
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“Step inside, Marcus,” I said, stepping aside.
“We have work to do.”
