Twin Threat Christmas

Oh, dear Lord, help me now. If there’s evidence here, help me find it.

She turned on the computer and, while it was powering up, fit the small keys into the filing cabinet and desk drawers.

The papers in the filing cabinet were arranged in neat files. She found page after page of numbers on grids, years, incoming, expenses—but no words pointing to the true sources of the funds. While most of the crime ring’s income came from human trafficking and drugs, nonetheless, Vanessa was aware of at least one of their cover operations—selling luxury goods for vastly inflated prices. Few people actually bought their ten-thousand-dollar handbags or five-hundred-dollar key chains, but all the documents in the filing cabinet seemed to indicate their money came from those sources.

Disgusted, Vanessa slid the last drawer closed and turned her attention to the computer. She’d always enjoyed using computers before Jeff took her. He, of course, wouldn’t let her online at all, not until after Abby was born. Then, out of his reluctance to let her take the baby to any more medical appointments than was absolutely necessary, he’d let her research any of Abby’s sniffles and rashes online—as long as he was in the same room to be sure she didn’t visit any social networks or do anything to reach out for help.

After every time Jeff let her use the internet, he always checked her browser history afterward, so Vanessa knew well how to check the sites he’d visited recently. Reading through his browser history, she skimmed past the familiar website names, instead checking those that sounded suspicious.

On the third try, she got a sign-in page.

Members Only.

The login name was already entered. The password box held ten black dots.

Enter.

The page that appeared made her stomach turn. Human trafficking, in all its sordid wretchedness.

So visceral was her response, it took her a moment to realize the vibration she felt was coming from her pocket and not her racing heart.

Debbi’s phone. She pulled it out and glanced at the screen. Two men.

That was all. Obviously Eric had been in too much of a hurry to type any more information. She must not have much time.

She glanced around the room. There was nowhere to hide. The computer—she didn’t dare leave it turned on. What if whoever had arrived came into this room? It seemed likely enough they would—anyone visiting the office at this hour might well be there because of Jeff’s death.

Vanessa shut down the computer, then opened the door just a crack. She peeked into the hallway but saw no one, heard no signs of life. Quickly, she darted out, hoping to reach the stairs, but at that moment, a dull boom sounded, and voices fluttered up from the foyer.

The boom was the main door opening. They were coming in the front door. She couldn’t go down the stairs, not with them coming in that way. She glanced behind her, hoping to see an exit sign, but there was nothing but the row of locked doors behind her.

She was trapped, with no escape.

“His office is upstairs.” Virgil’s voice echoed through the open stairway from below. The man who’d killed Jeff was on his way, and he wasn’t alone.

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