His Betrayal Funded My Revenge

klyn tasted like

ater and running down her wrist in thin pink rivers. Her ribs screamed with every breath.

ots splashed t

four. She didn'

ley narrowed ahead, brick walls pressing close, fire escapes tangled overhead like metal vines. No exi

led for

er button. The cold blue glow painted her shaking hands. She hunched over it

g," a voice called.

gh her knees. She shoved the ph

irst hit when they cornered her outside the warehouse, before she'd screamed and clawed and run

tench of rotting food and chemical waste made her gag. She presse

ainwater dripped from her hair onto

app. Scrolled to the

ti

husb

made her Abigail Shepard on paper, ev

call button and

ri

w

re

f her hiding spot. She could hear th

r r

i

g. A boot kicked a loose can, sendi

ri

ve

ked. Abigail'

Attilio Shepard.

ecorded in a studio somewhere. It didn't sound li

er chest and squeezed her eyes shut. A tear escaped, hot a

r to her le

ike a gunshot. Abigail's body jerked, her free hand flying to her mouth to trap the scr

n there?" one

the oth

econds. M

The police would take too long. The questions would take longer. She

he name. Pr

ang

the line, background noise of the newsroo

n. She pressed harder against the dumpster, feeling the rust flake against her coa

rd him moving, shouting something at someone in

use." She heard boots approaching

it in right now. Stay on the

She could see the toe of a steel-toed work boot, black with yellow

beside her. Jagged, thick, probably from a beer bottle.

oot s

sto

blue lights swept across the alley mouth,

voice mutt

's m

the far end of the alley. A metal gate clanged. Then si

armless now. Her legs gave out. She slid down the dumpster until she was sitting in

. She'd dropped the phone. "Abby, talk to

it, her finger

re they gone?

n in her mouth. She wasn't

'm twenty minutes out. Don't

ain was slowing, or maybe she

as Phineas moved somewhere quieter

nt. Everyone always

atic, polished from years of use. "International

eard keyboard keys clicking. "I have a source at the FAA. Pri

ened. "What are y

two minutes ago. Flight origin: Paris-Le Bourget. Passen

he baseball bat would h

nd

that Attilio had been paying for three ye

were digging into her palm, nails cutting crescents into t

een hours ago. He's been on the ground for half an hour. He's not in a meeting. He's not

way. Abigail stared at it, watching the r

link right now. To a gossip site. They

igger than the alley. Her phone buzzed with the notification. Her thumb, moving with a will of its o

ases ago, the one he'd never worn. He was leaning over a wheelchair, his hand on the shoulder of the woman sittin

hair perfect, face pale and beautiful,

on the photo

minut

shing his ex-girlfriend through a climate-controlled te

er stomach, and dry-heaved into the filthy water.

the car now. Stay wher

two blocks, maybe one. She could see the patrol car

need a

ound like yo

the dumpster for support. Her ribs how

take you. At l

, cutting through the fog. "No r

she disappeared three years ago and became someone else, someone whose name

"Twenty minutes. Stay in the alley

ving, limping toward the street, away from the patro

bb

ded th

gail pressed herself into the shadow of a fire escape until

hed in her pocket, her coat collar pulled high to hide the blood on her neck. Every step sent fresh li

e a physical blow. The kid behind the count

om?" sh

ordless, to t

the lottery tickets and the cigarettes locked behind glass. The bathroom door

ng back at her

r lower lip was split, crusted with dried blood. Her left eye was beginning to close, the skin arou

woman who had been used and disc

d again, until the water ran pink and then clear. She scrubbed at her skin with brown

buzzed in

ing Phineas, expecting mo

tilio. A singl

a success. Going into

. He was at JFK. With her. And he was texting his wife a pre-packag

e. Long enough for the screen to dim and

r button. Held it down. S

om trash can, on top of the bloody pa

sound, plastic

hrough her wet hair, arranging it to cover the worst

counter where the kid still stared, out i

ome was a penthouse on the Upper East Side with a view of

entually return, smelling of Candace's

Manhattan, toward the bridg

steady. Her f

not lo

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