Abigail

"What are the chances that Finnegan would skin me alive for this?"

"A hundred and forty percent," Annette replied, tapping rapidly on her laptop, while I scanned through the Facebook lists on my phone.

The clock at the top of my screen read 11:04. It was still morning, but I was bored out of my wits. I couldn’t stay in bed any longer. My bruises throbbed, but the pain was dull.

The more we wasted time and dragged around, the riskier it was that we would lose this case.

I had the evidence now — real, damning evidence from Cole’s phone — but it wasn’t enough. We needed a witness.

We needed Owen Smith, and we had better find him before that scheming old witch realized we were looking for him and tried to get rid of him like she got rid of Cole.

I wondered if she had found out Gavin was dead yet. Or maybe not.

Annette and I sat on her bed. The doctor had ordered bed rest for both of us, but that was about as likely as sleeping in a burning house.

Neither of us could obey that, especially when the thirty-day deadline for my parents’ case was ticking down like a bomb.

"I found his number," Annette said, her fingers flying across the keyboard. "Owen Smith. He’s retired and lives on the outskirts of the city, in a quiet neighborhood. It wasn’t easy to dig up, considering he’s been off the grid for years."

"Well, he’s about to get back on the grid," I muttered. "I’m sorry, Mr. Smith."

My heart raced as she dialed the number on speakerphone. It rang three times before a gruff, wary voice answered.

"Who is this?"

I leaned closer to the phone. "Mr. Smith? This is Abigail Kellerman. Hugo and Isabella Kellerman’s daughter. I have some questions about my parents. About what happened fifteen years ago at Lander Logistics. Please, I just need a few minutes of your time."

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end.

"No," Owen Smith whispered, voice trembling. "Don’t call me again. Ever. I signed an NDA. I can’t talk about any of that. They’ll kill me if I do. Just like they killed your parents. Leave me alone!"

The line went dead. Annette and I glanced at each other.

"Well, that was expected. If he had just started confessing for no reason, I would have suspected him right off the bat," I grumbled, trying to fight the frustration building inside me.

Just who the fuck did Gina Wolfe and her crazy son think they were? How many people had they threatened, maimed, and killed just to get whatever they wanted?

I glared at the phone. "He’s terrified. But that means he knows something, right? He has to."

Annette nodded, already pulling up his address. "We’re not giving up. His place is on the outskirts. We can drive there and confront his ass in person."

"Let’s take the biggest guard Finn has with us. That’ll get him to talk." Annette chuckled.

"Nothing motivates you to speak like a six-foot-four hulk ready to smash you into pieces."

"Ugh, that makes us no different than that old witch. Threatening to get whatever we want," I mumbled. "If I have to grovel and beg Owen to talk, then I would."

We got dressed quickly, grabbing our coats. As we reached the front door, River and Angel appeared, blocking our path.

"Where do you think you’re going?" River asked, arms crossed, eyes sharp. "The doctor said bed rest."

"River, wait, just listen—"

Angel stamped her feet, narrowing her eyes at me. "Dad will be furious if he finds out you left. You’re supposed to be resting!"

I sighed, but my voice was firm. "We have to find Owen Smith before Gina and Devin realize he’s a link to them. He’s the witness we need to keep my parents’ case open. If we wait, they might get to him first. I can’t risk that."

River’s stern eyes softened, but she still shook her head. "Finnegan would kill me if I let you go alone. At least let us come with you."

"No," I said immediately, looking at Angel. "If anything happens to Angel, Finnegan would never forgive me. You two stay here. Annette and I can handle this."

"Besides, we’ll take like ten guards with us,"

Annette shuddered. "There’s no way I’m going anywhere alone after that night."

My stomach clenched with guilt. Other friends gave their besties flowers and chocolate; I had given my best friend lifelong PTSD.

"Maybe you should sit this one out as well, Annette."

She glared at me. "Don’t you dare go soft on me right now. I’m the Batman to your Robin, babes — where you go, I go. Now to the Batmobile!"

A sad smile tugged at my lips. What could I ever do to make it up to Annette?

After a hundred pieces of advice from River and Angel on what to do if there was trouble, we set off for Owen’s place with two cars, one of them carrying men from Finnegan’s security team.

It took a whole hour to get there. Owen Smith’s house was a small, weathered building at the end of a quiet street in the suburbs. We had the men park a block away, and only Annette and I approached the house on foot.

The last thing I needed was to send Owen into panic mode by showing up in front of his house with ten men looking like FBI agents.

When Owen opened the door and saw us, his face went white. He tried to slam it shut, but I wedged my foot in the gap.

"Please," I begged. "We just need to talk. We have proof. We can protect you."

He backed away, eyes wide with terror. "No. I signed an NDA. They’ll kill me. Just like they killed Hugo and Isabella. Leave me alone!"

Annette and I pushed inside, cornering him in his living room. I held up the picture of Gina and Devin on my phone. "Are these the people who threatened you? The ones who told you to stay quiet?"

Owen stared at the photo, his hands trembling. "Yes... How did you know?"

"We can protect you," I argued. "We have evidence. We just need you to be a witness, to tell the truth about what happened fifteen years ago. Please, Mr. Smith. My parents deserve justice."

He shook his head, backing into the corner. "You don’t understand. They own everything. The police, the courts, everything. I can’t. I won’t."

We kept talking, pleading, showing him more documents from Cole’s phone. Owen kept refusing, trying to throw us out.

Then a ferocious knock sounded on the door, rattling the frame.

All three of us jumped. My heart leapt to my throat. Owen’s face drained of color.

"They found me," he whispered in horror.