Chapter 2 - THE WOMAN WHO DIDN’T EXIST
Amelia disappeared before sunrise.
Vincent discovered it at 6:12 a.m.
Angela called him.
“She checked herself out.”
“When?”
“Four thirty.”
“Where did she go?”
“Nobody knows.”
Vincent stood in his study overlooking Brooklyn.
“Her apartment?”
“Tony checked. Empty.”
That bothered him.
People fled slowly when they were frightened.
Amelia had fled professionally.
Within ninety minutes, Vincent learned that Amelia Carter did not exist before three years ago.
No school records.
No tax history.
No driver’s license before New York.
Nothing.
His attorney, Daniel Russo, placed the report on his desk.
“She’s using an identity.”
Vincent looked at him.
“Why?”
“Maybe ask your waitress.”
“She’s gone.”
“Then apparently she doesn’t want to answer.”
Vincent hated mysteries involving people under his roof.
Especially frightened ones.
By afternoon, Amelia was sitting on a bus heading toward Pennsylvania.
Her real name was Amelia Grace Bennett.
And Raymond Fletcher had once promised that if she ever left him, he would find her.
Raymond had been an assistant district attorney in Philadelphia.
Charming.
Educated.
Respected.
He knew judges.
Police.
Reporters.
He also knew exactly where to hit a woman so photographs would not show it.
Amelia endured four years.
Then one night she found a flash drive inside his home office.
Payments.
Names.
Sealed case information.
Raymond had been selling prosecutorial intelligence.
He was not merely abusive.
He was corrupt.
Amelia copied the files.
She fled.
Two weeks later the friend who helped her disappeared.
Amelia understood the message.
She changed her name.
Changed cities.
Stopped contacting family.
And buried the flash drive where nobody would find it.
She thought she had escaped.
Until Derek Lawson hit her.
The bus stopped at Newark.
Amelia stepped down to transfer.
A man waited beside the terminal doors.
Black coat.
Silver temples.
Vincent Castellano.
Her heart stopped.
“How?”
“You bought the ticket in cash.”
“That doesn’t answer anything.”
“Angela remembered you once mentioning Pittsburgh.”
“So you searched every bus?”
“No.”
A faint smile.
“Only six.”
Amelia stared.
“You’re insane.”
“Probably.”
She walked past him.
He followed.
“Go home, Mr. Castellano.”
“I am home.”
“You know what I mean.”
“No.”
She turned.
“I bring trouble.”
“So?”
“You don’t understand.”
“Then explain.”
“I can’t.”
Vincent’s face changed.
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Both.”
He studied her bruised cheek.
“Is someone looking for you?”
Silence.
“That’s yes.”
“You need to leave.”
“No.”
“Why?”
Vincent answered simply.
“Because yesterday a man hit you in my diner.”
“That doesn’t make me your responsibility.”
“No.”
His voice softened.
“But watching you run away because of what happened there makes it my concern.”
Amelia looked at him.
“Do you save every waitress?”
“No.”
“Then why me?”
Vincent did not answer.
Because the truth was complicated.
His younger sister Sofia had once hidden bruises.
Vincent had believed her explanations.
Door.
Cabinet.
Stairs.
Until the night she died.
He had been twenty-seven.
He had never forgiven himself for mistaking silence for privacy.
“I ignored something once,” he said.
“I don’t anymore.”
Amelia’s expression softened.
Then she saw a man across the terminal.
Gray jacket.
Phone raised.
Photographing them.
Her face changed.
“Get down.”
The terminal window shattered.
Vincent grabbed her.
People screamed.
May you like
And the first bullet meant for Amelia buried itself in the wall behind them.
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