Chapter 2 - THE SCARF THAT CAME BACK WITH A WARNING
I read the message six times before the rideshare stopped outside my building.
My apartment was on the third floor of a narrow brick building in Lincoln Park.
The front steps were cracked.
The heating worked when it felt generous.
And the landlord had promised to replace the broken lobby lock for nearly a year.
I had lived there for four years.
Until Sunday, it had always felt safe enough.
Sunday evening, I'd come home to find my bedroom window open.
Nothing obvious was missing.
My television remained.
My laptop sat on the desk.
The emergency cash hidden inside an old cookbook was untouched.
But my dresser drawers had been opened.
Someone had moved the framed photograph of my mother.
And the small wooden box containing my father's military medals had been placed on my bed.
The police officer who took my report suggested I might have forgotten the window.
I hadn't.
I never forgot that window.
My mother had died in a house fire when I was fourteen.
Since then, I checked locks the way other people checked the weather.
I called the unfamiliar number.
The man answered immediately.
“Emma.”
My pulse accelerated.
“How do you know about my apartment?”
A pause.
“Are you still in the car?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Ask your driver to wait.”
“Answer my question.”
“Your building's front entrance has been watched for the past twenty minutes.”
My mouth went dry.
“By whom?”
“I don't know yet.”
I looked toward the lobby.
A man in a gray hooded jacket stood beside the mailboxes.
He wasn't moving.
“Are you threatening me?”
“No.”
“Then why are you watching my building?”
“Because someone followed your rideshare from the hospital.”
I stared at the dark street.
“Who?”
“That's what I'm trying to determine.”
My breathing quickened.
“Who are you?”
He hesitated.
“Adrian.”
“Adrian what?”
“Moretti.”
The name meant nothing to me.
Not yet.
“Listen, Adrian Moretti. I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but—”
“Emma.”
His voice changed.
Not louder.
Sharper.
“Do not go inside.”
At that exact moment, the man in the gray jacket stepped out of the lobby.
He looked directly at my rideshare.
Then reached into his coat.
I ducked.
My driver cursed.
A black SUV turned onto the street.
Its headlights flashed twice.
The man in gray stopped.
Then hurried away.
My phone remained pressed against my ear.
Adrian spoke.
“Did he leave?”
“Yes.”
“Stay where you are. The police have been contacted.”
I closed my eyes.
“What is happening?”
For the first time, he sounded uncertain.
“I don't know.”
May you like
Then he added:
“But I intend to find out.”
