Chapter 2 - THE WOMAN WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD
Nora didn't run.
Running attracted attention.
She had learned that three years earlier, when her life had been reduced to a suitcase, a forged obituary, and a bus ticket to Chicago.
Instead, she stepped beneath the awning of a closed pharmacy and watched the street reflected in its darkened windows.
A silver sedan stood across the intersection.
Its headlights were off.
The driver was looking directly at her.
Her phone vibrated again.
DON'T MAKE THIS DIFFICULT.
Nora turned down the nearest side street.
She didn't go home.
Not immediately.
Her apartment was the one place she couldn't afford to lead anyone.
Instead, she entered an all-night grocery store and remained near the cashier until the silver sedan disappeared.
Only then did she take a cab to a neighborhood three miles from her building and walk the remaining distance.
Inside her apartment, she locked both doors.
Then she opened the bottom drawer of her dresser.
Beneath folded sweaters lay a manila envelope.
Inside was a newspaper clipping.
YOUNG FINANCIAL ANALYST PRESUMED DEAD AFTER WAREHOUSE FIRE.
The photograph beneath the headline showed a woman with shoulder-length brunette hair.
Her name was Eleanor Grace.
That woman was Nora.
Or rather, she had been.
Before the fire.
Before the investigation.
Before the night her closest friend disappeared.
Nora touched the photograph.
Three years ago, she had been a junior forensic accounting analyst at a New York investment firm called Halden & Pierce.
Her job was to examine discrepancies in corporate transactions.
She was good at it.
Too good.
When she discovered a network of fraudulent invoices and unauthorized transfers, she reported her findings to her supervisor, Daniel Mercer.
Two days later, her apartment was searched.
Her colleague and best friend, Sophie Lane, vanished.
And a warehouse containing financial records burned to the ground.
Investigators mistakenly believed Nora had died inside.
Nora had escaped through a service exit minutes before the explosion.
She had been injured.
Terrified.
And convinced someone inside the firm wanted her dead.
A lawyer who had once worked with her late father helped her establish a protected new identity while investigators examined the case.
But the investigation stalled.
Witnesses withdrew.
Records disappeared.
And Nora remained in hiding.
Until tonight.
She looked at the message again.
YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO STAY DEAD.
Someone had recognized her.
Someone who knew about the fire.
And the twelve million dollars on Roman Castiglione's table might be connected to the very fraud that had destroyed her life.
At seven the next morning, Roman sat in his office overlooking downtown Chicago.
Marco stood across from him.
“Her employment history checks out,” Marco said.
Roman looked up.
“Completely?”
“Two years at Bellaforte. Before that, almost nothing.”
Roman leaned back.
“Almost?”
Marco hesitated.
“She has a valid identity. But the trail begins unusually late.”
Roman studied the diagram.
“Someone taught her how to read financial statements.”
“Maybe she taught herself.”
“Maybe.”
Roman tapped the paper.
“But she recognized something.”
Marco frowned.
“What?”
Roman pointed toward a company name.
Meridian Harbor Development.
“Yesterday, when she saw this, her hand stopped moving.”
Marco studied the page.
“Think she knows them?”
Roman nodded slowly.
“I think she's afraid of them.”
His phone rang.
Gerald, the restaurant manager.
“Mr. Castiglione?”
“Yes.”
“There's something you should know.”
Roman sat forward.
“Nora didn't come to work this morning.”
“She works evenings.”
“I know. But she called and resigned.”
Roman went still.
“Resigned?”
“Effective immediately.”
Across the city, Nora stood at Union Station holding a one-way ticket.
She had decided to leave Chicago.
Again.
Then she saw the news playing on a television above the ticket counter.
A financial reporter was discussing a proposed twelve-million-dollar real estate investment.
The company involved was Meridian Harbor Development.
The reporter mentioned its chief financial officer.
Daniel Mercer.
Nora stopped breathing.
Her former supervisor.
The man she had trusted.
The man who had received her fraud report three days before the fire.
He was in Chicago.
And he was about to take twelve million dollars from Roman Castiglione.
Nora slowly lowered her ticket.
She could run.
May you like
Or she could finally find out what had happened to Sophie.
For the first time in three years, she chose not to run.
