Chapter 9 - The Morning Calls
I didn't call the police to tell them where he was. I called Volkov’s men.
Then, I went upstairs, ran a hot bath, and finally, for the first time since Leo’s heart monitor had flatlined, I cried. I cried for my little boy with the crooked crayon drawings. I wept for the future that was stolen from us. But the tears were no longer filled with helpless agony. They were the tears of a storm that had finally broken.
The next morning, at exactly 7:00 a.m., my phone rang.
It was the local precinct.
"Mrs. Vance? This is Detective Miller," a gruff voice said. "I’m sorry to disturb you, ma'am. We’re calling about your husband, David."
"Yes, Detective? What is it?" I asked, keeping my voice steady.
"We found him at the marina this morning. Ma'am... he was severely beaten. He’s in critical condition. And, well, he’s also under arrest. Federal agents are swarming the hospital regarding massive corporate fraud."
"Oh my God," I breathed, feigning shock. "Is he... is he asking for me?"
"He can't speak, ma'am. His jaw is wired shut. But his phone... it looks like he tried to call you seventeen times last night before he was attacked."
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I looked over at the kitchen counter, where my phone sat perfectly silent.
"I'm so sorry, Detective," I said softly. "My phone must have died. I'll be there soon."
