Chapter 8 - The Lawyer
I paced the cheap motel room all night, the USB drive burning a hole in my pocket. If we couldn't trust the local police, and if exposing the cartel would put a target on our backs, we needed a surgical strike. We needed someone who understood the law but operated outside it.
"Marcus," I muttered aloud.
Leo looked up from the television. "Who?"
"An old friend of Claire's," I explained, pulling out the burner phone. "He's a corporate defense attorney in Chicago. He hated Arthur. Claire used to say Marcus was the only person ruthless enough to scare her husband."
I dialed the number from memory. It rang four times before a deep voice answered. "Yeah?"
"Marcus, it's Sarah Pendelton. Claire’s sister."
A long pause. "Sarah. It's been years. I heard about the police raid at Arthur's house on the news this morning. They say you kidnapped his nephew."
My stomach dropped. "He’s framing me. Marcus, Arthur murdered Claire. I have proof. And I have Leo. But we have nowhere to go."
"Where are you?" Marcus asked, his tone instantly shifting from casual to commanding.
May you like
"A motel near Bellingham."
"Get rid of your car. It has a GPS tracker in the chassis; Arthur insists on them for all family vehicles. I'm sending a private transport. Trust no one but the driver."
