Chapter 7 - The Burner Phone
I dragged the assassin's body into the brush. Sirens were already wailing in the distance; someone had heard the crash. I searched his pockets and found a cheap burner phone. Only one number was in the call log. It had received a text message five minutes ago: Is it done?
I typed back: Yes. He's dead. Three dots appeared as the other person typed. Good. Meet at the warehouse on 5th to get your payment.
I pocketed the phone and abandoned my banged-up truck, slipping into the woods. The police would find the wreck and assume I fled, which bought me time. I had a meeting to attend.
An hour later, I was perched on the rusted catwalk of an abandoned textile warehouse downtown. The heavy steel doors groaned open below. A figure walked in, carrying a metal briefcase. It wasn't Greg.
May you like
It was Eleanor. My refined, pearl-wearing mother-in-law.
"Are you there?" she called out into the darkness, her voice steady and chillingly calm. "I have the rest of the money."
