Chapter 2 - THE FRIEND WHO KNEW TOO MUCH
Daniel’s men moved before he gave an order.
That was the first thing I noticed.
One appeared near the front door.
Another near the kitchen.
A third crossed the bar without touching anyone.
No shouting.
No panic.
Just quiet control.
I hated how reassuring it felt.
Daniel looked at me.
“You are coming with me.”
“No.”
His eyebrows rose.
“I need to find Olivia.”
“So do I.”
“My friends are missing.”
“And whoever took them used my name to get you here.”
I pushed back my chair.
“That does not make you in charge of me.”
He stood.
“No.”
Good.
Then:
“It makes the situation connected to me.”
I stared.
“Better wording.”
“I am adapting.”
The man beside him almost smiled.
Daniel looked at him.
“Thomas.”
The smile vanished.
“Car is ready.”
I collected my handbag.
Daniel noticed my hand shaking.
He said nothing.
That helped.
Outside, the Grand Oak entrance had become a wall of black cars.
I stopped.
“This is subtle.”
Daniel opened one door.
“I did not claim subtle.”
I got in.
The interior smelled like leather and cedar.
Daniel sat across from me in the rear cabin.
Thomas took the front.
The vehicle moved.
“Where are we going?”
“To the garage where Olivia’s car was found.”
“Police?”
“Not yet.”
I stared.
“Why?”
“Because the message came to me.”
“That is not a reason.”
“It is when I do not know which officer may already know.”
I remembered every mafia movie.
“Corrupt police?”
“Some.”
“That answer should not be so casual.”
“It is not casual.”
His face told me he meant it.
I called Olivia again.
Voicemail.
Her cheerful recorded voice hurt.
“Liv, call me. Please.”
I ended.
Daniel watched the city through the window.
“Tell me about her.”
“Olivia?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because someone used her.”
I looked at him.
“That sounds accusatory.”
“It is not.”
“Then what?”
“I need to know whether she was tricked, paid, threatened, or involved.”
The categories were horrifying.
“She is my friend.”
“That does not remove any category.”
I hated that he was right.
“Eight years.”
“What?”
“We have been friends eight years.”
“How did you meet?”
“College.”
“Work now?”
“Event marketing.”
“Clients?”
“Restaurants. Clubs. Corporate parties.”
Daniel’s gaze sharpened.
“Which clubs?”
“I don’t know.”
“Try.”
“Daniel.”
“Emily.”
I crossed my arms.
“You sound like a detective.”
“I am asking questions because your friend disappeared twelve minutes after seeing you sit at my table.”
Fair.
I thought.
“She did a launch at Harbor Room last month.”
Thomas looked back from the front.
Daniel’s face changed.
“What?”
I looked between them.
“What is Harbor Room?”
“One of mine,” Daniel said.
Of course.
“Anything else?”
“Vela.”
Also a reaction.
“Yours?”
“No.”
“Then?”
“Owned by the Moretti family.”
My stomach dropped.
“Another mafia family?”
Daniel did not answer.
That was answer enough.
I rubbed my forehead.
“My social circle has become exhausting.”
Thomas said, “That is one word.”
Daniel gave him a look.
We reached the garage.
Olivia’s car sat on level three.
Driver’s door unlocked.
Handbag gone.
No visible damage.
I walked around it.
Daniel’s men checked everything before letting me near.
I hated that too.
Inside, the passenger seat held a Grand Oak cocktail napkin.
On it, written in pen:
TABLE 14.
“Your table?” I asked.
Daniel shook his head.
“We were at seventeen.”
I looked around.
“What is fourteen?”
Thomas checked his phone.
“At Grand Oak, table fourteen is near the private wine room.”
I remembered Olivia’s table.
“Was that where they were sitting?”
“No,” Daniel said.
“They were near the bar.”
I picked up the napkin.
Daniel stopped me.
“Gloves.”
I stared.
“This is my friend’s car.”
“It is also evidence.”
I put it down.
He photographed it.
Then I saw something under the seat.
A small white rectangle.
“Wait.”
Thomas retrieved it with gloves.
Business card.
ATLANTIC HARBOR LOGISTICS.
My stomach tightened.
On the back, one name.
JASON WHITMORE.
My ex.
I stared.
“No.”
Daniel looked at me.
“How old is that card?”
“I don’t know.”
Thomas examined it.
“Old logo. At least two years.”
I took a breath.
“Olivia knew Jason.”
“How well?”
“Through me.”
“That is not what I asked.”
I looked at him.
“She never liked him.”
“Why?”
“She said he was controlling.”
“Was he?”
“Yes.”
“Anything else?”
I did not want to say it.
Daniel noticed.
“What?”
“After we broke up, Olivia told me she always knew he was cheating.”
His expression changed.
“And she did not tell you?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“She said she did not want to interfere.”
Daniel’s jaw tightened.
I laughed bitterly.
“I know.”
“No,” he said.
“What?”
“I was going to say that explanation is weak.”
“It is.”
We checked garage cameras.
At 8:19, Olivia, Megan, and Claire entered the garage.
At 8:22, a white van stopped near Olivia’s car.
No plates visible.
A man stepped out.
Baseball cap.
Dark jacket.
Olivia walked toward him.
Not dragged.
Not surprised.
She knew him.
Megan hesitated.
Claire looked toward the exit.
Then all three entered the van.
The camera did not catch the driver.
Daniel replayed the footage.
“Olivia went willingly.”
I felt sick.
“Maybe she knew him.”
“Yes.”
“Maybe he lied.”
“Yes.”
“Maybe—”
“Emily.”
I stopped.
“We do not know yet.”
The words were almost kind.
I nodded.
Thomas zoomed in.
The man in the baseball cap turned slightly.
Enough for his profile.
Daniel went still.
“You know him.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“Peter Sloan.”
The name meant nothing.
“Works for who?”
Daniel’s eyes stayed on the screen.
“Used to work for me.”
“Used to?”
“I fired him.”
“Why?”
“He sold shipping schedules.”
My stomach tightened.
“To who?”
“The same people involved in Pier Nine.”
“Marcus Vale?”
“Possibly.”
“That word again.”
Daniel looked at me.
“Evidence.”
I sighed.
“Right.”
Thomas pulled another camera.
At 8:25, the van exited toward the waterfront.
Daniel started issuing instructions.
“Route cameras. Toll readers. Every warehouse south of—”
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
Everyone stopped.
Daniel looked at me.
“Speaker.”
I answered.
“Hello?”
For two seconds, nothing.
Then Olivia.
“Emily.”
My knees weakened.
“Liv?”
Daniel moved closer.
“Where are you?”
Olivia’s voice shook.
“I’m okay.”
“Where are you?”
“I can’t say.”
“Are Megan and Claire with you?”
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
Relief.
“Why did you leave?”
Silence.
Then:
“I’m sorry.”
My anger exploded.
“You sent me on a date with a mafia boss as a joke and then disappeared with a man connected to my ex-boyfriend. ‘Sorry’ is missing several chapters.”
Daniel looked almost impressed.
Olivia started crying.
“It was not supposed to be like this.”
“What was it supposed to be?”
“I was supposed to get you to Grand Oak.”
“Why?”
“They paid me.”
The words hit.
I stared at the phone.
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“Olivia.”
“I swear.”
Daniel’s voice entered.
“Who contacted you?”
Olivia went silent.
“Liv?”
She whispered, “Is he there?”
“Yes.”
“Oh God.”
Daniel stayed calm.
“Who contacted you?”
“A client.”
“Name?”
“Elliot Crane.”
Thomas immediately started typing.
Daniel’s eyes hardened.
“What company?”
“Northstar Events.”
Thomas shook his head.
“Shell.”
Olivia continued.
“He offered ten thousand dollars if I could get Emily to Grand Oak at seven-thirty.”
I felt sick.
“Ten thousand?”
“I thought it was a publicity prank.”
“A prank?”
“He said Daniel Brooks was meeting with someone who wanted to embarrass him.”
Daniel’s face became stone.
Olivia continued.
“He said Emily was safe. That nobody would touch her.”
I laughed bitterly.
“You believed that?”
“I needed the money.”
That hurt more than the amount.
“How much did you need?”
“Twenty thousand.”
“Why?”
Silence.
Then:
“My brother.”
I knew Olivia’s younger brother, Kyle.
Gambling problem.
Rehab once.
“What about him?”
“He owes people.”
Daniel’s expression changed.
“Who?”
Olivia whispered, “Moretti.”
There it was.
Another family.
Daniel asked, “How much?”
“Sixty.”
“Thousand?”
“Yes.”
“Why would ten help?”
“They said if I did this, the debt becomes forty.”
I stared.
“So you sold my blind date for twenty thousand dollars off your brother’s gambling debt?”
She cried harder.
“I thought you would sit for thirty minutes, laugh, leave, and hate me for a week.”
I felt physically cold.
“Where are you now?”
“I can’t—”
A male voice spoke in the background.
Time.
Olivia panicked.
“Emily, listen to me.”
“What?”
“The joke was never you.”
“I know.”
“No.”
Her voice dropped.
“They wanted Daniel to think you were connected to Jason.”
My heart stopped.
“Why?”
“Because Jason is alive.”
I stared.
“He is not dead.”
“I didn’t say dead.”
“No.”
Olivia’s breathing quickened.
“You think he moved to Seattle.”
“Yes.”
“He didn’t.”
“Where is he?”
Daniel watched me.
Olivia whispered:
“He works for Moretti.”
The line went dead.
I lowered the phone.
Everything inside me felt hollow.
Jason had told me he moved across the country after we broke up.
He had sent one final message from a Seattle number.
I never checked.
Why would I?
Daniel asked quietly, “Did he know you were coming tonight?”
I looked at him.
“I don’t know.”
Then another thought.
The laughing emojis.
Olivia had sent them.
But Jason once used three laughing emojis after every joke.
Always three.
I opened the original message.
Tonight. 7:30. Grand Oak. Blind date. Don’t cancel.
😂😂😂
I stared.
Daniel saw.
“What?”
I showed him.
“That is how Jason texts.”
May you like
The parking garage suddenly felt colder.
Maybe Olivia had not written the message at all.
