My senior business partner told the board he was boarding an eleven-hour flight to Zurich for an emergency investment summit.
The biting winter air was a shock after the hospital’s warmth. I hailed a cab just outside the ER entrance, my heart still thumping against my ribs. The driver, thankfully, didn’t ask questions about my hospital gown or my frantic demeanor. I directed him to a small, nondescript motel on the outskirts of the city, far from any familiar landmarks.
Inside the motel room, the cheap curtains and floral bedspread felt like a haven. I changed into the spare clothes I found in my confiscated bag, left by Bennett in my old hospital room, and for the first time in days, I felt a semblance of safety. I charged the burner phone.
It vibrated almost immediately. An unknown number. My hand hovered over the screen. Was it Callahan? Another trap?
The internal debate lasted only a second. I answered.
“Emily Cross?” a woman’s voice asked, low and cautious. “My name is Sarah Lindqvist. Detective Bennett gave me your number. He said you might need to talk.”
Sarah Lindqvist. The name sparked recognition. She was Jason’s former co-founder, the one Bennett had mentioned in passing during a conversation about Jason’s past.
“Yes,” I managed, my voice hoarse. “What can I do for you?”
“I know what you’re going through, Emily,” Sarah said, her voice laced with a deep, weary sadness. “Or, at least, I think I do. My brother… he died in 2018. Under similar circumstances.”
My hand tightened around the phone. “Similar how?”
“He held a controlling patent at Jason’s first startup,” Sarah explained, her voice trembling slightly. “It was a small biotech firm, very much like yours, focused on a niche medical breakthrough. My brother, David, was the brilliant mind behind it.”
“He was found dead in a locked laboratory,” she continued, each word a slow, painful memory. “They ruled it an accidental power outage. A faulty generator, they said. Hypothermia. But I always knew it was more than that.”
My mind reeled. A controlling patent. A locked facility. An accidental power outage. It was chillingly identical to my own experience. Jason as the sole patent holder afterward.
“Jason was the sole beneficiary of his key-person insurance policy,” Sarah added, as if reading my thoughts. “Five million dollars. Just like yours.”
A wave of nausea washed over me. This wasn’t a coincidence. This was a pattern. A terrifying, deadly pattern.
“I kept quiet for years,” Sarah confessed, her voice thick with guilt. “Jason threatened me, my family. Said he’d ruin us. I saw what he did to David, and I was terrified. But when I heard about your case… I couldn’t stay silent anymore.”
“You have proof?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. “Anything that shows what Jason did?”
There was a pause, a hesitant breath on the other end of the line. “I have something,” Sarah finally said. “Something I found after David’s death, hidden in his old files. A letter. From Jason.”
“It details everything,” she added, her voice gaining a surprising strength. “His whole twisted strategy.”
My heart pounded. A letter. From Jason. This could be the evidence I desperately needed, something solid enough to cut through the layers of lies and corruption.
“Where are you?” I asked, my voice urgent. “Can we meet? Now?”
“Tomorrow morning,” Sarah replied, her voice firm. “A secluded diner outside the city. I’ll send you the address. But Emily, be careful. If Jason knows I’m talking to you, we’re both in even greater danger.”
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