Chapter 4 - The Intruder's Key
Neither of them breathed. The apartment was on the third floor of an old brownstone, and visitors had to be buzzed in through the ground-level foyer. Whoever was outside the door hadn’t rung the bell; they had bypassed the downstairs latch entirely.
Elena snatched a heavy iron chef’s knife from the wooden block on the counter. ""Did you give her a key?"" she mouthed, her eyes blazing with pure adrenaline.
Cole shook his head violently. He crept forward toward the hallway, his posture lowering into a defensive crouch. The deadbolt gave a distinct, metallic click. The brass handle dipped downward, and the door pushed inward three inches before catching against the interior security chain.
Through the crack, a pair of sharp, heavily kohled eyes stared straight into the dim hallway. It was Vanessa. Her hair was damp from the rain, clinging to the high collar of a trench coat.
""Ten minutes are up, Cole,"" Vanessa said through the opening, her voice calm and chillingly conversational. ""Unlatch the chain. We wouldn't want the neighbors hearing the details of how your late father-in-law really washed seven million dollars, would we?""
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""Get out of here, Vanessa!"" Cole hissed, bracing his body against the doorframe. ""Take the threats elsewhere. I’m calling the precinct.""
Vanessa didn't flinch. Instead, she slipped a slender gloved hand through the gap, holding a small silver recorder. She pressed a button. From the tiny speaker came the sound of Elena’s younger brother, crying out in a muffled room: “Elena? Elena, please help me—”
