Chapter 2 - The Flash in the Dark
The flash of the camera hit the pavement like a gunshot.
I instinctively pulled Nora tighter against my side, shielding her face. My heart slammed against my ribs, a sudden, frantic rhythm that tasted like copper in the back of my throat. I expected Declan Shaw to shout, to lunge, to do whatever men of his reputation did when someone dared to track them.
He didn’t move. He didn’t even blink.
Instead, he took one step forward, placing his body entirely between the lens of that white car and my daughter. The sheer size of him blotted out the streetlights.
"Don't look at them," Declan said. His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried a terrifyingly calm authority. "Keep your eyes on my coat. Walk to the black SUV on the corner."
"I have my own car," I stammered, my grip on Nora’s small, sleeping shoulder tightening.
"Your car is a four-door sedan parked on a poorly lit avenue, and you have a child in your arms and an open case file that has just made you a target," he replied, not looking back at me. His eyes were locked on the white vehicle. "You are getting in the SUV."
A man in a dark suit stepped out of the shadows near the corner, pulling open the heavy armored door of a Mercedes G-Wagon. I didn't argue. The mother-instinct in me, the one that usually fought back against arrogant men, recognized the absolute truth in his posture: he wasn't controlling me. He was creating a wall around us.
I ushered a sleepy Nora into the backseat. As I buckled her in, I looked through the tinted glass. Declan was walking slowly across the street. He didn't run. He moved with the terrifying, deliberate grace of a predator who already knew the prey was trapped.
The white car’s tires screeched as the driver threw it into reverse, desperate to escape. But before they could clear the intersection, another black car smoothly cut off the street, blocking them entirely.
Declan reached the driver’s side window. He didn't pull a weapon. He didn't raise a fist. He simply tapped on the glass with one knuckle.
Even from inside the safety of the SUV, a shiver ran down my spine. The driver of the white car rolled down the window, visibly trembling. Declan leaned in, spoke a single sentence I couldn't hear, and reached inside. He pulled out the memory card from the camera, snapped it in half with one hand, and tossed it onto the driver's lap.
Then he turned and walked back to us.
When he slid into the seat beside me, the air shifted. He smelled like expensive scotch, crisp autumn air, and something dangerously electric.
"Address," he told his driver. He turned to me. "Where do you live?"
"Brooklyn. Park Slope," I whispered. "Who were they? Were they following you?"
Declan looked at me, his eyes dark and unreadable in the dim light of the cabin. "No. They were following you."
The breath left my lungs. "Me? I’m a social worker. Nobody follows social workers."
"They do when a social worker refuses to close the file on a seven-year-old boy named Marcus, whose current foster placement happens to be the brother-in-law of a very prominent state judge," Declan said quietly.
I stared at him, the pieces violently clicking into place. The ignored emails. The supervisors telling me to drop it. The sudden "loss" of Marcus’s medical records. It wasn’t incompetence. It was protection.
"How do you know that?" I asked, my voice trembling. "How do you know about Judge Halpern?"
Declan looked down at Nora, who had fallen completely asleep, her head resting on my lap, her little hand clutching her turtle backpack. For a fraction of a second, the coldness in his eyes melted into something violently protective.
"Because a week ago, Halpern reached out to me," Declan said softly. "He asked for a favor. He wanted me to quietly ruin the career of a stubborn social worker who kept digging into his family's business. He gave me your name."
My blood ran cold. "And the blind date?"
"There was no blind date. The man you were supposed to meet was never going to show up. I took his reservation." Declan leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low, rough murmur. "I came tonight to see who you were. I intended to warn you to walk away from Marcus for your own safety."
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"And now?" I breathed.
"Now," he said, looking at the crayon drawing of the horse Nora had left on the seat between us, "I’m going to help you burn Judge Halpern to the ground."
