He locked the door, and that little sound made Maya’s blood seem to stop inside her veins.
“I’m not going to touch you,” Victor said, raising both hands. I didn’t call you today to ask you for anything. I called you because I found something worse.
Maya pressed the strap of her bag, ready to run, scream or break right there if he took a step further.
“If this is another deal, Mr. Sloan, I’d rather lose my job than listen to him again.
Victor looked down, and for the first time since she knew him, he looked more like a man than a statue.
“I don’t deserve to believe me,” he said. But his brother didn’t have any accident. My company was involved.
Maya took several seconds to understand the phrase. When he did, the ground seemed to bow under his worn-out shoes.
“What did he say?”
Victor took a tablet from his desk and left it in front of her, as if he were delivering a loaded gun.
A Sloan & Associates truck crossed in red. The internal report was altered before arriving at the police.
Maya looked at the screen. There was Daniel’s motorcycle, small, helpless, swallowed by the white lights of a black truck.
