Chapter 5 - ALLIES IN THE DARK
The highway was nearly barren at three in the morning. Rain hammered against the windshield, the wipers slapping in a frantic, rhythmic beat. In the rearview mirror, the high beams of the black SUV hung behind me like two menacing yellow eyes, refusing to lose distance.
My mind raced. I couldn't drive indefinitely. They had a heavier vehicle, more fuel, and zero qualms about ramming me off the road if we hit an isolated stretch of highway. I needed help, but Alex’s warning rang in my ears: No local police. If Martha controlled the local precinct leadership, turning up at a suburban station with a stolen corporate drive would end with me in a cell and the drive erased.
I reached for the car’s dashboard console and hit the Bluetooth sync button to connect my phone. I dialed a number I knew by heart—a number I hadn't called in three years.
"Emily?"
The voice that answered on the third ring was sharp, alert, despite the hour.
"Sarah," I choked out, trying to keep my voice steady so Penny wouldn't panic in the back seat. "I need your help. I'm in deep trouble."
Sarah Lin was my former college roommate and a brilliant white-collar defense attorney working for a high-profile firm in downtown Chicago. She was tough, ruthless in a courtroom, and trusted no one—which made her the exact person I needed.
"Where are you?" Sarah asked instantly, no hesitation, no wasted words.
"I'm on I-90 East, ten miles outside the city limit. I’m being chased by a black SUV owned by my mother-in-law's security team."
There was a brief pause on the line, followed by the rustle of a bedsheet and the click of a desk lamp. "Martha Harrison-Vane?" Sarah asked. "What the hell did you touch, Emily?"
"Alex found corporate embezzlement at Harrison Financial. Millions. They framed him, and he’s been hiding in my house. I have the master hard drive with the encrypted server logs right here in my coat, and his mother’s thugs are trying to run me off the road."
"Okay. Breathe," Sarah commanded. "Listen to me very carefully. You cannot bring that drive to a precinct. Martha has political juice across Cook County. You need federal jurisdiction. I’m calling a friend of mine at the FBI’s Financial Crimes Division in the downtown field office. His name is Special Agent Vance."
"Will he take us in?" I asked, swerving sharply into the left lane as the black SUV behind me made a sudden aggressive surge toward my rear bumper.
"He will if I bring him a smoking gun," Sarah said. "I'm heading to my office at 200 South Wacker Drive right now. The parking garage has a secure keycard gate and underground access. Drive straight there. I’ll meet you at the basement gate."
"They're right behind me, Sarah!"
"Lose them in the industrial district off 18th Street," Sarah ordered. "It’s a maze of narrow alleyways and shipping docks. Use the turns. I'll see you in twenty minutes. Don't die, Emily."
The call disconnected.
I glanced back at Penny. She had pulled her knees to her chest, her arms wrapped around her stuffed rabbit, staring silently out the window.
"Hold on, sweetie," I said, my teeth set. "Mommy is going to make a fast turn."
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I slammed on the brakes as we approached the exit ramp for 18th Street. The tires shrieked against the wet asphalt, the car sliding sideways before the traction control caught hold and pulled us down the ramp into the dark, industrial warehouse district.
The black SUV overshot the exit, its tires screaming as it tried to brake on the slick highway, buying me thirty precious seconds of total darkness.
