Chapter 3 - The Man at Her Door
The police took the photograph.
They took Grace’s statement.
Vincent gave his.
By 2:00 a.m., Grace was exhausted.
“I’ll take you home,” Vincent said.
“I can call a cab.”
“You can.”
She stared at him.
“But?”
“But your ex photographed your apartment.”
Grace exhaled.
“Fine.”
During the drive, she finally asked, “What do you do?”
“Investments.”
“That sounded rehearsed.”
“It was accurate.”
“Legal investments?”
Vincent looked at her.
“Mostly.”
“Mostly?”
His driver coughed suspiciously.
Vincent ignored him.
Grace stared out the window.
“I should definitely have taken the cab.”
When they reached her building, Vincent got out.
“You don’t need to walk me upstairs.”
“Yes, I do.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Grace.”
“Vincent.”
They stared at each other.
His driver looked determined not to laugh.
Grace surrendered.
“Fine.”
They reached her apartment.
Grace stopped.
Her door was slightly open.
Vincent immediately moved in front of her.
“Stay behind me.”
“My cat is inside.”
“You have a cat?”
“Pepper.”
“Of course you do.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing.”
He pushed the door open.
The apartment had been searched.
Drawers open.
Cushions overturned.
Grace rushed inside.
“Pepper?”
A gray cat emerged from beneath the couch.
Grace scooped him up.
“Oh, thank God.”
Vincent surveyed the room.
Nothing obvious was missing.
Then Grace saw her kitchen table.
Her bakery notebook lay open.
The notebook contained years of recipes, sketches, budgets, and plans.
Across one page, someone had written:
YOU ALWAYS DID HAVE STUPID DREAMS.
Grace stared at it.
Vincent’s voice became very quiet.
“He knows about the bakery.”
“He knew when we were together.”
“What else does he know?”
“Everything.”
Her voice cracked despite her effort.
“Where I work. Where I lived before. My friends. My mother’s address.”
Vincent immediately took out his phone.
“Pack a bag.”
Grace turned.
“What?”
“You aren’t sleeping here.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Good instinct.”
“Excuse me?”
“You barely know me.”
“Exactly.”
“So call someone you trust.”
Grace hesitated.
Vincent understood.
“There isn’t anyone nearby.”
“My mother lives in Wisconsin. My closest friend moved to Denver.”
“Hotel.”
“Marco could find the reservation.”
“I own one.”
Grace stared at him.
“Of course you do.”
“Top floor. Private access.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Then another hotel under a different name.”
“You really have an answer for everything.”
“No.”
His gaze moved to the ruined notebook.
“Just this.”
Grace sat down.
Vincent remained standing.
After a moment, she asked, “Why are you doing this?”
“Because I heard him.”
“That isn’t enough.”
“It is for me.”
She studied him.
“People are scared of you.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Vincent was silent.
Grace waited.
Finally he said, “My family has been involved in things I’m not proud of.”
“That’s vague.”
“Intentionally.”
“Are you a criminal?”
Vincent looked directly at her.
“I have spent most of my adult life trying to turn what I inherited into legitimate businesses.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“No.”
Grace blinked.
“No, you’re not?”
“No, I’m not pretending my history is clean.”
Silence.
“But tonight,” Vincent continued, “I am simply the man who heard your ex threaten you.”
Grace looked at Pepper.
Then at her destroyed apartment.
“I’ll take the hotel.”
Vincent nodded.
“One night.”
“As many as you need.”
“One.”
“Fine.”
Grace pointed at him.
“And nobody threatens Marco.”
“Agreed.”
“No breaking legs.”
His eyebrow rose.
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“No mysterious disappearing.”
“Grace.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
He opened the door.
“We do this legally.”
Grace picked up her bag.
“Why do I feel like you don’t usually say that sentence?”
Vincent almost smiled.
May you like
“Because you’re perceptive.”
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