Chapter 3

For the first time in three months, I sleep alone on the couch. The sounds of the apartment seem foreign now. The quiet ticking of the kitchen clock is suddenly the loudest sound in the apartment. The grumble of the furnace pulls me in and out of sleep and my heart pounds when I hear the steps of our neighbors walking by our only door.

I check that our door is locked and chained and try to fall back asleep. In my dreams, we've already made up. I've crawled back into bed with him and instantly feel a sense of calmness. The noises seem softer lying next to him and I am finally able to get the rest I have so badly needed.

Instead, I wake to my shoulder being shaken back and forth.

"Get up!" a voice says. "Come on, get up."

I open my eyes and slowly the world comes into focus. Through the darkness, I can make out Phillip's soft dark hair, his unshaven face.

"Are you awake?" he says.

"What time is it?" I say.

"Get up. They want us at the site."

I turn onto my side and face the back of the couch, "You told them I wasn't feeling up for work."

He grabs my shoulder and rolls me back toward him, "You're fine. Get dressed."

I sit up and run my hands through my knotted hair, "It's two in the morning. Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

He hands me a small stack of solid black clothes, "The drug's is being stored in a small warehouse in upstate New York.

"So?" I say.

"And as of sixty minutes ago 2000 vials have gone missing. Get dressed."

"Don't speed, Phillip." I say.

He glares at me and shakes his head, "What? Too risky for you?"

I sit back in my seat and ignore the bait. I don't have the energy to fight with him right now. I lean my head up against the frosted window beside me as we drive.

I feel his hand tap against my shoulder, "We're almost there. Don't go back to sleep."

"I'm not."

"Sit like that and you'll be out in five minutes tops."

"Just drive." I say.

I force myself to ignore the storm brewing in the pit of my stomach as he drives. I shut my eyes and try not to pay attention to the endless bumps in the road, and the sharp turns he seems to be taking faster every time.

Out of the corner of my eye I can see Phillip looking back and forth between the road and me.

He gives a little sigh, "You're fine right?" he says impatiently.

I roll my eyes, "What do you care? Tomorrow it won't be your problem."

He pulls the car into a tiny alley-way and turns off the engine. "It is tomorrow. Guess we have another day together."

He reaches into the back seat and grabs two black bags. I stretch a dark face mask over my head and slip my gun into the inside of jacket. Phillip does the same.

Phillip guides us to a small fire escape on the side of an old brick building. The first part of the ladder hangs a good eight feet above the ground.

He kneels down and I step into his cradled hands. My own hands barely reach the old iron ladder. I lock my feet between the railings and reach down for my partner. I pull him to the edge and he climbs onto the landing. He points to a tiny window a floor above us.

Phillip works to slowly open the window and we crawl inside. He leads through the kitchen into a tiny back hallway. The door behind Phillip swings open and a man comes dashing through. He kicks Phillip in the stomach and Phillip doubles over, barely able to catch his breath. I back away slowly, hoping he was only aware of one unexpected visitor. Suddenly light fills the tiny hallway. My eyes squint to adjust and everything in front of me slowly comes into focus.

It's the guy I saw in Phillip's files. Dr. Wyle-the one who ordered the transfer, the only one who truly knows where the drugs were sent and for what purpose. But at this point in time, I can't think past the tiny black pistol in his hand that's aimed right at my husband.