Chapter Twelve
Sarah
Inever cared for grocery shopping before I became a mom. It was just another chore that needed to be done, and I wasn’t much of a cook anyway.
But motherhood had a way of changing a woman’s perspective on things in unexpected ways. I forced myself to get better at cooking when I was pregnant, determined to eat well and have a healthy pregnancy. I also wanted to make sure I could provide good meals for my child when she was old enough to eat.
Becoming better at preparing food meant I started to enjoy shopping for it. I liked coming up with new ideas for meals based on what looked fresh in the produce section or what kind of meat was on sale.
It was the closest thing I had to ‘me time’. My mom was usually home with Alexis while I shopped, and I got a little time to myself. That kind of thing was rare for a single parent.
I walked through the store with earbuds in, playing music from a playlist of pop-rock songs from the early 2000s. It was the music I grew up listening to, and even at thirty years old, I still loved music from Blink-182, Fall Out Boy, and The All-American Rejects.
I even hummed along as I picked my way through avocados, feeling the softness of each one and trying to decide which would be best to use to make Alexis avocado toast in the morning.
I found one I liked and turned to place it in my cart, only to freeze when I caught sight of a man standing near a displayof apples. There was something familiar about him, and I took a moment to stare at him in his dark jeans and black leather jacket. He was a large man, tall and well-built. I didn’t know him; I was sure about that. But I felt a niggling in the back of my mind that told me I’d at least seenhim somewhere before.
He wasn’t trying to choose the best thing to purchase, like I was. Instead, his attention was on his phone. He didn’t have a cart or a basket. There were no groceries in his hands.
Something didn’t feel right about him, and that was when I realized where I’d seen him. He was at the courthouse earlier today. He was one of the two men sitting on the defendant’s side of the courtroom, the ones I saw talking to each other during the district attorney’s opening statement.
He wasn’t looking at me, but unease slithered down my spine. The man didn’t seem to be looking at me, but I couldn’t help thinking it was too much of a coincidence that he was here and didn’t appear to be actually shopping.
I was planning to get a few more things, but the need to leave the store suddenly felt urgent. Pushing my cart toward the self-checkout registers, I hurried through the process as much as I could while continuously glancing around. I didn’t see the big man again, but I couldn’t escape the feeling that I was being watched.
The parking lot was dark, and I would never think twice about that on any other day, but right now, every shadow felt ominous. My steps were quick as I hurried across the asphalt. My car was a small sedan parked on the edge of the lot, the light overhead blocked out by a line of decorative trees.
I used my key fob to pop the trunk as I got close and put the grocery bags inside. I kept looking back over my shoulder,but there was no one else around, and definitely no big guy coming my way.
By the time I snapped the trunk shut, I’d almost convinced myself that I was just being paranoid. Maybe that man wasn’t even from the courtroom like I thought. It had been a hell of a stressful day, so it wouldn’t be entirely surprising if my mind was playing tricks on me.
I came around the driver’s side of my car with my keys in my hand, squeezing between my vehicle and the white van parked a little too close beside me.
I was so relieved to be getting into the perceived safety of my car that I didn’t even register the side door of the van sliding open. I wasn’t aware that danger was near until a strong hand gripped my shoulder and spun me around until my back was pressed against the van. I whimpered in fear when I saw the two men standing in front of me in black ski masks.
“Wh-who are you?” I asked, my legs weak and my voice uneven. “What are you—”
“Shut up, bitch,” one of men said, his arm pressed to my throat. He wasn’t cutting off my air, but the silent threat was there. He couldstrangle me easily. “You’re gonna listen to what we say without a word, or I’ll hurt you.”
More than the way I was being physically restrained, the hard look in his eyes through the holes in his ski mask told me he meant it. He had no problem with hurting me.
“On Monday, you’re going to testify that you saw your boss murdered and that Dmitri Gorsky did it,” the other man said.
“What? I can’t do that!”
“You’ll do it if you know what’s good for you,” he said.
“Unless you want us make youandyour daughter pay,” the man holding me in place added. “Alexis looks real cute in that yellow jacket your mom puts her in.”
I was so shocked by this turn of events that I didn’t even try to fight back before now, but those words ignited a fire inside me. I shoved at the man’s chest, and I must have taken him by surprise because he stumbled back a step.
I took the opportunity to slip under his arm and dive for my car door, but the other guy moved into place in front of me. He snarled as he pulled out a switchblade, opening it up as he grabbed my arm. The blade was pressed against my cheek, not hard enough to break my skin, but enough to make me go rigid in terror.
“Don’t be stupid,” he snapped. “Do what we say, and you’ll be fine. Test us, and we’ll do the same thing to you that we did to your boss.”
Oh my God.These were the men who killed Mr. Moss. It wasn’t Dmitri at all.
“I’ll do it,” I said in a rush. “I promise. I’ll say whatever you want. I’ll tell the jury I saw Dmitri do it.”