I leaned in, my curiosity piqued, my eyes locked onto Emily's. "How did you find out about Drew's family?" I asked, my tone gentle, inviting her to share more, to unravel the threads of deception.
Emily's gaze drifted, her eyes clouding over like a stormy sky. "It was an accident," she began, her voice slow, measured, as if reliving the moment. "We were on a job, a high-stakes heist. Drew received a call, thought I was busy, distracted by the operation."
She paused, collecting her thoughts.
"I overheard him talking to someone...his wife," Emily continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "He spoke about his kids, his family...a whole life I knew nothing about. I felt like I'd been punched in the gut, my world turned upside down."
Emily's expression twisted in pain, her face a map of heartache.
"I couldn't believe it," she said, her voice laced with emotion. "Drew, the man I trusted, the man I thought I knew. He'd been lying to me, manipulating me."
I nodded sympathetically, my expression a reflection of her pain.
"You confronted him," I stated, my tone soft.
Emily's eyes flashed with determination.
"I did," she said. "He tried to downplay it, said it was complicated, that he'd explain everything later. But I knew. I knew he'd been deceiving me."
Her voice cracked, the weight of her emotions threatening to overwhelm her.
"I asked him why," Emily continued, her words slow. "Why he kept it a secret. He said it was for my own protection, that the Kingpin wouldn't approve."
A bitter laugh escaped her lips.
"Protection," Emily repeated, her tone laced with sarcasm. "He used me, manipulated me, and lied to me. That's not protection; that's control."
I nodded thoughtfully, my mind racing with implications.
"Do you know where his family is now?" I asked, my tone cautious, aware of the potential danger.
Emily hesitated, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for answers.
"I don't know," she admitted finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "Drew was always careful, kept them hidden. But I remember bits of conversation...something about a small town, far from the city."
Her brow furrowed, concentration etched on her face.
"I think it was a place called Oakwood," Emily said, uncertainty etched on her face. "But I'm not sure."
I nodded thoughtfully, committing the name to memory.
"Oakwood," I repeated, my voice soft.
Emily's gaze locked onto mine, her eyes pleading.
"Please," she whispered. "You have to be careful. Drew will stop at nothing to protect his secrets. His family...they're innocent."
Her words sent a chill down my spine, a reminder of the stakes.
I leaned in, my curiosity still piqued, my mind racing with questions. "Emily, I have another question," I said, my tone thoughtful, inviting her to share more. "Why did the Kingpin hold his meeting with his lieutenants here, two nights ago? What made this location so significant?"
Emily's expression turned introspective, her eyes gazing into the past as if reliving the moment. "It's the settings," she began, her voice measured, each word carefully chosen. "The Kingpin's meeting venues are always changed, rotated among his employees' safe houses. He never uses the same location twice in a row."
Her words revealed a calculated strategy, a web of secrecy and deception.
"This rotation policy is a security measure, designed to prevent patterns and minimize risks," Emily explained, her tone laced with a hint of resignation. "It keeps everyone on edge, unsure of what's coming next. We're always looking over our shoulders, waiting for the other shoe to drop."
I nodded thoughtfully, my mind piecing together the puzzle.
"I see," I said, my voice soft. "And how does this rotation work? Who decides whose turn it is to host?"
Emily's gaze dropped, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Kingpin has a list, a roster of his lieutenants and their designated safe houses. We're assigned a turn, usually with minimal notice. It's a constant reminder of our loyalty, our duty to the organization."
The complexity of the Kingpin's operation began to unravel, revealing a sophisticated network of manipulation.
"Each of his lieutenants has a designated safe house," Emily continued, her words slow and deliberate. "We take turns hosting meetings, never knowing when or where the next one will be. It's a game of cat and mouse, where one misstep can be fatal."
I nodded thoughtfully, my eyes locked onto Emily's.
"That's why you were here, two nights ago," I said, my tone gentle. "You had no choice but to comply. The Kingpin's orders are absolute."
Emily's gaze met mine, determination burning within.
"Yes," she said firmly. "I had no choice...until now. I'm breaking free, taking control of my life."
Her words echoed with resignation, a hint of defiance.
Emily's curiosity finally got the better of her, her eyes narrowing slightly as she leaned in, her voice barely above a whisper. "How did you know about the meeting?" she asked, her tone laced with a mix of intrigue and caution, her gaze searching for any hidden motives.
I smiled wryly, knowing I had to tread carefully, balancing truth and deception. "Let's just say I have my ways," I began, choosing my words deliberately, crafting a narrative that would keep Emily engaged. "I've been keeping an eye on Frankie, one of the Kingpin's most trusted men."
Emily's expression turned skeptical, her eyebrows arching. "What made you focus on Frankie?" she pressed, her curiosity piqued.
"I had a hunch," I replied, my tone casual, masking the complexity of my investigation. "He's been rising through the ranks, and I suspected he might be more talkative than the others, especially in the right company."
Emily's eyes sparkled with interest, her gaze locked onto mine.
"I followed Frankie to a seedy motel on the outskirts," I continued, weaving a fabricated story, each detail carefully crafted. "He was enjoying a night with a prostitute, and liquor loosened his tongue. He thought he was in a safe space, surrounded by the city's darkness."
Emily's gaze intensified, her expression rapt.
"He revealed most of what I needed to know," I said, maintaining the charade, ensuring Emily remained convinced. "The meeting's location, the attendees, the agenda...Frankie spilled everything."
I paused, studying Emily's reactions.
"But Frankie got spooked," I continued, my voice dropping to a whisper. "He realized he'd said too much, that his loyalty was compromised. He tried to escape, only to end up in an accident."
I paused again, letting the tension build.
"A clash with another car," I said, shaking my head, feigning regret. "Frankie didn't make it. His secrets died with him, but not before they reached my ears."
Emily's expression turned somber, her eyes clouding over, her mind processing the information.
"I see," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
My fabricated story had achieved its purpose – Emily was now more likely to trust me, to share her own secrets.