Page 73 of Ruthless Riches
“Maybe later,” I said with a faint smile. “I should eat some more first.”
There was no way I’d ever accept a drink from her again.
As we ate our dinner, we discussed the police investigation into Alexis’s case and commiserated with each other about the lack of updates we’d received over the last couple of days. After twenty minutes had passed, I slumped lower in my seat and began to blink slowly, as if I were struggling to keep my eyes open.
“Are you all right?” Sascha asked. Her face was a picture of wide-eyed innocence.
“I don’t know.” I smothered a fake yawn and slumped even lower in my chair. “I’m just so fucking tired all of a sudden.”
She smiled sympathetically and patted my arm from across the table. “It’s because of everything that’s been going on lately. It’s exhausting.”
I put my head in my hands and yawned again. “Sorry,” I muttered. “I don’t know if I can stay awake for dessert.”
“That’s fine. We can have it tomorrow,” she replied smoothly. “Why don’t I take you to Lexie’s old room so you can sleep it off?”
I stared at her through bleary eyes and nodded. “Sure. Thanks,” I said, making my voice sound slightly slurred.
Sascha’s cheeks were slightly flushed now, and her eyes held a satisfied gleam. She genuinely thought everything was going according to plan.
I pretended to struggle when I rose to my feet, like I might stumble and fall at any second. Sascha looped an arm around my waist to help me. “It’s okay,” she said softly. “It’s not far.”
I let her escort me into the bedroom at the end of the hall. Then I collapsed onto the bed with a heavy sigh. “Goodnight, Sascha,” I muttered, making my voice slur even more.
“Night. Sleep well.”
She left the door open, presumably so she could see and hear me if I woke up before she expected. I lay on the bed and waited, trying my best to stay still and quiet.
About an hour and a half later, when Sascha was satisfied that I was completely passed out, she went into her bedroom and closed the door. I heard her rummaging around in her closet a moment later.
When her door opened again, I rolled over and opened one eye just a crack so I could look out into the hall. Sascha was tiptoeing down it, dressed in an all-black outfit. A black bag hung from one arm.
In the next minute, I heard the front door open and close with a soft click.
I got off the bed and stepped over to the window to peek through a crack in the curtains. Sascha exited the apartment building a moment later and briskly crossed the street, heading toward her designated parking bay.
Before she got in the car, she turned her head in every direction, presumably to ensure that no one was watching her. When she was satisfied that no one had spotted her, she slipped into the driver’s seat and took off down the street, heading north.
I turned away from the window, unlocked my cell phone, and clicked into a new app that I’d installed a few hours ago.
While I was at the mall earlier today, I’d picked up a sticky tracking bug from a tech store. It was tiny—about the size of a picture frame nail head—and it was able to track people or objects from any distance via the app, as long as they remained within range of a cell tower.
At one point during dinner earlier, Sascha excused herself from the table to use the bathroom, and I took the opportunity to stick the bug just below the pop-socket on the back of her phone. It was black—the same color as her phone—so it was almost impossible to see. The only way she’d ever notice it was there was if she suspected something and actively searched for it.
When I saw that the app was working perfectly, I breathed a short sigh of relief and headed for the door. According to the tracking map, Sascha had just turned onto a side street. She was heading northwest across the city.
I went downstairs, got in my car, and followed her at a safe distance. About ten minutes later, she stopped outside the old tram station on Eighth Avenue. Trams hadn’t run in Avalon City since the early 1980s, so the place only saw activity during the day when tourists went to check out the famous Gothic-style ticket building on the edge of the station. At this time of night, it was always quiet and empty.
I parked around the corner, turned my lights off, and waited in the dark. Sascha got out of her car and looked around again to make sure the street was totally empty. Then she hurried into the old tram station.
I got out of the car, pulled my hood up, and crept over to the edge of the station. Sascha was out of sight now, but I could still see the little red dot flashing on the map on my phone. I followed the dot until I was almost right on top of it. Then I ducked behind a thick limestone column and waited again.
Sascha had just slipped into a narrow side alley. I could see on the map that it led to a dead end, so the tunnel entrance she was heading toward had to be in there somewhere.
The dot suddenly disappeared from the tracking map. That didn’t mean Sascha had discovered the bug and disposed of it, though—it simply meant she’d slipped underground and out of range.
I waited a few minutes so she wouldn’t hear me catching up with her. Then I crept into the dim alley. It was so narrow that I could stretch out both arms and touch the brick walls on either side.
There was a door on my left with a sign above it that denoted it as the entrance to the men’s bathroom for the station. On my right was a door leading to the women’s bathroom.
