MY FAMILY LOCKED MY SISTER IN A FREEZER — BUT THEY DIDN’T KNOW WHAT SHE HID IN HER COAT 109a

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I didn't make it to my car.

Danny caught me in the parking lot. His fist connected with my jaw before I even heard him coming. I went down hard, my head cracking against the asphalt. The flash drive slipped from my fingers.

"No—"

He was on me in seconds. Danny had always been bigger, but he'd never been faster. Now he moved like he'd been waiting his whole life for this.

"Where is it?" His breath was hot on my face. Beer and garlic. "Where's the drive?"

I kneed him in the gut.

He grunted but didn't let go. His hands found my throat. "You always were a pain in the ass, Marcus. Always thinking you were better than us."

I clawed at his hands. Black spots danced in my vision.

Then—headlights. A car swung into the parking lot. Brakes screeched.

"Hey!" A woman's voice. "Get off him!"

Danny hesitated. That was all I needed. I twisted, threw him off balance, and scrambled to my feet.

The flash drive. Where was it?

There. By the dumpster. I dove for it.

Danny grabbed my ankle. I kicked. He yelled.

The car door opened. A woman—uniform. Cops.

"What the hell is going on here?"

Danny let go. Put his hands up. His face transformed—from rage to innocent confusion in half a second.

"Officer, thank God. My cousin's having a mental breakdown. He attacked my sister, broke into our family's restaurant—"

"He's lying!" I was on my feet, flash drive back in my fist. "They locked my sister in a freezer. She's inside. She needs medical attention."

The officer looked between us. Young. Maybe thirty. Hand on her holster.

"Everyone stay where you are. Backup's on the way."

Danny's eyes flickered to the restaurant. To the flash drive.

"She's lying," he said. "Karen's always been dramatic. She locked herself in there. We were trying to get her out."

"Bullshit!"

"Sir, calm down."

"Look at my hands!" I held them up. They were shaking. "Look at my throat! He was choking me!"

The officer's radio crackled. She spoke into it, low and fast. Then she turned to me.

"Sir, I need you to come with me. We'll sort this out."

"The flash drive—"

"Sir."

I looked at Danny. He was smiling. Actually smiling.

"She's dead," he mouthed.

No.

I ran.

Past the cop, past Danny, past the dumpster. Through the alley behind the restaurant. I knew this neighborhood. Grew up here. I knew every fire escape, every back door, every shortcut.

Behind me, the officer yelled. Danny yelled. But I was faster. I'd always been faster.

I hit the fence at the end of the alley, climbed it, dropped into the next street over. A bus was pulling away from the stop. I ran, caught the back bumper, swung myself up.

The driver didn't notice.

I lay on the roof of the bus, gasping, as it pulled away. The flash drive was still in my hand. Still mine.

I held it up. A cheap thing—black plastic, no label. But it felt like the most valuable object in the world.

Dad was murdered.

Karen knew.

And now I had the proof.

But I also had a problem. The police were looking for me. My family was looking for me. And Karen was still in that restaurant, still in danger.

I pulled out my phone. Dialed a number I hadn't called in years.

"Hello?"

"Sophie. It's Marcus."

Silence. Then: "Where are you?"

"Is Karen okay?"