How a Devastated Mother Reclaimed Her Family Legacy from a Cheating Husband
“Claire, I’m watching the security feed from the lobby desk,” he said.
“Where are they now?” I asked.
“They just got into the elevator to the underground parking level,” Daniel said.
“Samantha has three designer suitcases, and Preston is carrying his leather briefcase.”
My boots slipped slightly on a patch of gray ice as I hurried toward the curb.
“We only have until two-thirty before the bank releases the wires,” I said.
“They must think the money is already gone,” Daniel replied.
“I need to know where they are heading, Daniel.”
“Hold on,” he said.
I heard the rapid clicking of a computer keyboard on his end of the line.
“Our concierge desk just assisted Preston with a priority courier delivery ten minutes ago,” Daniel said.
“What did he send?” I asked.
“It wasn’t a delivery,” Daniel corrected himself. “He used our business center to print international travel documents.”
A yellow taxi screeched to a halt in front of me, its tires splashing dirty slush onto the pavement.
I opened the door and climbed into the back seat, giving the driver the address of my attorney’s office.