Henry received a report that there was some suspicious activity at a hotel. The receptionist said a man matching Leo’s sketch had checked in the day before.
Henry and his team entered the room, finding it empty. The occupant was gone without checking out. It was likely the conman.
"Damn it, he got away," Henry cursed.
As they were about to leave and continue their search, Henry asked the hotel manager, "Did this room make any outgoing calls?"
"Calls need to be routed through the main switchboard. If the guest made calls, we can trace them."
"Check it out," Henry ordered.
It wasn’t long before they had results: two calls were made, one to a local Miami number and another to Boston, Massachusetts.
With the numbers, finding the person wouldn’t be hard.
The local Miami gang soon brought in an Englishman named Charles. Seeing Alan’s stern face and Henry’s cold gaze, Charles trembled with fear.
He silently cursed Victor for causing him trouble.
"You know why we’re here," Henry said coldly.
Charles, looking miserable, replied, "I know. It’s because of Victor."
"Who is Victor?" Henry asked.
"He’s the person you’re looking for," Charles said.
Alan became angry, "Damn it, you knew we were looking for him yesterday, why didn’t you say anything!"
Charles nearly fell to his knees, "Boss Alan, I didn’t want to lie to you. Victor and I have done business several times, we’re friends. I thought I could just keep quiet, but I didn’t expect you to come knocking."
"A few years ago, Victor found me, asking for help laundering money. He had a $10,000 check, and we became friends, doing business seven or eight times. I didn’t dare take his check this time, so I hung up on him."
Henry sneered, "If you take his check this time, I’ll personally plant you in the Miami coral reefs."
Charles shuddered, knowing these men meant every word.
After Charles left, Henry called the Boston number. A woman answered after a short while.
"Hello, who is this?"
"Is Mr. Victor home?"
"Ah, Victor isn’t here. He’s on a business trip, has been gone for a few months. Who’s calling?" the woman asked.
"I’m a friend, calling about business."
"He said he’d be back in a few days. He called yesterday, saying he would be back in two days."
"Alright, thank you."
Henry thanked Alan and immediately flew to Boston with his team. This time, Victor wouldn’t escape.
... ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ n̷o̷v̷e̷l̷f̷i̷r̷e̷.net
Victor got off the plane at Boston Airport and went to the city’s large shopping mall. He bought a few gifts for Tracy, carefully selecting items that couldn’t be found in Boston, pretending they were chosen from out of town.
He even bought a box of Barbie dolls, planning to give them to his soon to be born daughter. He actually liked the idea of having a daughter.
However, the set of dolls was quite expensive, costing him over $20. The HD company really knew how to make money, but the dolls were indeed beautiful.
Taking a taxi home, Victor rang the doorbell.
"Who is it?" A woman’s voice came from inside.
Victor seemed a bit excited.
The door opened, and Tracy was delighted to see her man back. "Victor, you’re back so soon! I thought you would take a few more days."
Victor gave Tracy a hug and carefully touched her prominently swollen belly.
This was the continuation of his life.
"Tracy, I bought gifts for you." Victor took the gifts out of his bag, and Tracy was very happy.
She also liked the Barbie dolls a lot. "A few days ago, I saw Barbie dolls at the mall. They are very popular now, but they were too expensive, so I didn’t buy them. I didn’t expect you to bring them back."
"You must be tired. Take a rest, and I’ll cook for you."
Back home, Victor relaxed, took off his suit, put on slippers, and sat on the sofa, reading the newspaper.
The woman was cooking in the kitchen.
This was the life he wanted.
He had made up his mind; after this, he wouldn’t go out to work for a while and would spend quality time with his wife. He had saved enough money for several years of living expenses.
At this moment, the phone in the living room rang. Victor picked it up and said, "This is the Victor residence."
"Is this Mr. Victor?" a man’s voice came from the phone.
The voice was unfamiliar.
"Who are you?" Victor asked in surprise.
"My name is Henry, and I am from Los Angeles. I think you know what this is about," Henry said in a low voice.
Los Angeles! Victor felt a chill down his spine and shuddered in fear.
He knew the thing he dreaded most had happened.
The caller knew his name and had found his home phone number, indicating that they had thoroughly investigated his situation.
"We are right outside your house. You can try to run, but I believe you don’t have the ability to escape from me. If you try, think about Tracy and the child in her belly."
Victor’s hand holding the receiver trembled violently.
He believed the caller would do unimaginable and terrible things to his family.
Victor immediately pleaded:
"No, no, I won’t run. Please don’t hurt Tracy and the baby. They have nothing to do with what I did."
"You have three minutes to come out with the check," Henry said.
"Okay, okay, I’m coming out. I promise I won’t run." Hearing that the caller would spare his wife and child, Victor kept thanking him.
This time was extremely precious to him now.
Victor hurried to the bedroom, opened the closet’s panel, revealing a small space where he kept a metal box. He opened the box, which contained two stacks of cash, a bankbook, and a house deed.
He took out the last $200 he had left and put it in the box. Victor quickly went to the kitchen, standing in front of Tracy.
Tracy was stunned to see her husband holding a box of money, "What’s going on, Victor? Where did you get so much money?"
Victor forced a smile, "Tracy, this money is what I earned over the years. There is over $400,000 in cash here, and $20,000 in the bankbook, along with the deed to this house. It’s all for you."
"I have a very important thing to do, and I might be away for a long time. This is for you to live on."
After saying this, Victor looked at Tracy’s belly and touched it. He felt the baby move inside, and his lips quivered.