“If you decide to turn the page, yes,” he answers, his tone matching mine. “I work directly for him, actually.”
“Oh,” I utter, slightly surprised. “I didn’t know that.”
“Mr. Van Dieren wanted to make sure you would be taken care of,” he explains, his voice very low and discreet, always looking in front. “The other agents work for the Van Den Bosch family though.”
I lower my voice even more, and whisper, close enough to his ear, “They are a horrible bunch.”
Winter snorts with laughter, but tries to stop himself just as fast. “They aren’t very empathetic, I must say.”
“What are his terms?” I ask out of curiosity.
We keep walking always ahead, but we have slowed our pace. “His only request is that you burn the original and any copy left of the police report.”
I knew it was something along those lines. “And if I do so, will he set me free?”
“Yes, I will drop you off at your house, and everything will belong to the past.” Winter makes it seem like cooperating with his criminal boss is a walk in the park. Yet, for me, this isn’t that easy, no.
“And I will be able to get my phone back?”
“Of course, but remember—you can’t talk about your stay here to anyone. Otherwise,” he glances behind his shoulder and then leans closer to me to say, “they will kill you.” I swallow the lump in my throat, knowing those guys wouldn’t hesitate to do so. “On all accounts, you have been traveling through Asia, between Thailand and Bali, visiting a few meditation retreats.”
Cooperating with Van Dieren feels all too easy to me. After everything that I did to him, would he really set me free if I just comply? Impossible! It must be a trap. Or is he testing my trust? For better or worse, I decide to test the waters. “Fine, tell him you can come with me to my house, and I will burn the police report in front of you.”
“This is excellent news,” Winter states, his expression always so gentle. “I will call him right after we get back inside, then.”
After our walk, we go back inside the house and Winter escorts me to my room. He asks me to wait inside while he goes out to talk to Alex. Though it feels gloomy to be back in the tiny cell of a room, I feel some relief in knowing I’ll be free soon enough. I sit on my bed and start reading a book in a failed attempt to keep my nerves under control, but I’m just too anxious to know the outcome of his conversation with that monster.
Thirty minutes later, the door cracks open and I see Winter emerging back inside, a phone in his hand. He walks toward me, then leans down, and says, “Mr. Van Dieren wants to talk to you.”
Oh gosh, here I am, having to speak to this criminal again. I heave a long sigh in displeasure before taking the phone and putting it against my ear. “Hello?”
“Tess, how are you doing?” He sounds overly excited and happy to have me on the phone. “Winter told me you have finally accepted our terms and would like to move on?”
“Yes,” I lie, just wanting to get the hell out of here.
“You know, you are doing the right thing. Petra will be so happy to know that.”
“What do I have to do?” I ask.
“Winter will drive you home so that you can delete the police reports,” he tells me. “Just don’t say a word about our agreement to the agents. They aren’t on our side.”
“I see,” I mumble.
“Do you want to come to New York and visit us?” he asks, his friendly tone getting on my nerves.
I ponder his question for a moment; if I get on a plane he booked for me, I won’t be able to escape him from the moment I leave this place to the moment I arrive in New York. Do I want to go to New York and see my daughter? Oh, yes! But I don’t want him to be tracking me down.
“I will when I feel better,” I answer, making up an excuse. “Right now I need to go back to my NGO. I have a lot of work to do.”
“I understand,” he says, sounding polite. “So, do we have a deal, Tess?”
“We do,” I answer dryly.
“Do you swear on your own daughter’s life you won’t break it?”
“Oh gosh,” the words roll out of my mouth. “What do you mean?”
“You don’t want to bring her any misfortune because you lied to me, right?”
“Of course not,” I snap. “What are you gonna do to her?”
“Me? I’d never do anything to hurt my wife,” he says right away, sounding nearly offended for me thinking so. The simple word wife makes me want to puke. What a disgraceful jerk! “But I hope you won’t break your oath and bring misfortune upon her.” Given the fact I’m not answering, he repeats the question once more. “So? Do you swear on Petra’s life you won’t break it?”
A gush of air burst from my lungs, the idea to swear on my daughter’s life terrifies me, and I consider his question for longer than I thought. “I do.”
After lunch, Winter comes in to take my empty plates, but then he walks closer to me, and quietly says, “I’ll leave the door unlocked, the security agents should fall asleep in a few minutes. I put a little something in their lunches,” he says, giving me a quick wink. “Meanwhile, I will get the car ready.”
I nod at him, and at this point, I realize Van Dieren is most likely going against his own family to set me free. He seems to be genuinely interested in building a bridge between us and turning the page.
Once Winter leaves, I notice he doesn’t lock the door, and I stand there, patiently waiting for him to come back.
After two minutes though, I’m just too impatient to wait any further, so I walk toward the door, twist the doorknob, and quietly crack the door open just enough to get a view of the hallway. There’s no one outside, so I open it even more until I can finally go out. The hallway is dark, but I hear voices, laughter and applause coming from a room somewhere not too far, but as I pay closer attention, it sounds like it’s coming from the TV. Nevertheless, I follow the sound and find myself standing in front of the kitchen, where the two security agents were having lunch and had fallen totally asleep in their chairs. My eyes zoom in on the semi-automatic laying on the table between plates and glasses, and for better or worse, I decide to quietly approach them and take the gun with me. I secure it under the waistband of my jeans and I promptly walk out of the kitchen, speeding up my pace to reach the front door of the house.
As I step outside, I find a small Fiat waiting for me, the engine up and running. Finally! I run down the stairs and hurry myself to slide into the passenger seat.
Winter greets me with a bright smile, like I’m his newest best friend. “Here we go,” he says, looking excited. We exit the property and after a few more seconds, we finally reach a national road. “Happy to get out?”
What a stupid question! How can he manage to be such a happy and bubbly human when he’s literally working for a criminal? At least the agents weren’t pretending to be nice. Why is he faking so much?
The road is in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but fields of snow and woods.
“We are going home, right?” I ask, always on my guard.