PART 4
Bring Natalie’s insurance file to the abandoned warehouse, or Jessica dies before sunrise.
I read the message twice.
Then a third time.
The words remained unchanged, but the meaning seemed to grow heavier every time my eyes passed over them.
Detective Ross took the phone from my hand.
“Do not respond.”
“She’s going to kill Jessica.”
“We don’t know who sent this.”
“The photograph shows Vanessa.”
“It shows Vanessa sitting beside her. That does not prove she sent the message.”
Sarah stared at the image.
Jessica’s wrists were bound in front of her with something black. Plastic ties, perhaps. Her face was pale, and there was a dark mark near her temple.
Behind the vehicle windows, I could make out corrugated metal walls.
The warehouse.
Detective Ross enlarged the photograph.
“There,” she said.
She pointed toward the reflection in the glass.
A second figure stood outside the vehicle.
Only part of the person’s body was visible—a dark jacket, one gloved hand and the edge of a phone held near the window.
Vanessa was not alone.
Detective Ross called the units already heading toward Jessica’s apartment.
“Possible abduction confirmed. Redirect available teams toward Atlantic Storage Partners. Approach without lights or sirens.”
Then she looked at me.
“Who else knew about the insurance file?”
“Vanessa. My husband. Jessica. Everyone in this room.”
Sarah shook her head.
“No one outside the investigation.”
“The brokerage office may know it was accessed,” Detective Ross said. “And whoever helped create those policies could know what the file contains.”
“What does it contain that they want so badly?”
She opened the folder again.
“We may have missed something.”
We spread Natalie’s documents across the interview-room table.
Policy application.
Beneficiary forms.
Claims correspondence.
Accident report.
Payment confirmation.
Photographs of the damaged vehicle.
Most of the pages were copies sent electronically from the insurance company.
But one item was original.
A thin gray folder with Natalie’s name typed on a label.
Detective Ross ran her fingers along the inside cover.
Something crackled beneath the lining.
She stopped.
Using a small knife, she carefully lifted a loose edge of cardboard.
A folded sheet of paper had been hidden inside.
The paper was yellowed and creased.
Across the top, in blue ink, someone had written:
To be opened if anything happens to me.
My heart began pounding.
Detective Ross unfolded it.
The letter was dated eleven days before Natalie’s death.
She read silently at first.
Then her face changed.
“What does it say?” I asked.
She hesitated.
“Read it aloud.”
Detective Ross placed the letter flat on the table.
My name is Natalie Hale.
If this letter is found, I need it known that my husband has taken out an insurance policy on me without my permission.
His sister Vanessa helped him.
They believe I do not know.
For the last month, my husband has been asking questions about the brakes on my car. Twice, I found the hood open after he claimed he had not touched it.
Vanessa told me I was paranoid.
Yesterday, I overheard them arguing. Vanessa said, “You promised there would be no investigation this time.”
I do not know what “this time” means.
I have made copies of their emails and placed them somewhere neither of them knows about.
If I die, do not believe it was an accident.
The letter ended without a signature.
Perhaps Natalie had been interrupted.
Perhaps she had been too frightened to finish.
Sarah whispered, “She knew.”
Detective Ross turned the paper over.
There was one final line on the back.
Ask Daniel Reed what happened to his wife.
I looked up.
“Who is Daniel Reed?”
Detective Ross was already typing the name into her computer.
The search produced several results.
One photograph showed a man in his late fifties wearing a dark suit.
I recognized him.
Not from my marriage.
From the party.
He had stood near the window most of the evening, holding one drink and speaking to almost nobody.
When the argument began, he had slipped out before the police arrived.
“He was in my apartment,” I said.
Sarah leaned closer to the screen.
“That’s the man who told me he worked with your husband years ago.”
“He introduced himself as Dan.”
Detective Ross continued searching.
“Daniel Reed was an insurance-claims investigator.”
“Was?”
“He left the industry nine years ago.”
“Why?”
She read for several seconds.
“He was accused of suppressing evidence in multiple accidental-death claims. No criminal charges were filed, but he surrendered his license.”
“What happened to his wife?”
Detective Ross opened another record.
“Her death was ruled accidental.”
I felt the answer before she said it.
“Car accident?”
“No.”
She looked at me.
“She fell from a second-story balcony.”
Sarah stood and began pacing.
“How many dead wives are connected to these people?”
Detective Ross picked up her radio.
“Add Daniel Reed to the alert. Possible accomplice. Male, late fifties, six feet, gray hair. Consider dangerous.”
I stared at Natalie’s letter.
The sentence Vanessa had supposedly spoken would not leave my mind.
You promised there would be no investigation this time.
Perhaps my husband had not learned the scheme from his sister.
Perhaps both of them had learned it from Daniel.
Or perhaps Daniel had been helping people profit from “accidents” for years.
My phone vibrated again.
Detective Ross placed it on the table and read the message.
You have twenty minutes.
A location pin appeared below it.
The abandoned warehouse.
Then came another photograph.
Jessica was no longer inside the vehicle.
She was tied to a metal chair beneath a hanging light.
Vanessa stood behind her with one hand resting on Jessica’s shoulder.
In the other hand, she held a pistol.
Sarah turned away.
“I’m going,” I said.
“No,” Detective Ross replied.
“They want me.”
“They want the file.”
“They believe I have it.”
“That gives us an advantage.”
She looked toward the observation window.
Two detectives entered the room. One carried a bulletproof vest. The other held a small black case.
Detective Ross began issuing instructions.
“We make a copy of the file. The original stays here. We place a tracker and listening device inside the folder. Units surround the warehouse but remain out of sight until Jessica is clear.”
Sarah grabbed my arm.
“She cannot go in there.”
“I agree,” Detective Ross said.
“Then who carries the file?”
“One of our officers will pose as her.”
The second message arrived before she finished speaking.
No police. No substitutions. We will know.
A short video followed.
The camera moved across the warehouse floor and stopped on a row of monitors.
One screen showed the entrance to the police station.
Another showed the street behind it.
A third showed Sarah’s car.
They were watching us.
Detective Ross cursed under her breath.
“Someone has access to city cameras,” one of the other detectives said.
“Or they placed their own cameras outside.”
The video shifted.
Daniel Reed appeared in front of the lens.
He smiled as though he were recording a business presentation.
“Good morning,” he said. “I imagine the police are advising you not to cooperate.”
His voice was calm.
Educated.
Almost gentle.
“That would be unfortunate for Jessica.”
The camera turned toward her.
She was conscious now.
A strip of tape covered her mouth.
Vanessa stood beside her, but she no longer looked confident.
She looked terrified.
Daniel continued.
“The file contains a letter that does not belong to you. Bring it to the warehouse alone.”
So he knew about the hidden letter.
“Once I confirm it is genuine, Jessica will be released.”
The camera turned back toward him.
“If police enter the building, the woman dies. If you fail to arrive within twenty minutes, the woman dies. If you attempt to bring a copy, both women die.”
Both women.
Vanessa was not standing beside Jessica as a partner.
She was another hostage.
The video ended.
Detective Ross immediately replayed it.
“Look at Vanessa’s left hand.”
Her wrist was secured by a thin chain running behind the chair.
The pistol in her right hand was real, but Daniel controlled how far she could move.
“He made it look like she was in charge,” I said.
“That may have been intentional.”
“Why would she help kidnap Jessica?”
“She may have participated and then lost control. Or she may have been forced from the beginning.”
I looked at Natalie’s letter.
Vanessa had forged documents.
She had helped tamper with my van.
She had protected her brother after Natalie’s death.
Whatever Daniel was doing now did not erase what she had done.
But it changed the warehouse.
There were not one but two people inside who might die.
“I’m going,” I repeated.
Detective Ross stared at me.
“You could be walking into an execution.”
“If I don’t go, Jessica may die anyway.”
“Daniel Reed has likely planned for police involvement.”
“Then we do something he hasn’t planned for.”
“What?”
“We give him what he wants.”
Sarah shook her head.
“The original letter?”
“No.”
I picked up Natalie’s letter.
“We give him something more valuable.”
Detective Ross understood before Sarah did.
“Your cooperation.”
“He believes I’m frightened and alone. He believes I’ll follow instructions because that is what women like Natalie and I were trained to do.”
“You are frightened.”
“Yes.”
I folded the letter.
“But I am not alone.”
Detective Ross looked at the clock.
We had fourteen minutes.
There was no time for a perfect plan.
Only a survivable one.
They placed the original letter inside a clear protective sleeve and returned it to the gray file.
A tracker was inserted beneath the folder lining.
The listening device went inside my blouse.
A tactical vest fit beneath Sarah’s oversized coat, which I wore over my clothes.
Detective Ross gave me one instruction repeatedly.
“Do not argue with him. Do not threaten him. Do not attempt to free anyone unless we tell you the team is moving.”
“How will I know?”
She touched the small receiver hidden in my ear.
“I’ll say, ‘The party is over.’”
The phrase almost made me laugh.
My housewarming party had ended only hours earlier.
Yet it felt like it belonged to another lifetime.
Detective Ross gripped my shoulders.
“Your goal is to keep him talking. Nothing more.”
“What if he asks whether the file is original?”
“Tell the truth.”
“What if he asks whether police are nearby?”
“Tell him you do not know.”
“But I do.”
“You will not know their positions.”
She opened the door.
“Technically true.”
We left through an underground parking exit in an unmarked car.
The warehouse was less than fifteen minutes away.
The city looked strange before sunrise.
Empty intersections.
Closed stores.
Streetlights reflected on wet pavement.
People slept in apartments above us, unaware that four lives were moving toward an abandoned building near the river.
Detective Ross drove.
Another detective sat in the passenger seat.
I sat alone in the back, holding Natalie’s file against my chest.
My phone rang.
Daniel Reed.
Detective Ross nodded for me to answer.
“Hello?”
“You are late.”
“I’m coming.”
“Are police with you?”
“I left the station.”
“That was not my question.”
“I do not know where the police are.”
He laughed softly.
“You learned quickly.”
“Let me speak to Jessica.”
“No.”
“Then I turn around.”
Detective Ross glanced at me in the mirror.
I hoped she understood what I was doing.
Daniel became quiet.
“You are not in a position to negotiate.”
“I have the letter.”
“Which means you are in possession of evidence connected to a dead woman. That creates legal problems for you too.”
“No, it creates problems for you.”
His tone changed.
Only slightly.
But the gentle performance weakened.
“Your husband said you were stubborn.”
“My husband said many things.”
“He also said you were predictable.”
“Then why are you nervous?”
The line went silent.
Detective Ross’s eyes remained on the road.
Finally, Daniel said, “When you arrive, leave the car at the gate. Walk through the main door with the file held above your head.”
“Jessica leaves before I hand it over.”
“You do not set the terms.”
“Then you can explain to the police why you killed the only person who could bring you the letter.”
He exhaled.
For the first time, I heard anger beneath his voice.
“Your husband underestimated you.”
“So did you.”
The call ended.
Detective Ross looked at me.
“I told you not to provoke him.”
“I kept him talking.”
“You also challenged his control.”
“He needs control. That means he will want to prove he still has it.”
“That makes him more dangerous.”
“It also makes him predictable.”
We stopped two blocks from the warehouse.
I left the car alone.
At least, that was what Daniel needed to believe.
Officers were hidden in vacant buildings, behind shipping containers and along the river access road.
A tactical team approached from the rear through an old loading corridor.
The warehouse gate stood open.
Beyond it, the building rose like a dark wall against the early-morning sky.
I held the gray file above my head and walked.
Each step sounded too loud.
My shoes struck broken concrete.
Wind moved through gaps in the metal siding.
The main entrance was unlocked.
I pushed it open.
Inside, the air smelled of oil, rust and river water.
A single trail of lights led through the building.
The rest remained in darkness.
“Keep walking,” Daniel’s voice said through a loudspeaker.
I followed the lights.
At the center of the warehouse, Jessica remained tied to the chair.
Vanessa stood behind her.
The chain around Vanessa’s wrist was attached to a steel support beam.
Her gun was pointed toward Jessica’s head.
Daniel stood fifteen feet away holding a small remote control.
A red light blinked on the device.
He was dressed in the same dark suit he had worn at my party.
“Place the folder on the floor,” he said.
“I want to see Jessica’s face.”
“She is directly in front of you.”
“Remove the tape.”
Vanessa looked toward Daniel.
He nodded.
With trembling fingers, she pulled the tape from Jessica’s mouth.
Jessica gasped.
“Don’t give it to him,” she said immediately.
Vanessa pressed the pistol closer to her head.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Daniel looked annoyed.
“Silence.”
I placed the folder on the floor but kept my hand on it.
“You said you would release her.”
“After I inspect the contents.”
“How do I know the remote isn’t connected to a bomb?”
His eyebrows lifted.
“Because if it were, you would already be dead.”
“That is not comforting.”
“It was not intended to be.”
I looked at Vanessa.
There was blood on one side of her face.
“You helped him kill Natalie.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I didn’t know he was going to kill her.”
Daniel smiled.
“Vanessa has always struggled with responsibility.”
“You forged the policy.”
“Yes.”
“You helped tamper with my van.”
She looked down.
“Yes.”
“You knew my husband planned to send me to the warehouse.”
“I knew he wanted to frighten you into leaving.”
“You were beneath my van with him.”
“He said he was disabling it so you couldn’t go to work.”
“The brake line was cut.”
Her head snapped toward Daniel.
“No.”
Daniel tilted his head.
“She truly didn’t know that part.”
Vanessa stared at him.
“You told me he was loosening the battery connection.”
“And you believed me because believing me was easier.”
She began shaking.
“You said nobody else would die.”
Daniel laughed.
“People like you always say that after helping.”
I looked at him.
“What did Vanessa mean when she said there would be no investigation this time?”
His eyes narrowed.
“You read Natalie’s letter.”
“She named you.”
“She did.”
“What happened to your wife?”
Something changed in his face.
Not grief.
Pride.
“She made an unfortunate choice.”
“She fell from a balcony.”
“She threatened to expose a private business arrangement.”
“Insurance fraud?”
“Insurance solutions.”
“You helped husbands profit from dead wives.”
“I helped clients prepare for financial transitions.”
Jessica stared at him in horror.
Daniel continued as though explaining a respectable profession.
“Most accidental-death claims are processed quickly. Overworked investigators see weather, mechanical failure, medication, stress. They do not see intention unless someone forces them to look.”
“Natalie forced you to look.”
“She became suspicious.”
“So you killed her.”
“My hands never touched her vehicle.”
He looked toward Vanessa.
Vanessa’s face collapsed.
“No.”
Daniel smiled.
“Tell her.”
Vanessa shook her head violently.
“I didn’t know.”
“Tell her how you delivered the car keys to your brother.”
“You said you were going to check the brakes.”
“Tell her how you erased the email Natalie sent to your office.”
Vanessa began crying.
“I was protecting my brother.”
“Tell her how much he paid you after the claim.”
Jessica whispered, “Oh, God.”
Vanessa looked at me.
“Fifty thousand dollars.”
My stomach turned.
She had helped her brother collect six hundred thousand dollars from Natalie’s death and accepted a share.
“You knew enough,” I said.
“I told myself she really had an accident.”
“You forged her signature before she died.”
“I was in debt.”
Daniel laughed again.
“There it is. Debt. The most common excuse for evil.”
Vanessa turned the pistol toward him.
The chain stopped her arm before she could aim properly.
Daniel pressed a button on the remote.
A sharp electrical sound cracked through the warehouse.
Vanessa screamed and dropped to her knees.
The chain around her wrist was connected to some kind of shock device.
The pistol fell but remained within reach.
Jessica tried to move her chair away.
Daniel stepped forward and kicked the weapon out of Vanessa’s reach.
“Do not confuse confession with courage,” he said.
I forced myself not to react.
Detective Ross had told me to keep him talking.
“What do you want with the letter?” I asked.
“Natalie made copies.”
“Where?”
“If I knew, we would not be here.”
“The letter says she hid emails.”
“She hid more than emails. She kept records of clients, policies and payments.”
“And you believe the location is in this file?”
“I believe the original letter contains a code.”
I looked down at the folder.
“There is no code.”
“Bring it to me.”
“Release Jessica.”
He lifted the remote.
“Bring it to me.”
I picked up the file and walked forward.
Ten feet.
Eight.
Six.
The receiver in my ear remained silent.
Daniel held out his hand.
I stopped beyond his reach.
“Why Jessica?”
“She became inconvenient.”
“My husband took out a policy on her.”
“He took out several.”
Jessica’s eyes widened.
“What do you mean, several?”
Daniel looked at her almost kindly.
“Your apartment lease was only one part of his plan. Once his wife died, you would have become the grieving companion. Later, after a suitable period, another accident would have occurred.”
Jessica began crying.
“You told him to do that?”
“I advised him not to leave loose ends.”
I looked at Vanessa.
“And she became one too.”
Daniel nodded.
“Vanessa panicked when the police found the second policy. She contacted me and asked me to help her disappear.”
“You kidnapped her instead.”
“I asked her to bring Jessica.”
Vanessa lifted her head.
“He said he could get us both out of the country.”
“Instead, he chained you to a post.”
Daniel’s smile faded.
“She attempted to keep the original policy file for herself.”
“Because it proves you killed Natalie,” Vanessa said.
“It proves nothing.”
“It has your initials on the claim review.”
His expression sharpened.
“Give me the folder.”
I held it tighter.
“What happens after you burn it?”
“You leave.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No.”
The honesty of the answer frightened me more than any threat.
He never planned to let us walk away.
I looked past him.
A large metal barrel stood near the loading door. Flames flickered inside it.
He intended to burn the file.
Then the warehouse.
Perhaps all of us with it.
“Where is my husband?” I asked.
“In custody.”
“You worked with him for years. Why abandon him?”
“Your husband became careless.”
“He mentioned the insurance policy in a text.”
“Yes.”
“He kept forged documents in our apartment.”
“Yes.”
“He invited thirty witnesses to watch his marriage collapse.”
Daniel’s mouth twisted.
“He believed humiliation would make you predictable. He wanted you emotional, irrational and publicly unstable.”
“He failed.”
“Completely.”
“Then why did you continue helping him?”
“Because he knew enough to damage me.”
“About Natalie?”
“About all of them.”
The words hung in the air.
“All of whom?”
Daniel looked toward the darkness beyond the lights.
“Your husband was not my first client.”
“How many?”
“Enough.”
“How many women died?”
Vanessa whispered, “Seven.”
Daniel turned toward her.
She had found the courage to look at him now.
“I saw the ledger,” she said. “Seven names. Natalie was number four.”
Jessica sobbed.
I thought about the gray folder in my hands.
Perhaps Natalie’s hidden evidence could expose every death.
Daniel extended his hand again.
“The file.”
I took another step.
He reached for it.
Then Detective Ross’s voice finally came through the receiver.
“The party is over.”
I released the folder and dropped to the ground.
The warehouse exploded with noise.
Glass shattered above us.
Officers entered from three directions.
“Police! Drop the remote!”
Daniel grabbed the folder with one hand and seized Jessica’s chair with the other.
Vanessa lunged toward the pistol.
An officer fired.
The bullet struck the concrete near her hand.
“Don’t touch it!”
Daniel dragged Jessica backward.
He pressed the remote.
Nothing happened.
He pressed it again.
Still nothing.
The tactical team had disabled the signal.
His calm expression disappeared.
He pulled a second weapon from inside his jacket.
I crawled behind a steel support beam.
Gunfire cracked through the warehouse.
Jessica’s chair tipped sideways.
Daniel fired toward the officers and ran for the loading door carrying the gray file.
Vanessa threw herself over Jessica.
Detective Ross reached me.
“Are you hit?”
“No.”
“Stay down.”
Daniel reached the burning barrel.
He opened the folder.
The tracker beneath the lining blinked.
He saw it.
His face twisted.
“You lied!”
He threw the folder into the flames.
Detective Ross fired.
The shot struck his shoulder and spun him sideways.
He fell behind the barrel.
Officers rushed toward him.
For several seconds, I could see only smoke and moving shadows.
Then someone shouted, “Weapon secured!”
Another voice called for medical assistance.
I crawled toward Jessica.
Vanessa was trying to tear the plastic ties from her wrists with her teeth.
“I’m sorry,” she kept saying. “I’m sorry.”
Jessica pulled away from her.
“Don’t touch me.”
I used a piece of broken metal to cut the ties.
Jessica collapsed against me.
Her whole body shook.
“He was going to kill us.”
“I know.”
Vanessa remained on the floor, her chained wrist bleeding.
An officer handcuffed her free hand.
She did not resist.
Daniel lay near the barrel with officers surrounding him.
He was alive.
The bullet had passed through the upper part of his shoulder.
The original file burned inside the barrel.
But Natalie’s letter did not.
Detective Ross had replaced it before we left the station.
The page inside the folder was a copy.
Daniel had destroyed nothing that could not be printed again.
Paramedics carried Jessica outside.
Vanessa walked behind her in handcuffs.
As she passed me, she stopped.
“There is something you need to know.”
An officer tried to move her forward.
“Please,” she said. “It’s about her husband.”
I looked at Detective Ross.
She nodded once.
Vanessa lowered her voice.
“My brother knew Daniel was planning to kill Jessica.”
“Of course he knew.”
“No. You don’t understand.”
Her eyes filled with fear.
“He contacted me from the police station.”
“That is impossible. His phone was taken.”
“He knew the number of the holding-room telephone.”
“What did he say?”
“He told me to cooperate with Daniel and bring Jessica to the warehouse.”
“Why?”
“He said Daniel would kill both of us, destroy Natalie’s file and take responsibility for everything.”
My stomach tightened.
“He wanted Daniel blamed for the van and insurance policies.”
“Yes.”
“But Daniel had evidence against him.”
“That is why my brother wanted him dead too.”
I looked toward Daniel.
He was being lifted onto a stretcher.
“Was I supposed to die here?”
Vanessa began crying.
“All of us were.”
The officer pulled her forward.
“Keep moving.”
I turned toward Detective Ross.
“My husband arranged this from custody.”
“We need to verify her statement.”
“Can you call the station?”
She was already reaching for her radio.
The reply came almost immediately.
Her expression changed.
“What?” I asked.
She did not answer.
“Detective.”
She stepped away and spoke quietly into the radio.
Then she looked at me.
“Your husband complained of chest pain shortly after midnight.”
“And?”
“He was transported to a hospital under guard.”
A cold feeling spread through my body.
“Where is he now?”
“There was an incident during the transfer.”
“What kind of incident?”
“The ambulance was struck by another vehicle near the expressway.”
Sarah arrived beside me.
She had been kept at the outer perimeter and had run inside as soon as officers cleared the building.
“Is he hurt?” she asked.
Detective Ross shook her head.
“The ambulance driver was found unconscious. One officer suffered a head injury.”
“And my husband?”
“Gone.”
The sun was beginning to rise beyond the warehouse windows.
Orange light spread across the river.
I should have felt relief because Jessica was alive.
Daniel was captured.
Vanessa was in custody.
Instead, I felt the same danger I had felt when I first saw the missing key to my van.
My husband had escaped.
He had money hidden somewhere.
He knew where Sarah lived.
He knew where I worked.
He knew the passwords I had changed and the habits I had not.
Detective Ross placed officers around us.
“We are moving you both to a secure location.”
My phone vibrated.
Everyone froze.
The device was still inside an evidence sleeve.
Detective Ross lifted it carefully.
The message came from my husband’s number.
There was no text.
Only a live video.
The camera moved slowly through my apartment.
Past the decorations still hanging from the housewarming party.
Past the overturned glasses.
Past the banner I had torn from the wall.
Then it entered the bedroom.
My document box lay open on the bed.
The hidden camera had been removed from the wall.
A gloved hand placed something on my pillow.
My grandmother’s necklace.
The one piece of jewelry I had left behind because I believed it was locked safely away.
Then my husband’s voice came through the video.
“You were very mature last night.”
The camera turned.
For half a second, I saw his reflection in the bedroom mirror.
He was smiling.
“But you forgot something important.”
The video moved toward the closet.
The door opened.
Inside sat a large red suitcase I had never seen before.
My husband unzipped it.
Stacks of cash filled one side.
Passports filled the other.
Not one passport.
Seven.
Each belonged to a different woman.
Natalie’s photograph was inside the first.
Jessica’s was inside the second.
My photograph was inside the third.
The remaining four showed women I did not recognize.
All seven passports carried false names.
My husband lifted mine toward the camera.
“You thought Daniel was the one choosing the victims.”
He paused.
Then he smiled again.
“Daniel only handled the paperwork.”
The video ended.
A final message appeared beneath it.
I chose the wives.
And before Detective Ross could trace the signal, another message arrived.
It contained an address.
Sarah looked over my shoulder.
Her face lost all color.
“That’s my parents’ house.”
Below the address, my husband had written six words.
Come alone, or they become eight…………………….
LAST PART…
TO BE CONTINUED IN LAST PART…
