Chapter 3 - THE HOUSE WITHOUT WINDOWS|
The Reeve safe house stood behind a stone wall in Westchester, hidden among bare trees and a private road that appeared on no public map. It was not a mansion. Dominic’s real home was famous for its glass walls, priceless art, and sweeping views of the Hudson. This building had reinforced doors, narrow corridors, and windows too small for a person to climb through.
Lena understood the message immediately.
This was where Dominic brought people when he wanted them protected.
Or contained.
A woman named Dr. Evelyn Shaw examined the cut on Lena’s forehead, checked her pupils, and declared her fit to answer questions. Lena refused painkillers. She needed her mind clear.
Dominic waited in a room furnished with a table, four chairs, and a wall of security monitors.
Aldwell entered carrying a laptop.
“The dining room cameras caught the shooter’s approach,” he said. “He used a delivery entrance. His face was covered, but he knew the blind spots.”
“Inside help?” Dominic asked.
“Almost certainly.”
“Find out who accessed the camera system.”
Aldwell nodded and left.
Dominic turned toward Lena.
“Tell me everything about the ledger.”
“It isn’t one ledger. It’s a map of transactions, shell companies, and coded references. My father used a system he developed to track legitimate shipping payments. Someone altered it after his death.”
“Can you prove that?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Lena opened the thin folder she had carried into the dining room. Inside were copies of bank transfers, company registrations, handwritten notes, and pages of calculations.
“My father taught me accounting before he taught me algebra. He said money always leaves a footprint. People can lie about what they did, but they rarely understand what their numbers reveal.”
Dominic examined the papers.
“Why did you wait eight years?”
“Because I was fourteen. I had no money, no family, and no idea which police officer had been paid to close the investigation. The first time I went to a lawyer, somebody broke into my apartment.”
“You should have come to me.”
Lena laughed without humor.
“You were the man my father worked for. Your family’s name appeared on the paperwork. Why would I trust you?”
“Because I didn't order his death.”
“That’s a statement. Not proof.”
Dominic accepted the challenge without visible offense.
“What would count as proof?”
“Give me access to the original shipping records from the month he died. Unaltered copies, not a summary prepared by your staff.”
“That information is sensitive.”
“So is murder.”
He studied her for a long moment.
Then he picked up his phone.
“Get her the records.”
Lena had expected resistance. The immediate agreement unsettled her more than an argument would have.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because if you’re right, somebody has been using my name to justify killing innocent people. And if you’re wrong, I want to know why you spent seven months inside my restaurant.”
Before she could answer, a security monitor flickered.
One camera showed the front gate. A black sedan had stopped outside. Its headlights remained on despite the empty road.
Aldwell returned, moving quickly.
“We have a problem.”
The sedan’s driver stepped out and placed a white envelope on the ground. Then he walked away, leaving the car behind.
No weapon. No visible accomplice.
The envelope contained a single sheet of paper.
Dominic read it first.
His expression changed.
Lena took the page from his hand.
It showed a photograph of a little girl, perhaps six years old, sitting beside a hospital window. Her dark hair was tied with a blue ribbon.
On the back, somebody had written:
THE GIRL SURVIVED TOO.
Lena felt the room tilt.
She knew the child’s face.
She had seen it in her own childhood photographs, in the memories she had tried to bury, in the dream that returned every time rain struck a window.
“Who is she?” Dominic asked.
Lena pressed the photograph flat against the table.
“My brother’s daughter.”
Dominic stared at her.
“You said your brother died unmarried.”
“He did.”
“Then how—”
“Because the family was told there was no child.”
Her hands began to shake.
“My brother was nineteen when he died. He had a girlfriend. Her name was Sophie. She disappeared before the funeral.”
Dominic reached for the photograph.
“Do you know where she is?”
“No.”
Lena looked at the little girl again.
“But I know what the note means.”
She raised her eyes.
“They didn’t just kill my father and brother. They took the child, erased her identity, and made sure nobody would ever look for her.”
Aldwell’s phone vibrated.
He glanced at the screen, then quickly turned it facedown.
Lena noticed.
So did Dominic.
“Who was that?” Dominic asked.
“Nobody important.”
Dominic’s gaze hardened.
“Show me.”
Aldwell hesitated.
It lasted less than a second, but Lena saw it.
And suddenly she understood why the shooter had known exactly where to find them.
May you like
The enemy had not followed the car.
The enemy had been waiting inside the house.
