Chapter 7
“No.”
I said it before the video ended.
Marcus looked at me.
“We’re not bringing Noah.”
“We’re not bringing anything they want.”
Helen leaned back.
“They have your daughter.”
“I know.”
Every part of me wanted to grab the flash drive, run to Richard’s estate and throw the evidence at his feet.
But then what?
Richard would have Sophie.
The evidence.
Noah.
And no reason to keep any of us alive.
“We need copies.”
Helen almost looked offended.
“I made three before you finished listening to the first audio file.”
Marcus smiled faintly.
“That’s why I came to you.”
She handed me one drive.
“Original data is now encrypted and uploaded to multiple timed-release locations.”
“What does that mean?”
“If I don’t cancel the release by midnight, everything goes to federal investigators, several newsrooms and two attorneys.”
Hope sparked.
“Can Richard stop it?”
“Not unless he can resurrect my husband and guess the password he used to call me forty years ago.”
I almost laughed.
Almost.
Marcus examined the property map.
“We still need Sophie physically out.”
“I’m going through the tunnel.”
“No.”
“Marcus.”
“You’re a bank employee, not tactical police.”
“And you’re a security guard.”
“Former detective.”
“Who was pushed out by corrupt police.”
He couldn’t argue with that.
Helen said, “You need someone inside.”
I looked at the video again.
Daniel’s mother.
Margaret.
She was inside.
And despite the blood on her lip, she had looked furious.
Not terrified.
I called her.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Then I texted three words.
BLUE CHRISTMAS ORNAMENT.
It was a family code.
Years ago, Sophie got lost for five minutes at a Christmas market.
Afterward, Daniel and I taught family members phrases to use in emergencies.
Blue Christmas ornament meant:
Do not respond. I am coming.
Seconds later, a message appeared from Margaret.
One punctuation mark.
?
She had her phone.
I typed:
BASEMENT?
A minute passed.
Then:
YES.
I looked at Marcus.
“We have someone inside.”
He frowned.
“Can she move freely?”
I texted:
CAN YOU REACH SOPHIE?
Margaret replied:
NO. SECOND FLOOR. TWO MEN.
“Two guards.”
Marcus studied the floor plan.
“Tunnel enters basement storage. Main staircase here. Service stairs here.”
Helen pointed.
“If cameras are tied to modern security, I can possibly interfere from outside.”
“Possibly?”
“I’m seventy-eight percent confident.”
“That specific?”
“I don’t make comforting guesses.”
My phone rang.
Daniel.
“I have Noah.”
Relief rushed through me.
“Is he okay?”
“He hates me.”
“Good. That means he’s okay.”
In the background Noah shouted, “I do hate you!”
Despite everything, I nearly cried with relief.
“Daniel, listen.”
“I’m listening.”
“Do not bring him to Riverside.”
“I know.”
“Take him somewhere no one knows.”
A small voice sounded.
“No.”
“Noah?”
Daniel put him on speaker.
“My mom said I have to help Sarah.”
“You already helped me.”
“No.”
He sounded stubborn.
“There’s another thing.”
“What?”
“My necklace.”
Daniel said, “He’s wearing a little metal key.”
My heart jumped.
“What does it open?”
Noah sniffed.
“Mom’s box.”
“Where is the box?”
“Red door.”
Marcus heard.
“The warehouse.”
Noah continued.
“Mom said if bad people find us, the box tells the truth.”
I looked at Marcus.
More evidence.
Maybe proof of Michael’s murder.
Maybe proof of Richard’s network.
But we didn’t have time.
“Daniel, take Noah to Helen.”
He knew Helen from years ago.
Marcus gave him the address.
“Then stay there.”
Daniel hesitated.
“I should be with you.”
“You should have been honest with me nine years ago.”
Silence.
I immediately felt the pain behind my words.
But I didn’t take them back.
“Get Noah somewhere safe.”
“Okay.”
He ended the call.
We drove toward Riverside.
Helen stayed behind to coordinate.
Marcus borrowed an old pickup from her neighbor.
We parked almost a mile from the estate near a river trail.
The property looked beautiful from a distance.
Huge stone house.
Tall trees.
Private lawn.
A place where rich people drank champagne at charity auctions.
Now my daughter was being held there.
Marcus opened a backpack.
Flashlight.
Rope.
Gloves.
No weapons.
“I wish I had more.”
“I don’t want a gun.”
“You may change your mind.”
“No.”
We moved along the riverbank.
The tunnel entrance was hidden behind vegetation and a rusted metal grate.
Marcus forced it open.
Cold air hit us.
“You can still stay here.”
I crawled inside.
“That answer your question?”
We moved through darkness.
Water dripped from the ceiling.
My phone showed thirty-two minutes remaining.
Richard would be expecting us at the front gate.
He wouldn’t expect us underground.
At least I hoped not.
The tunnel ended behind a wooden panel.
Marcus pushed.
It opened into a basement wine cellar.
We entered quietly.
My phone vibrated.
Margaret.
SERVICE STAIRS CLEAR.
I texted back.
KEEP THEM BUSY.
A moment later, an alarm sounded upstairs.
Not a security alarm.
A smoke detector.
Marcus smiled.
“Your mother-in-law?”
“She once set her own oven on fire twice in one Thanksgiving.”
We climbed the service stairs.
Voices shouted on the main floor.
Someone yelled about smoke in the kitchen.
We reached the second floor.
Two doors.
Three.
Then I heard Sophie crying.
I stopped.
Marcus pointed toward a man at the far end of the hallway.
Guard.
He hadn’t seen us.
Marcus whispered, “Stay.”
He moved quietly behind the man.
A quick struggle.
Marcus pinned him and took his radio.
No dramatic fight.
No gunfire.
Just fast, controlled movement.
I ran to Sophie’s door.
Locked.
“Mom?”
“Sophie!”
“Mommy!”
I almost broke.
Marcus searched the guard and found keys.
The second key worked.
Sophie ran into me.
I dropped to my knees and held her.
Her arms wrapped around my neck.
“I knew you’d come.”
I cried into her hair.
“I’m sorry.”
“Grandma hit a man with a lamp.”
I pulled back.
“What?”
“She said he had an ugly face.”
Even Marcus looked impressed.
“We need to go.”
We started toward the service stairs.
Then a voice came through the guard’s radio.
“Second floor, status.”
Vance.
Marcus didn’t answer.
“Second floor?”
Static.
Then footsteps thundered below.
“They know.”
We ran.
At the service stairs, a man appeared below us.
Marcus shoved the door shut.
“Other way!”
We sprinted down the hall.
Sophie held my hand.
A shot hit the wall behind us.
She screamed.
Marcus pulled us into a bedroom.
“Window.”
Two stories down.
Too far.
But below the window was a sloped porch roof.
Marcus opened it.
“Sophie first.”
I climbed out with her.
We slid onto the porch roof.
Behind us, the bedroom door burst open.
Marcus followed.
A man grabbed his jacket.
Marcus twisted free.
We moved toward the edge.
A ladder suddenly appeared from below.
Margaret.
“Move!”
She had dragged a groundskeeper’s ladder to us.
I almost laughed.
We climbed.
Sophie first.
Me.
Marcus last.
We hit the lawn and ran toward the trees.
Then floodlights snapped on.
Richard stood twenty yards away.
Vance beside him.
Three armed men spread across the lawn.
Margaret stopped beside me.
“Well,” she said breathlessly, “this is inconvenient.”
Richard raised a hand.
“Enough.”
Marcus moved in front of us.
Vance drew his gun.
“Don’t be stupid, Dawson.”
Marcus stared at his former boss.
“I was stupid once.”
Richard looked at me.
“Where is Noah?”
“Safe.”
“Where is the drive?”
“Safe.”
He smiled.
“You’re not in a position to negotiate.”
I looked at Sophie.
Then at Margaret.
Then at Marcus.
Maybe not.
But I had one thing Richard didn’t know.
Helen’s dead-man release.
“You have twenty minutes before everything Emily collected goes public.”
Richard’s smile vanished.
Vance looked at him.
“What is she talking about?”
“Insurance.”
“You’re bluffing.”
“Midnight release.”
Vance cursed.
Richard remained still.
Then he smiled again.
“Sarah, you were always a terrible liar.”
A new voice came from behind him.
“I wasn’t.”
Everyone turned.
Emily stepped from the house.
May you like
Alive.
And she was holding a gun aimed at Richard.
