Chapter 9 - THE DAUGHTER IN THE LOCKED ROOM|
The summer house was surrounded by trees, cameras, and enough security personnel to discourage a small army.
Marco watched the property from a ridge overlooking the lake.
Through a second-floor window, he could see a little girl sitting beside a bookshelf.
Lily.
She was wearing the same blue dress she had arrived in, and she appeared to be drawing on a sheet of paper.
Marco wanted to rush inside.
Victor stopped him.
"Four guards at the front. Two at the rear. More inside."
"I don't care."
"I do. If they see you coming, they'll use her as a shield."
Marco forced himself to remain still.
Isabella stood beside him, binoculars pressed to her eyes.
"There's a service entrance near the kitchen," she whispered. "I used it when I was young."
"How do you know it still exists?"
"Because Eleanor never changes anything she believes she owns."
They moved through the trees and reached a narrow basement entrance. The lock was old, and Victor opened it in seconds.
Inside, the house smelled of cedar and dust.
A television played in an empty sitting room. A guard stood near the stairs, distracted by his phone. Victor quietly disarmed him while Marco and Isabella moved toward the second floor.
They found Lily in a locked bedroom.
She saw Marco through the glass panel and ran to the door.
He knelt as soon as Victor opened it.
Lily threw herself into his arms.
For several seconds, Marco could not speak.
"I'm here," he whispered. "I've got you."
Lily gripped his jacket with both hands.
Then she pulled away and began drawing rapidly on the paper beside the bed.
A woman.
A man.
A small girl.
And a fourth figure standing behind them.
She circled the fourth figure and wrote a name.
GRANDPA.
Marco stared at the page.
"Your grandfather?"
Lily nodded.
"Is he here?"
She pointed toward the floor.
Victor examined the room and discovered a loose panel beneath the bookshelf. A narrow staircase descended into darkness.
Marco drew his weapon.
"Stay with Isabella."
But Lily caught his hand.
She shook her head violently, then pointed to the staircase again.
Marco understood.
She wanted him to see something.
They descended together.
At the bottom was a room containing a bed, a medical cabinet, and a collection of old photographs. A man sat in a chair facing the wall.
His hair was silver. His shoulders were narrow, and one hand rested on a walking stick.
He turned when Marco entered.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then the man smiled sadly.
"You've grown into your father's face."
Marco's weapon nearly slipped from his hand.
"Father?"
Richard Duca had supposedly died twelve years earlier. Marco had attended the funeral. He had watched the casket lowered into the ground.
Now the man sat alive in a locked room.
"How?" Marco demanded.
Richard raised a trembling hand.
"The accident was arranged. I survived, but Eleanor decided I was more useful dead."
"Why didn't you come home?"
"Because I was afraid of what she'd do to you."
Marco's voice rose.
"She took my wife. She took my daughter. She destroyed my life."
Richard closed his eyes.
"I know."
"Then why are you hiding?"
"Because I helped her."
The confession landed like a blow.
Richard admitted that he had approved the original financial scheme, believing Eleanor would only use the hidden accounts to protect the family's businesses. When he discovered the clinic fire was planned, he tried to stop her.
She arranged the boating accident instead.
"Who brought Lily here?" Marco asked.
Richard looked at the girl.
"Her grandmother."
"Where is Eleanor?"
Richard's face grew pale.
"She left an hour ago."
"Where?"
He pointed toward the photographs.
One showed a modern courthouse in Manhattan.
On the back was a handwritten date.
Tomorrow.
Richard whispered, "She's going to claim custody of Lily in open court."
Marco stared at him.
"On what grounds?"
May you like
Richard looked at Isabella.
"Because she has a witness who will swear that Isabella kidnapped her own daughter."
