Chapter 3 - Apartment 3C
Southport Court was worse than Nicholas expected.
That fact bothered him more than he wanted to admit.
He had owned the building for seven years.
Technically.
He'd never been inside.
That realization followed him through the front entrance.
The lobby tiles were cracked.
Half the mailboxes hung crooked.
A radiator clanged loudly enough to sound dangerous.
The elevator carried an OUT OF SERVICE notice that looked months old.
Emily glanced at him.
“It's been broken since March.”
Nicholas looked toward his property manager.
A man named Leonard Price had met them at the entrance after receiving a call directly from Nicholas.
“It was scheduled—”
Nicholas raised one finger.
Leonard stopped.
“Don't tell me what was scheduled. Tell me why it isn't working.”
“We've had contractor problems.”
“Which contractor?”
Leonard hesitated.
“Pike Facilities.”
Nicholas almost laughed.
Of course.
Graham's network.
They took the stairs.
Emily carried Lucy.
Nicholas had argued again about bringing the toddler.
Emily won for a simple reason.
She refused to leave her daughter in the mansion after discovering somebody inside Nicholas's own organization might be compromised.
Nicholas couldn't fault her logic.
On the second floor, an elderly woman opened her door.
“Emily?”
“Hi, Mrs. Alvarez.”
The woman stared at Nicholas.
Recognition slowly arrived.
Her expression changed.
Not admiration.
Not fear.
Disgust.
“You.”
Nicholas stopped.
“Yes, ma'am.”
“You own this place.”
“Yes.”
“Then you're a bastard.”
Leonard made a noise.
Nicholas looked at him.
“Don't.”
Mrs. Alvarez pointed down the corridor.
“Three weeks with no hot water last winter.”
Nicholas's jaw tightened.
“Is that true?”
Leonard began, “We experienced—”
Nicholas looked at the woman.
“I asked her.”
Mrs. Alvarez nodded.
“Three weeks.”
“Anything else?”
She gave him a humorless laugh.
“You got an hour?”
Nicholas did.
The thirty-two-million-dollar deal didn't happen that day.
Neither did three other meetings.
He spent two hours walking Southport Court.
Mold in 4A.
Leaking ceiling in 5D.
A stove disconnected because the gas line needed repair.
Pest problems.
Broken locks.
Every problem had been reported.
Most had been marked RESOLVED in the digital maintenance system.
They weren't resolved.
They were hidden.
By the time Nicholas reached 3C, his anger had become almost silent.
Emily unlocked the apartment.
It was small.
Clean.
Almost painfully so.
Secondhand furniture.
Children's books stacked neatly beneath the window.
A folding high chair.
Family photographs taped to the refrigerator.
Daniel smiled in several of them.
Nicholas studied his face.
Thirty-four.
Thin.
Glasses.
Ordinary.
The kind of employee powerful men rarely notice until something goes wrong.
Lucy wriggled from Emily's arms and crawled toward a basket of toys.
“Home,” she announced.
Emily looked at Nicholas.
“She thinks every problem ends because we're home.”
Nicholas glanced around.
“Does it?”
“No.”
That answer stayed with him.
They entered the bedroom.
Emily pointed to the closet.
“Daniel changed this lock.”
The current lock was ordinary.
The brass key didn't fit.
Nicholas crouched.
“Did Graham search this room?”
“Yes.”
“After Daniel died?”
“Last week.”
“He didn't find anything.”
“Apparently.”
Nicholas examined the closet frame.
Old wood.
Fresh screws.
He ran his hand along the upper edge.
Nothing.
Emily searched Daniel's belongings.
Lucy sat on the floor with Bunny.
Then the toddler began tapping the wall with the brass key.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Nicholas looked down.
Most adults would've told her to stop.
Instead, he listened.
Tap.
Solid.
Tap.
Solid.
Tap.
Hollow.
Nicholas crouched.
“Again.”
Lucy smiled.
Tap.
Hollow.
He looked at Emily.
“Was that wall ever repaired?”
“Not that I know.”
Nicholas pressed the panel.
A rectangular section shifted.
Someone had cut drywall and replaced it carefully.
He removed it.
Behind the wall sat a small steel box.
Emily covered her mouth.
“Oh my God.”
Nicholas lifted it out.
Keyhole.
He looked at Lucy's brass key.
It fit.
The toddler clapped.
“Daddy!”
Emily cried before the box opened.
Inside were paper documents.
Actual originals.
Daniel had understood digital files could be altered.
Paper was harder to erase.
Nicholas pulled out the first bundle.
Tenant leases.
Southport residents.
All current.
Nine families.
Exactly as Emily said.
Each lease contained renewal options extending another year.
Yet Rourke Urban's digital database listed every unit as terminated.
Forgery.
Next came notarized affidavits.
Statements from maintenance contractors.
Payments requested for work never performed.
Then a photograph.
Graham Pike meeting Leonard Price in the parking garage beneath Rourke headquarters.
Another photograph.
A man Nicholas recognized instantly.
Marcus Dwyer.
Deputy chief of Rourke estate security.
Nicholas's body became still.
Marcus had served him nine years.
He knew the mansion.
Personal schedules.
Travel routes.
Alarm codes.
Emily noticed.
“You know him.”
“Yes.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means Daniel was right.”
This wasn't only Graham.
Nicholas turned another photograph.
Marcus handing Graham a black envelope.
Date stamped seventeen days before Daniel died.
The next document was a vehicle service invoice.
Daniel Mercer's car.
Brake inspection.
Performed the morning before the crash.
Authorized vendor:
Dwyer Fleet Security.
Emily sat on the bed.
“No.”
Nicholas reread it.
“Emily.”
“No.”
She stood.
“You said the police said he fell asleep.”
“They did.”
“No.”
“I know.”
“No, you don't.”
Her voice rose.
Lucy looked up.
Emily immediately lowered it.
“You don't know.”
Nicholas understood what she meant.
For him, the document was evidence.
For her, it reopened a grave.
She looked at Daniel's photograph on the dresser.
“I spent eighteen months thinking I should have noticed something.”
“You couldn't have.”
“You don't know that.”
“I know he deliberately kept you out of it.”
“That doesn't make it better.”
“No.”
Emily wiped her face.
“What do we do?”
Nicholas looked again at Marcus's photograph.
His mansion security system.
His office cameras.
His private wing.
Marcus could've known about Lucy entering the room before Graham texted.
The warning suddenly made sense.
“First, we leave.”
“Why?”
“Because Marcus knows we're here.”
“How?”
Leonard Price.
Property manager.
Security connection.
Perhaps cameras.
Perhaps phones.
Too many possibilities.
Nicholas closed the steel box.
“Now.”
He called no one.
No security channel.
No house.
He led Emily and Lucy downstairs himself.
Halfway down the second-floor landing, the lights went out.
Emily stopped.
“Nicholas?”
“Don't move.”
The emergency lights should've activated.
They didn't.
He heard footsteps below.
Two men.
Maybe three.
Nicholas quietly drew the pistol beneath his jacket.
Emily saw.
Her face changed.
“Take Lucy.”
“I have her.”
“Stay behind me.”
One flashlight beam swept upward.
“Nicholas Rourke?”
He didn't answer.
Another voice.
“Mr. Rourke, Marcus sent us.”
That was exactly why Nicholas didn't relax.
“Tell Marcus I'm unavailable.”
The men began climbing.
Nicholas backed Emily toward Mrs. Alvarez's apartment.
The elderly woman's door opened.
“What happened to the lights?”
Nicholas looked at her.
“Ma'am, get inside.”
She saw the gun.
For once, she didn't insult him.
Nicholas pushed Emily and Lucy inside.
“Lock it.”
“What about you?”
“Lock it.”
The door closed.
Footsteps approached.
“Nicholas.”
He recognized one man now.
Estate security.
Kevin Doyle.
Worked the outer gate.
That was bad.
“Boss, Marcus said there may be a threat.”
Nicholas kept his pistol low.
“Where is Marcus?”
“On his way.”
“How did he know I was here?”
Silence.
One second.
Enough.
Nicholas moved.
Not recklessly.
Fast.
He caught Doyle's gun wrist, drove him against the railing, and took the weapon before the second man reacted.
The second guard froze.
Nicholas aimed.
“Floor.”
“Boss—”
“Floor.”
He complied.
Doyle cursed.
“What the hell?”
Nicholas searched him.
Phone.
Radio.
A photograph of Emily.
Another of Lucy.
Taken that morning outside the mansion.
Nicholas stared.
“Why do you have this?”
Doyle's expression collapsed.
“I don't know.”
“You're holding the phone.”
“Marcus sent it.”
“Why?”
“He said the woman stole something.”
Emily's apartment door opened behind them.
Nicholas turned.
“Stay inside.”
Emily ignored him.
Doyle saw Lucy.
His face changed.
Guilt.
“What did Marcus tell you to do with them?”
“Nothing.”
Nicholas stepped closer.
“What did he tell you?”
“To bring the woman in.”
“Where?”
“The old freight office.”
Emily whispered, “Why?”
Doyle looked at her.
“He said you had Daniel's files.”
There it was.
The conspiracy had stopped pretending.
Nicholas took Doyle's radio.
“Tell Marcus you found us.”
Doyle stared.
“What?”
“Tell him I'm taking Emily back to the mansion.”
“That isn't where he—”
“I know.”
Nicholas looked at Emily.
He finally understood the scale of what was happening.
They weren't merely following her.
They were trying to control where Nicholas went.
Which meant somebody wanted him back home.
He called Adrian from a burner phone.
“Where are you?”
“Office.”
“Leave.”
“Why?”
“Archive 9.”
A pause.
“I checked the access history.”
Nicholas waited.
Adrian's voice became quieter.
“Someone entered it the night Daniel died.”
“Who?”
“Your credentials.”
Nicholas closed his eyes.
Another forged identity.
“I wasn't there.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“You were at your mother's memorial in Milwaukee. I was with you.”
“Then who used my credentials?”
Adrian hesitated.
“Marcus Dwyer signed the security override.”
Nicholas looked toward Emily.
The rot was now inside his walls.
“Adrian.”
“Yes?”
“Do not go home.”
“Where should I go?”
Nicholas looked at Lucy.
The little girl sat in her mother's arms clutching the rabbit that had already survived more danger than most people.
“Somewhere Marcus doesn't know.”
A loud explosion came from outside.
Windows shook.
Emily screamed.
Nicholas ran to the landing window.
His black SUV was burning at the curb.
Flames rolled from the engine compartment.
Lucy began crying.
Emily held her tightly.
Doyle stared through the window.
“I didn't know.”
Nicholas believed him.
Because the guard looked terrified too.
Then Nicholas's phone buzzed.
A message.
May you like
Unknown number.
YOU SHOULD HAVE SIGNED THE DEAL.
