Chapter 3 - BEHIND THE BOOKS
I had spent most of my adult life believing fear was useful only when controlled.
Fear kept employees punctual. Fear kept rivals cautious. Fear kept men who had once threatened my family from ever making the mistake twice.
But the fear in Grace Harper's face was different.
It was not fear of me.
It was fear that I would discover what she had spent years protecting.
I held the pistol steady. “Come into the light.”
The woman in the passage coughed again.
“I can't.”
“Why?”
“Because the door is locked from this side.”
I looked at the narrow stairwell. The stone walls were too close for two people to pass. A second door waited at the bottom, its surface hidden in shadow.
“How long have you been there?”
“Since yesterday afternoon.”
Grace closed her eyes.
That small movement told me she knew the woman.
“Grace,” I said.
“I don't know her.”
“You just looked at the floor.”
“I am sick.”
“You are also lying.”
Mia lifted her head. “Mama knows her.”
Grace turned toward her. “Mia, stop.”
The girl shrank, but not before I saw the apology in Grace's eyes.
I stepped into the passage.
“Mr. Duca, no,” Grace said.
“You have two minutes to tell me why I should not go downstairs.”
“Because whoever put her there may still be in the house.”
My hand tightened around the pistol.
The mansion had a professional security team. Cameras covered every entrance. Motion sensors protected the lower halls. No one should have entered without my people knowing.
Unless someone inside had helped them.
I pressed the hidden button on my phone. “Call Owen. Lock the house down. Nobody leaves. Nobody enters. Bring two men to the library.”
The call connected immediately.
“What happened?” Owen asked.
“We have an unauthorized passage behind the library.”
There was a pause.
“That passage was sealed.”
“Apparently not.”
“I'm on my way.”
I ended the call and descended the first three steps.
The woman behind the lower door began to breathe faster.
“Do not shoot,” she said.
“Then tell me where your hands are.”
“Empty.”
“Put them where I can see them.”
The door opened inward by an inch. A pale hand appeared first, trembling against the edge. Then a woman stumbled into view.
She looked to be in her early thirties, though exhaustion had carved years beneath her eyes. Her dark coat was torn at the shoulder. A line of dried blood ran from her temple to her jaw. She held a small black flash drive in one hand.
I recognized her after a second.
“Tessa Reed.”
Her mouth twisted into a humorless smile. “You remembered.”
Tessa had been a financial investigator for one of my companies. Six months earlier, she had disappeared after accusing a senior executive of moving money through construction firms in Boston and Providence. The board had called her allegations unsubstantiated. The police had called her a missing adult.
I had assumed she had run.
“What are you doing in my wall?”
“Trying to stay alive.”
“Who put you there?”
She looked past me toward Grace.
Grace lowered her head.
Tessa's eyes returned to mine. “Your cousin.”
The name struck with immediate clarity.
“Matteo?”
“He found me at a motel outside Hartford. I escaped when his driver stopped for gas. I came here because this was the only place I knew he would be afraid to search.”
“Matteo is not afraid of my house.”
“He is afraid of what your house contains.”
Tessa held out the flash drive.
“This proves where the money went. It proves who signed the transfers. It proves your grandfather's old network never ended. It merely changed its clothes.”
Behind me, Grace inhaled sharply.
I took the drive.
At that moment, the library door slammed open.
Owen entered with two armed guards. He was broad-shouldered, gray-haired, and calm in the way men become calm after surviving too many dangerous nights.
His eyes went immediately to Tessa.
Then to the flash drive.
Then to Grace.
Only for half a second.
But I saw it.
Recognition.
“You know her,” I said.
Owen's face became unreadable. “I know of her.”
“That was not my question.”
The baby began to cry again.
Mia reached behind herself and patted Lily gently. “Shh. It's okay.”
Tessa stared at the child, and something like grief crossed her face.
“She has the same eyes,” Tessa whispered.
Grace went rigid.
I turned. “Whose eyes?”
No one answered.
The emergency lights flickered. Somewhere in the house, glass shattered.
One of the guards touched his earpiece. “Movement in the east corridor.”
Owen gave an order, and both men moved toward the door.
I grabbed Grace's arm before she could follow. “You are staying here.”
“My children—”
“Are with you.”
Tessa backed toward the passage. “He found us.”
“Who?”
Her lips barely moved.
“The man who has been knocking.”
Another sound came from behind the bookcase.
Three knocks.
This time, they came from above us.
The guard nearest the door suddenly raised his weapon toward Owen.
Owen moved first. He struck the man's wrist, and the gun fired into the ceiling. Plaster rained over the shelves.
Mia screamed.
Grace dropped to her knees and covered both children.
I fired once at the light fixture. Darkness swallowed the room.
For several seconds there was only shouting, footsteps, and the thin wail of a baby.
Then someone grabbed my coat from behind.
I spun, expecting an attacker.
It was Mia.
She pointed toward the bookcase.
“Mr. Duca,” she whispered. “The knocking moved.”
I looked at the shelves.
May you like
The red books were still in place.
But one of them was slowly sliding outward by itself.
