Chapter 6 - THE PRICE OF A CHILDMy first instinct was rage.
My second was disbelief.
“He’s using his own daughter.”
Daniel took the phone from my hand and replayed the video.
Lily sat rigid beside Malcolm.
Her hands were folded in her lap.
She was not crying.
That frightened me more.
Children who felt safe cried.
Children who believed crying could make things worse became still.
Emma stood beside me clutching the jeweled egg.
I crouched.
“Sweetheart, Rebecca is going to take you upstairs.”
“No.”
“Emma.”
“I want Daddy.”
Daniel knelt.
He kissed her forehead.
“I need to help Aunt Beatrice.”
Emma looked toward the screen.
“Is Lily scared?”
Daniel paused.
“Yes.”
Emma hugged him.
“Go get her.”
He closed his eyes for half a second.
Then stood.
Rebecca took Emma upstairs.
Daniel called Agent Ruiz.
I called Beatrice.
She answered immediately.
“Did he send it to you?”
“Yes.”
Her breathing was ragged.
“He won’t answer me.”
“We’re finding them.”
“That’s my baby, Laura.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
She immediately stopped.
I heard her inhale sharply.
“I’m sorry.”
I said nothing.
“No,” she continued. “That was cruel.”
“It’s okay.”
“It isn’t.”
Her voice broke.
“I’ve said things like that to you my whole life.”
I closed my eyes.
This was not the moment.
“We get Lily first.”
“Yes.”
“Then we deal with everything else.”
Daniel pointed at the video.
“Pause at eight seconds.”
I did.
Behind Malcolm was a narrow window.
Outside it stood a blue maintenance building.
Daniel zoomed in.
“There are only three private airfields within forty miles.”
He called his security director.
Agent Ruiz arrived downstairs five minutes later.
“The FAA has been notified.”
“Can Malcolm take off?” I asked.
“If he has not already.”
Beatrice arrived with my father.
She looked destroyed.
“Where is she?”
Daniel showed her the video.
My father watched once.
Then again.
“Play the audio louder.”
We did.
Malcolm spoke.
Beneath his voice was another sound.
A bell.
Three low chimes.
My father’s eyes narrowed.
“That isn’t an airport.”
Daniel looked at him.
“What?”
“It’s St. Bartholomew.”
I stared.
“The old church?”
Our family chapel stood six miles north of the estate.
It had been closed for fifteen years.
A small private landing strip had once existed beside it for crop planes.
My grandmother used to take us there for Easter services.
“How do you know?”
“The bell.”
My father was already moving.
“It was cast in France. Nothing else sounds like it.”
Agent Ruiz called her team.
We left Emma with Rebecca and two security officers.
I hated leaving her.
But Lily needed us.
The drive to St. Bartholomew took nine minutes.
It felt like an hour.
Beatrice sat beside me in Daniel’s SUV.
Her hands shook continuously.
“My mother told me you were jealous of me.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
“She said that was why you never liked Malcolm.”
“I never liked Malcolm because he treated people badly.”
“I thought you were jealous.”
“Of what?”
“My life.”
She laughed bitterly.
“I spent twenty years making sure you knew I had won.”
I looked out the window.
“Beatrice.”
“No. I need to say it.”
Her voice shook.
“Every time Mom criticized you, I joined her because it meant she wasn’t criticizing me.”
That sentence landed quietly.
And explained almost everything.
“You were safer when I was the failure,” I said.
She nodded.
“I’m sorry.”
I looked at my sister.
“I believe you.”
Her eyes filled.
“I don’t forgive you yet.”
She nodded again.
“I know.”
The abandoned church appeared between the trees.
Beyond it sat a small hangar.
No aircraft.
Beatrice made a sound.
“No.”
Agent Ruiz’s vehicles surrounded the property.
Daniel’s security team approached the hangar.
Empty.
Beatrice nearly collapsed.
Then my father pointed toward the church.
“The light.”
One stained-glass window glowed.
We ran.
Agent Ruiz stopped us at the entrance.
“Stay behind.”
She entered with two officers.
“Federal agents!”
Silence.
Then a child screamed.
“Mom!”
Beatrice shoved past everyone.
“Lily!”
We entered the chapel.
Lily stood near the altar.
Alone.
Beatrice ran to her.
They collided halfway down the aisle.
My sister dropped to her knees and wrapped both arms around her daughter.
“Baby.”
“Mom!”
“Are you hurt?”
Lily shook her head.
“Where is Daddy?”
Lily pointed toward the back.
“He left.”
“How?”
“A man came.”
“What man?”
“I don’t know.”
Agent Ruiz crouched.
“What did he look like?”
Lily sniffed.
“Old.”
My father went still.
“How old?”
“Like Grandpa.”
Beatrice looked at him.
“What did Malcolm say to him?”
Lily wiped her eyes.
“He called him Dad.”
Nobody moved.
My father whispered, “Charles.”
Charles Whitmore had picked up his son.
Malcolm had never intended to fly.
The airport story was a distraction.
Agent Ruiz stood.
“Did they say where they were going?”
Lily shook her head.
Then reached into her coat.
“But Daddy dropped this.”
A small brass token.
My father took it.
His face changed.
I recognized the symbol.
A lion beneath a crown.
It appeared on old fixtures throughout our estate.
“The east staircase,” I whispered.
My father looked at me.
“This belonged to the old wine tunnels.”
Beatrice stood.
“What wine tunnels?”
My father’s expression hardened.
“Tunnels connecting the Hale estate to the church.”
Twenty years ago, wealthy families had built underground storage corridors during Prohibition.
Most had supposedly collapsed.
Apparently not all.
Daniel looked toward the church basement.
“If Charles came through the tunnel—”
“He could return to the mansion without using the road,” I finished.
Emma.
My blood turned to ice.
I called Rebecca.
No answer.
Again.
No answer.
Daniel was already running.
We raced back to the vehicles.
I called security.
One officer answered.
“Mrs. Mercer?”
“Where is Emma?”
A crashing sound came through the phone.
Then shouting.
“Mrs. Mercer, stay away from the estate!”
The call cut out.
I screamed Daniel’s name.
He drove faster.
When we reached the mansion, the front doors stood open.
One security officer lay conscious but bleeding near the entry.
Rebecca was beside him.
“Emma?” I shouted.
Rebecca pointed toward the east wing.
“He took her.”
My knees almost gave way.
“Who?”
“Charles Whitmore.”
My father stared toward the sealed staircase.
Twenty years of fear vanished from his face.
Something colder replaced it.
“He came back for what’s under the stairs.”
Then from somewhere beneath the mansion, Emma screamed.
“Mommy!”
May you like
I ran toward the sound.
And this time, nobody could stop me.
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