Chapter 5 - THE NIGHT SHE DISAPPEARED AGAIN
There are different kinds of fear.
I had known the kind that comes before a gunshot.
The kind that arrives when a doctor walks toward you too slowly.
The kind that lives inside an empty house when the person you love has been missing for seven months.
But nothing compared to hearing Claire whisper that she was being moved and knowing she was carrying our child while men who wanted that child erased controlled where she went next.
Pier 19 was a trap.
I went anyway.
Not alone.
Not exactly.
I took Damian.
Theo wanted to come despite the blood dried along his temple.
I refused.
Noah remained with him and Tessa at Marblehead, tracing anything connected to Victor, Pike, and Hopewell Family Outreach.
Damian sat in the passenger seat with his hands cuffed in front of him.
He stared through the windshield.
“If Victor sees me—”
“He won’t.”
“You think you’re better at this than he is?”
“No.”
I turned toward him.
“I think I’m more desperate.”
He believed that.
Pier 19 sat along an industrial section of Boston Harbor that looked dead after midnight.
It wasn’t.
Places like that were never truly empty.
They breathed through machinery.
Water.
Distant engines.
Metal contracting in the cold.
I parked two blocks away.
“Tell me what Victor does next.”
Damian hesitated.
“Victor likes choices that aren’t choices.”
“That means?”
“He gives you two bad options and makes you feel grateful for selecting one.”
“Where would he take Claire?”
“I don’t know.”
I leaned closer.
“You helped him hide her for seven months.”
“I moved her. I didn’t run Victor’s contingency plans.”
“What places does he control?”
“Warehouses. Medical transport contracts. Private air charter. Three marinas.”
Medical transport.
I looked at him.
“What?”
“Say that again.”
“Medical transport.”
Claire was thirty-five weeks pregnant.
Victor would need her mobile.
Alive until I signed.
And if she went into labor, he would need a place where her condition did not attract immediate attention.
My phone rang.
Tessa.
“We found something.”
“Talk.”
“Hopewell owns a subcontractor called North Coast Medical Transit.”
I looked at Damian.
He heard it.
His face changed.
Tessa continued.
“They have four registered ambulances. Two active. Two supposedly decommissioned.”
“Locations?”
“One was recorded on a traffic camera in Lynn twenty minutes ago.”
“Where in Lynn?”
“Near Saint Agnes.”
I knew the name.
Saint Agnes Maternity Center had closed four years earlier after a hospital merger.
Most of the property had remained vacant because of a dispute over redevelopment.
Victor had invested in the redevelopment company.
“Send me everything.”
I hung up.
Damian cursed.
“He’s using Saint Agnes.”
“Why?”
“Underground vehicle access. Private loading area. Old surgical floor.”
My vision sharpened.
“And nobody watching it.”
“Exactly.”
I started the engine.
Pier 19 disappeared behind us.
The photograph, the note, the deadline—every part of it had been designed to keep me at the harbor while Victor moved Claire north.
The trap was not meant to kill me.
It was meant to waste time.
Twenty-six minutes later, Saint Agnes appeared through the trees.
The building looked abandoned.
Most windows were dark.
One service entrance glowed faintly.
I parked away from the road.
Damian looked at the cuffs.
“You expect me to sit here?”
“Yes.”
“Roman.”
“You put Claire into this.”
“And I can help get her out.”
I almost ignored him.
Then he said, “Victor won’t trust you without the proxy.”
“He’ll get a copy.”
“He’ll know.”
I turned.
“Why?”
“Because Pike is the trustee. He can authenticate the signatures remotely.”
Of course he could.
Another betrayal.
Another key I had given someone and forgotten they possessed.
I unlocked one cuff.
Damian stared.
“Don’t make me regret that.”
He gave a humorless laugh.
“I think we passed regret months ago.”
We entered through the old loading wing.
The corridor smelled like dust and antiseptic that had soaked too deeply into the walls to ever leave.
Some emergency lights still worked.
Others flickered.
I heard voices above us.
Damian pointed toward the stairwell.
“Third floor used to be labor and delivery.”
We moved upward.
Halfway to the third floor, my phone vibrated.
Theo.
A text.
PIKE FOUND DEAD IN HIS OFFICE. POLICE ON SCENE.
I stopped.
Damian read my face.
“What?”
“Pike is dead.”
His expression changed.
“That’s Victor.”
“You’re sure?”
“Pike knew too much.”
So did Damian.
He understood that a second later.
“Victor is cleaning the board.”
“Yes.”
“And I’m on it.”
“Yes.”
For the first time, Damian looked less like my enemy and more like a man who had finally realized the devil he had partnered with did not believe in partners.
A woman cried out upstairs.
Claire.
I took the stairs two at a time.
Damian followed.
At the end of the third-floor hall, light spilled from an old recovery room.
Victor’s voice carried through the door.
“Again.”
Claire answered.
“I already said it.”
“Say it correctly.”
I moved close enough to see through the narrow window.
Claire sat in a wheelchair.
Her wrists were no longer tied.
A camera stood in front of her.
Victor DeLuca stood behind it.
My father’s brother looked almost elegant.
Silver hair.
Dark overcoat.
Perfectly polished shoes.
As though he were attending the symphony instead of terrorizing a pregnant woman in an abandoned hospital.
A man beside the camera held a paper.
Claire read from it.
“My husband, Roman DeLuca, arranged my disappearance after discovering my pregnancy.”
Every muscle in my body locked.
Victor was making evidence.
Not just against me.
For himself.
If Claire died, the video would survive.
If I signed, he would control the company.
If I refused, he would release the recording and bury me.
Claire continued.
“He instructed members of his security staff to keep me isolated—”
She stopped.
Victor sighed.
“Claire.”
“My back hurts.”
“You can rest when we finish.”
“I think I’m having contractions.”
My chest stopped.
Victor glanced at the man beside him.
“How far apart?”
Claire looked straight at the camera.
Then, almost imperceptibly, her eyes shifted toward the door.
Toward me.
She knew.
I don't know how.
Maybe she saw movement in the glass.
Maybe she simply felt me there.
But her expression changed.
She took a slow breath.
“About six minutes.”
Victor swore.
“We move in ten.”
The man near him grabbed the camera.
I stepped into the room.
“You’re not moving anywhere.”
Victor turned.
For the first time in my life, I saw my uncle truly surprised.
“Roman.”
Claire made a sound that nearly broke me.
Not fear.
Relief.
I moved toward her.
Victor raised a gun.
“Stop.”
I stopped.
Damian entered behind me.
Victor’s surprise became something colder.
“Damian.”
“You killed Pike.”
Victor shrugged.
“Pike became nervous.”
“You were going to kill me too.”
“Eventually.”
The simplicity of it cut through whatever loyalty Damian still imagined existed.
“You promised me control.”
“I promised you a chance.”
“You used me.”
Victor smiled.
“You were very eager to be used.”
Damian went pale.
Claire’s breathing changed.
I looked at her.
“Are you okay?”
“No.”
The word came out through clenched teeth.
Another contraction.
Victor gestured with the gun.
“Proxy.”
“I have it.”
“Put it down.”
“Let Claire go.”
Victor laughed.
“You still believe you’re negotiating.”
“I sign after she walks out.”
“You sign now.”
“No.”
His smile vanished.
The next seconds happened too quickly.
Damian moved first.
Not toward Victor.
Toward the man beside Claire.
I went for Claire.
Victor fired.
The shot hit the wall.
Someone slammed into the camera.
Claire screamed.
I reached the wheelchair and pulled her down behind the old nurses’ station.
“Roman—”
“I’ve got you.”
“My water broke.”
I looked down.
She was right.
A gunshot cracked again.
Damian shouted.
Then the emergency lights went out.
Darkness swallowed the floor.
I felt Claire gripping my coat.
Somewhere near the service corridor, an engine roared.
Headlights flashed through a window.
“Victor’s moving,” Damian shouted.
I reached for Claire.
Then a man hit me from behind.
I went down hard.
For several seconds, the world became noise and black shapes.
By the time I got back to my feet, the loading doors below were opening.
“Claire!”
No answer.
I ran.
Down one flight.
Then another.
The ambulance was already moving.
Its rear doors slammed shut.
Through the small window, I saw Claire.
One hand against the glass.
Her mouth formed my name.
Then the ambulance accelerated into the night.
I ran after it until my lungs burned.
Damian appeared beside me, blood running from his forehead.
“Where would Victor take her?” I shouted.
He stared after the disappearing ambulance.
Then his face went white.
“The airfield.”
“What airfield?”
“North Shore.”
May you like
He looked at me.
“If he gets her on that plane before the baby is born, you’ll never see either of them again.”
