Chapter 6 - LOCKER 317
We escaped through a drainage outlet near the river.
Tomas had been shot.
The bullet passed through his upper arm, but blood soaked half his jacket before Roman managed to wrap it.
Lily had stopped speaking.
That frightened me more than anything.
She sat against my chest beneath the river bridge while Roman made two phone calls.
The first went to a man named Detective Samuel Ortega.
Roman told him enough to make Ortega start swearing.
The second went to a federal prosecutor.
That surprised me.
“You know federal prosecutors?”
Roman ended the call.
“They know me.”
“Not the same thing.”
“No.”
He looked toward the dark river.
“My father spent his life believing institutions were enemies to be bought, frightened, or avoided. I spent mine learning that sometimes the only way to destroy men like Vincent is to put evidence somewhere bullets can't reach.”
I studied him.
“You were already working with them.”
“For eleven months.”
“Against your own family?”
“Against anyone using my companies for trafficking.”
That changed something.
Not enough to make me trust him.
But enough to make him more complicated than the stories.
Roman gave Tomas the laptop.
“Get copies to Ortega and Bell.”
Tomas nodded.
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
Roman reached for it.
I pulled away.
“No.”
“Mara.”
“They keep calling me because they want me afraid.”
“You should be.”
“I am.”
I answered.
“Hello?”
A woman's voice whispered.
“Mara?”
I knew that voice.
“Celeste?”
Celeste Ward was Lily's occasional nanny at Blackridge.
The woman whose reflection had appeared in Vincent's photograph.
I stood.
Roman immediately watched me.
“Where are you?”
Celeste was crying.
“They made me.”
My anger exploded.
“You had a Blue Heron badge.”
“I know.”
“Did you give them access to the library?”
“No.”
“Mara,” she sobbed, “listen to me. Felix came to my apartment six months ago. He knew about my brother's debt. He said if I didn't cooperate—”
“What did you do?”
Silence.
“What did you do, Celeste?”
“I told them where Lily went.”
My body went cold.
“Where she went?”
“Inside Blackridge. What rooms. What times you worked. When she was with you.”
Roman took the phone from me and put it on speaker.
Celeste continued crying.
“They were watching the toy.”
I stared at Lily's red car.
“Why?”
“They didn't know what Daniel hid. Only that he hid something with Lily before he died.”
My stomach twisted.
“They knew?”
“Felix did.”
Roman's voice cut in.
“Where are you now?”
Celeste gasped.
“Mr. Hail?”
“Where?”
“Blackridge.”
“Who's there?”
“I don't know. They locked me in the laundry room after they took the photo.”
“Vincent?”
“I never saw him.”
Roman looked at Tomas.
Tomas began texting.
Celeste suddenly stopped crying.
I heard a door.
“Mara.”
Her voice changed.
“Mara, they're coming.”
“Hide.”
“No place.”
A man's voice sounded faintly behind her.
Then Celeste said one desperate sentence.
“Don't bring Lily back to Blackridge.”
The line disconnected.
I grabbed Roman's arm.
“We're getting her.”
“No.”
“She helped them, but she also just warned us.”
“Which may be exactly why Vincent let her make that call.”
“You think it's a trap.”
“I know it's a trap.”
“Then what do we do?”
Roman looked at Lily.
“Something Vincent won't expect.”
By dawn, we were inside a federal safe apartment forty miles away.
Roman hated it.
He paced.
Tomas had gone to a hospital under another name.
Detective Ortega arrived with two agents and collected Daniel's files.
For the first time in two years, someone with a badge looked me in the eye and told me Daniel's death would be reopened as a homicide.
I cried in a bathroom where Lily couldn't see me.
When I came out, Roman was sitting on the floor.
Lily sat across from him.
Between them were two toy cars agents had bought from a twenty-four-hour pharmacy.
Roman rolled the blue one.
Lily rolled the red.
Crash.
She giggled.
The sound nearly broke me.
Roman looked up.
Our eyes met.
There was blood still dried beneath one fingernail.
His coat was gone.
His empire was being raided.
His cousin wanted him dead.
And he was sitting cross-legged on a government apartment floor making engine sounds for my daughter.
I looked away first.
At nine that morning, Ortega returned.
“We have a problem.”
Roman stood.
“What?”
“The storage card proves financial crimes and Daniel's murder conspiracy.”
“That's not a problem.”
“The problem is Vincent knows it too.”
“So arrest him.”
“He's gone.”
Roman's jaw tightened.
“Airport?”
“Nothing.”
“Private airfields?”
“Nothing.”
“Ports?”
“Nothing.”
Ortega hesitated.
“He may still be at Blackridge.”
Roman laughed without humor.
“No.”
“What?”
“If Vincent was hiding at Blackridge, he wouldn't need Celeste to call us back.”
“Then where?”
Roman stared at the map on the wall.
His finger moved north.
“Cold-storage complex.”
Ortega frowned.
“Which one?”
“Saint Marrow.”
I knew the name.
Daniel had mentioned it.
A refrigerated distribution center closed after a fire three years earlier.
Roman looked at me.
“Daniel's last assignment before he died was Saint Marrow.”
My stomach tightened.
Before anyone could move, an agent entered.
“Ms. Vale?”
“Yes?”
He held my phone.
“You received a message.”
I took it.
Video.
Celeste.
Alive.
Tied to a chair.
Behind her stood Felix.
Black signet ring visible.
He looked directly into the camera.
“Mara, you have something that belongs to us.”
He lifted a knife.
“You have until noon.”
Then the camera moved.
The next image showed something worse.
A small yellow cardigan.
Lily's yellow cardigan.
On the floor beside Celeste.
I looked at my daughter.
She was still wearing hers.
“No,” I whispered.
Roman saw it too.
A trick.
A message.
They had bought the same cardigan.
They were telling us exactly what they planned to do.
Felix smiled into the camera.
“At twelve, the nanny dies.”
He tapped the yellow sweater with his shoe.
“At twelve-ten, we start looking for the child.”
The video ended.
Roman took my phone.
His expression became something I had never seen before.
Not anger.
Decision.
He turned toward Ortega.
May you like
“If you want Vincent Hail alive, you'd better move faster than I do.”
And for the first time, the federal detective looked afraid of the man standing in front of him.
