Chapter 5 - THE BOY WITH THE WOODEN AIRPLANE
The abandoned church had four exits.
Marcus’s men covered three.
Victor Hale used the fourth.
A maintenance tunnel hidden beneath the altar.
By the time they found it, he was gone.
Adrian stood at the entrance to the tunnel staring into darkness.
Nobody spoke to him.
Emily understood why.
Noah had been taken.
Whatever patience Adrian Blackwood possessed had narrowed into something far more dangerous.
Emily took Tyler outside first.
He resisted.
“I can help.”
“You were kidnapped less than two hours ago.”
“I’m okay.”
“You’re seventeen.”
“I know how old I am.”
“So do I.”
Tyler looked ready to argue.
Then he saw her face.
His anger disappeared.
“Em.”
She hugged him.
For several seconds, neither said anything.
He finally whispered, “Was Dad murdered?”
Emily closed her eyes.
“I don’t know yet.”
“He said—”
“I know what he said.”
“Did Mom know?”
Emily stepped back.
“I don’t know that either.”
Tyler laughed bitterly.
“We don’t know anything.”
It was exactly how she felt.
Marcus arranged for Tyler to be moved to a secure apartment.
Emily refused to leave with him.
Tyler protested until Adrian appeared.
“Go with Marcus’s man.”
Tyler looked at him.
“You’re getting Noah back?”
“Yes.”
No hesitation.
No uncertainty.
Tyler nodded.
“Then get him.”
After Tyler left, Emily joined Adrian inside the SUV.
He had not said more than ten words since Claire’s call.
Marcus was coordinating searches through three phones from the front seat.
Finally Emily spoke.
“I remember the airplane.”
Adrian turned.
“When I was sixteen, my father gave me one.”
“The same as Noah’s?”
“Maybe.”
She described the carved wooden toy.
Small wings.
Dark varnish.
A tiny silver screw in the underside.
Her father had told her to keep it because one day “someone might need to know where he landed.”
At the time, Emily assumed it was one of his strange jokes.
After Michael’s death, she packed the airplane with other childhood things.
When her mother remarried Daniel, most of those boxes went into storage.
“Where?” Adrian asked.
“South Bend.”
Marcus looked back.
“That’s nearly two hours away.”
Adrian checked the time.
“We go now.”
“And Noah?” Emily asked.
“Hale wants the same thing we need.”
“The location.”
Adrian nodded.
“So Noah stays useful while Hale doesn’t have it.”
Emily hated the logic.
But she knew he was right.
They reached South Bend shortly before dawn.
Emily’s mother, Linda Dawson, lived in a small ranch house near the edge of town.
Emily had not called ahead.
When Linda opened the door and saw her daughter standing beside Adrian Blackwood and two security men, her face told Emily everything.
She knew.
Maybe not everything.
But enough.
“Mom.”
Linda gripped the doorframe.
“What happened?”
“Tyler is safe.”
Her mother went white.
“What happened to Tyler?”
“Someone took him.”
Linda covered her mouth.
Emily stepped inside.
“His name was Victor Hale.”
Her mother closed her eyes.
That reaction was all the confirmation Emily needed.
“You know him.”
“Emily—”
“You know him.”
Linda looked toward Adrian.
“Not here.”
Emily laughed once.
“Not here? Mom, I spent fifteen years not asking questions because you told me we were safer that way. Tyler was kidnapped tonight. A nine-year-old boy is missing. So yes. Here.”
Linda sat slowly.
Adrian remained standing.
He did not interrupt.
Emily appreciated that more than she could say.
“Tell me about Michael.”
Linda looked at her daughter.
“Your father loved you.”
“Then tell me why he gave me a map to a missing child.”
Linda’s face changed.
“The airplane.”
Emily nodded.
“You kept it?”
“I think so.”
Linda stood and walked toward the hallway.
Then stopped.
“No.”
“What?”
“I moved it.”
“Where?”
“After Daniel died, I opened those boxes.”
Emily stared.
“Why?”
“Because Daniel had started asking about Michael.”
There it was.
Hale had told the truth about something.
Linda wiped her eyes.
“He found an old photograph. Michael with Margaret Blackwood.”
Adrian’s expression changed.
“What photograph?”
Linda looked at him.
“You were in it.”
Adrian frowned.
“I never met Michael Vale.”
“Yes, you did.”
Silence.
“You just didn’t know his name.”
Linda disappeared into the bedroom and returned with a shoebox.
Inside were photographs.
Emily recognized her father immediately.
Michael Vale, younger, smiling.
Beside him stood Margaret Blackwood.
And Adrian.
Maybe twenty-three years old.
Adrian stared.
“I remember this.”
“Where?” Emily asked.
“My father’s summer house in Wisconsin.”
Linda nodded.
“Michael audited the development company there.”
Adrian looked at another photograph.
Rebecca Vale.
Emily had barely remembered her aunt.
She was beautiful.
Dark hair.
Wide smile.
Beside her stood Thomas Blackwood.
Too close.
Far too close.
Adrian understood.
“My father.”
Linda nodded.
“Rebecca loved him.”
“And he used her.”
“I don’t know.”
“Thomas used everyone.”
Linda looked down.
“When Rebecca became pregnant, Michael begged her to leave Chicago.”
“She refused?”
“She believed Thomas would protect the baby.”
Adrian gave a humorless smile.
“That sounds like my father.”
Linda looked uncomfortable.
Emily leaned forward.
“Where is the airplane?”
Her mother finally opened a small cloth bag.
The wooden airplane lay inside.
Emily’s hands trembled when she picked it up.
Sixteen years disappeared.
She could almost hear Michael’s voice.
Someone might need to know where he landed.
Adrian inspected the underside.
Letters were carved near the tail.
L-47 / W-12 / BLUE HERON
Marcus frowned.
“Coordinates?”
“No,” Emily said.
She remembered.
“Blue Heron was a summer camp.”
Linda looked up sharply.
“Michael took us there once.”
“Where?”
“Wisconsin.”
Adrian was already searching his phone.
“Blue Heron Children’s Camp closed twelve years ago.”
Emily’s heart jumped.
“Exactly when Michael disappeared.”
Marcus scrolled.
“There are forty-seven cabins listed in old county records.”
L-47.
Lot 47.
W-12.
Ward 12?
Cabin 12?
Adrian stared at the toy.
“Maybe not a camp.”
Emily turned it over again.
The silver screw.
She twisted it.
A tiny compartment opened inside the wooden body.
A folded strip of paper slid into her palm.
It contained six words.
LAKE 47. WEST SHORE. CABIN 12.
Marcus exhaled.
“There we go.”
Linda began crying.
Emily looked at her.
“What?”
Her mother shook her head.
“I hoped Michael was wrong.”
“About what?”
“He told me if you ever opened the plane, it meant everyone else had failed.”
Emily swallowed.
“Where is Lake 47?”
Adrian answered.
“Not the official name.”
He had found something.
“There’s a private lake system north of Green Bay. Blackwood Timber owned forty-seven parcels there twenty years ago.”
Marcus checked another database.
“West shore cabin twelve still exists.”
“Owner?”
Marcus stopped.
“B. Vale.”
Emily’s pulse accelerated.
“Benjamin.”
Adrian stood.
They left within minutes.
Linda tried to convince Emily to stay.
She refused.
“Mom, why didn’t you tell me any of this?”
Linda held her daughter’s face between both hands.
“Because Michael made me promise.”
“Promises aren’t supposed to destroy your children.”
Tears filled Linda’s eyes.
“No.”
She nodded.
“They aren’t.”
It was not forgiveness.
Not yet.
But it was the first honest conversation they had had in fifteen years.
The drive north took three hours.
Snow had begun falling by the time they entered the rural roads near Lake 47.
Marcus sent two cars ahead.
Adrian refused to wait for them.
The cabin sat behind pine trees near frozen water.
Smoke rose from the chimney.
Someone lived there.
Emily felt her heartbeat in her throat.
They approached carefully.
Adrian knocked.
No answer.
Again.
Finally the door opened.
A teenage boy stood there.
Maybe sixteen.
Maybe seventeen.
Dark hair.
Gray eyes.
He looked at Adrian.
Then Emily.
Then the wooden airplane in her hand.
His face went completely pale.
“Where did you get that?”
Emily could barely speak.
“My father gave it to me.”
The boy stared.
“Michael?”
“Yes.”
His eyes filled.
“He told me you might come someday.”
Emily felt Adrian go still beside her.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
The boy swallowed.
“Ben.”
Adrian’s voice was almost a whisper.
“Benjamin Vale?”
The boy looked at him.
“No.”
A strange expression crossed his face.
“My legal name is Benjamin Vale.”
He opened the door wider.
“But Margaret told me who my father was.”
Adrian stopped breathing.
Benjamin studied him.
“Thomas Blackwood.”
Neither man moved.
Half-brothers.
Separated by more than twenty years.
Then Benjamin looked past them toward the road.
Fear entered his face.
“You shouldn’t have come.”
Emily turned.
Headlights appeared between the trees.
Several vehicles.
Too many.
Benjamin stepped backward.
“They found me.”
Adrian reached for his weapon.
Marcus shouted from the tree line.
“Boss!”
A shot cracked through the woods.
Not toward them.
Toward the cabin’s power transformer.
Everything went black.
Benjamin grabbed Emily’s arm.
“There’s a tunnel under the kitchen.”
Adrian looked at him.
“How do you know?”
Benjamin’s expression became grim.
“Because Claire built it for me.”
Emily stared.
“Claire?”
Benjamin nodded.
“She’s the reason I’m still alive.”
And before Adrian could ask another question, a woman’s voice came through the darkness outside.
Claire.
“Adrian!”
May you like
A gunshot followed.
Then Claire screamed Noah’s name.
