Chapter 4 - The Hunt Begins
The silence that followed Julian’s voice was suffocating.
Maya buried her face into the fabric of my sweater, her tiny hands trembling against my ribs. Baby Leo let out a soft, plaintive whimper in my arms, and my heart nearly stopped. I pressed him closer, gently rocking him, praying to whatever higher power existed that the baby would not cry.
Victoria moved with lightning speed. She crossed the floor, pulled a wool horse blanket from the rack, and threw it over my shoulders.
"He knows they aren't in the nursery," Victoria breathed, her eyes darting toward the carriage house windows. "The moment he checks the sub-basement cameras and sees the dog pen open, the perimeter alarms will trigger. We have six minutes before his private security team seals the front gates with pneumatic locks."
"Where is the hard drive?" I demanded, grasping Victoria's arm. "If Clara died for it, if these kids were kept alive for it, that drive is our only shield. We go to the press. We go to the Department of Justice."
Victoria looked down at Maya. The little girl lifted her head, her face pale in the moonlight.
"Mommy Clara gave me a silver music box," Maya whispered, her voice barely audible over the rustle of the autumn wind outside. "The one with the dancing ballerina. She said never to open the velvet bottom until Aunt Natalie came for me."
My breath hitched. The silver music box. It was an antique our grandmother had given to Clara on her sixteenth birthday.
"Where is it, Maya?" I asked, kneeling until my eyes were level with hers.
"In the old greenhouse," Maya said. "Beneath the stone bench with the carved angel. I buried it there the week they brought me to this house, before the bad men locked me in the white room."
"The greenhouse is on the north ridge," Victoria interrupted, shaking her head in panic. "It’s completely exposed. Julian’s guards patrol the perimeter path every ten minutes."
"Then we divide his attention," I said, my voice hardening. "You go back to the main house. Act like you were looking for him. Tell him you saw an intruder running toward the private boat dock on the lake."
"He’ll kill me if he figures it out," Victoria whispered, her hands shaking as she touched the dark bruise on her chest.
"He’s going to kill you anyway the moment that plane takes off from Teterboro," I retorted. "You know too much, Victoria. He brought an assassin tonight, not just a broker. That man in the navy suit didn't look like a bureaucrat. He moved like a soldier."
A flicker of cold reality settled over Victoria’s features. She straightened her posture, pulling the torn satin fabric over her shoulder, smoothing down her hair with icy resolve. For a brief second, the terrified socialite vanished, replaced by a woman who had survived years inside a viper’s nest.
"The greenhouse has a side door covered in English ivy," she said crisply. "Take the maintenance path along the irrigation ditch. It stays below the motion sensors. Once you have the drive, head for the northern gate. The utility lock is broken—I jammed a copper wire into the sensor box yesterday. You can push it open."
"What about you?" I asked.
Victoria reached into the drawer of the workbench and pulled out a small, chrome snub-nosed revolver. She checked the cylinder with practiced efficiency and slid it into the hidden folds of her evening skirt.
"I’m going to make sure my husband gets the divorce he truly deserves," she said.
May you like
Before I could reply, the floodlights on the main lawn flared with blinding intensity. Sirens began to wail—a rhythmic, deafening shriek that tore the night apart.
***
