Chapter 7 - THE MAN WITH THE CROWN
Vincent pulled the curtains shut.
“Everyone away from the windows.”
Leo slipped off his chair.
I took his hand and led him behind the counter.
Marco stared at his phone.
“I didn't send that.”
“Then who did?” Vincent asked.
Marco swallowed.
“My number was cloned last month.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I thought it was a billing problem.”
Vincent's expression did not soften.
The attendant opened a back closet.
“There's a cellar,” he said.
“Storm shelter. Take the boy.”
We climbed down narrow wooden stairs.
The cellar smelled of dust and old apples.
Leo sat on a folded cot.
I tucked a blanket around his shoulders.
“Emma,” he whispered.
“Are we going to die?”
My throat tightened.
“No one is giving up on you.”
It wasn't a promise I could guarantee.
It was the truth I could offer.
He held Arthur close.
“I think Mom knew this would happen.”
“What makes you say that?”
“She made me practice hiding.”
I sat beside him.
“Where?”
“Under her sewing table.”
“Did she say why?”
“She called it our secret game.”
Leo stared at the bear's missing eye.
“She said the best hiding places look ordinary.”
I turned Arthur over.
The blue paw was patched with darker fabric.
I had assumed it was a repair.
Now I wasn't sure.
I felt along the seam.
Something round pressed against my thumb.
A tiny metal disk.
I carefully opened the loose stitches.
Inside was a brass washer with three notches.
No writing.
No obvious purpose.
Leo smiled through his tears.
“That's Mom's moon.”
“Her moon?”
“She said it belonged in the sky.”
Above us, footsteps crossed the floor.
A chair scraped.
Then a man's voice called down.
“Emma Brooks.”
My blood ran cold.
The voice belonged to Thomas Reed.
“I know you're down there.”
Leo covered his mouth.
I drew him behind the water heater.
Thomas spoke again.
“Your sister is waiting for you.”
My heart lurched.
“Lily?” I called before I could stop myself.
A pause.
Then Thomas laughed.
“She misses you.”
I nearly climbed the stairs.
Leo caught my sleeve.
“Emma, don't.”
His eyes were wide.
“He sounds like the man from Mom's car.”
I stared at him.
“Are you sure?”
Leo nodded.
“I remember his laugh.”
A heavy crash sounded overhead.
Vincent shouted.
Then two gunshots.
Silence.
I counted my breaths.
One.
Two.
Three.
The cellar door opened.
Vincent appeared, bleeding from his forehead.
“Come on.”
“Where's Thomas?”
“Gone.”
“Marco?”
Vincent looked away.
“He stayed behind.”
We climbed into the night.
The attendant's truck waited beside the building.
Its engine was running.
I climbed into the back with Leo.
Vincent took the wheel.
We drove through a stand of pines.
No one spoke until the ranger station disappeared.
Then Vincent handed me a phone.
Lily's face filled the screen.
She was sitting in a police station.
Two women stood behind her.
“Emma?” she said.
I started crying.
“Are you safe?”
“I'm okay. They got me out.”
“Don't go anywhere alone.”
“I won't.”
She hesitated.
“Emma, someone told the police you kidnapped a child.”
My stomach dropped.
“Who?”
“They showed me your picture.”
Vincent glanced toward me.
Lily continued.
“They said you were working with Daniel Caruso.”
The accusation was absurd.
It was also dangerous.
If police believed it, they could separate me from Leo.
Vincent took the phone.
“Lily, this is Vincent.”
He gave her a lawyer's number.
Then he ended the call.
“Daniel's making you the scapegoat,” he said.
“Why me?”
“Because Leo trusts you.”
I looked at the boy.
He had fallen asleep against Arthur.
I felt anger rise through my fear.
Eleven months of laundry.
Eleven months of bedtime stories.
Eleven months of telling a frightened child he mattered.
And someone wanted to turn that into a crime.
Vincent pulled into an abandoned service yard.
He opened a metal storage shed.
Inside stood a second vehicle.
A battered green SUV.
“Who owns this?” I asked.
“Isabella did.”
I stared at him.
“I thought her car was destroyed.”
“This wasn't her car.”
He touched the hood.
“She bought it when she started asking questions.”
“Did you know?”
“No.”
His voice broke.
“I didn't know half her life.”
We transferred our bags.
As I lifted Leo, Arthur slipped from his arms.
The brass washer fell onto the concrete.
It rolled beneath the SUV.
I crouched to retrieve it.
There, beneath the rear bumper, was a faded sticker.
A moon with three notches.
Exactly like the washer.
I called Vincent over.
He knelt beside me.
Then he pressed the washer against the sticker.
A hidden magnetic latch clicked.
A compartment opened under the vehicle.
Inside was a sealed envelope.
Vincent unfolded its contents.
The first page was a birth certificate.
The mother's name was Isabella Caruso.
The child's name was not Leo.
May you like
It was a girl.
And her date of birth was only six months after Isabella's supposed death.
