Chapter 3 - The Three-Year-Old Witness
By seven the next morning, I had slept twenty-three minutes.
At eight, Vivienne came downstairs dressed for a charity committee breakfast.
She kissed my cheek.
“You look terrible.”
“Thanks.”
“Did you sleep?”
“Not much.”
She gave me a sympathetic expression.
“Because of Bruno?”
I looked directly into her eyes.
“Yes.”
Her gaze held mine.
“Maybe we should call the shelters again.”
“Good idea.”
“I can do that.”
“No. I’ll handle it.”
Something cold moved behind her smile.
Then she left.
I waited until her Mercedes disappeared beyond the front gates before calling Maria.
She arrived fifteen minutes later with Sofia.
The little girl clutched a stuffed rabbit.
Maria looked terrified.
“You said I wasn’t in trouble.”
“You aren’t.”
Ethan joined us in the breakfast room.
I introduced him as an old friend.
Sofia immediately climbed onto a chair and asked for juice.
I poured it myself.
That seemed to make Maria even more nervous.
“Mr. Vale,” she said, “Sofia is very young. Sometimes children mix dreams and real things.”
“Did she dream about the black car?”
Maria’s lips parted.
I waited.
Finally, she shook her head.
“No.”
“What did she see?”
Maria glanced toward Sofia.
The child was making the rabbit drink orange juice.
“I was finishing the downstairs laundry,” Maria said quietly. “Sofia was coloring in the kitchen. Bruno was with her.”
“What time?”
“A little before ten.”
“What happened?”
“Miss Vivienne came into the kitchen.”
I leaned forward.
“With anyone?”
“No.”
“What did she do?”
“She told me I could leave early.”
“That’s unusual?”
“Very.”
“Did you?”
Maria swallowed.
“No. The rain was heavy, and I wanted to finish folding the linens.”
“Did Vivienne know you stayed?”
“I don’t think so.”
Ethan asked, “Where was Sofia?”
“I thought she was in the staff lounge watching cartoons. But she went looking for Bruno.”
Sofia looked up when she heard his name.
“Bruno was sleepy.”
I crouched beside her.
“Was he?”
She nodded.
“Very sleepy.”
“Did you see him eat something?”
Another nod.
“Chicken.”
Maria closed her eyes.
I felt anger rise behind my ribs.
“Who gave him chicken?”
Sofia looked toward the front hallway as though expecting someone to appear.
Then she whispered, “Pretty lady.”
Maria immediately said, “Sofia—”
“It’s okay.”
The child looked at me.
“Pretty lady gave Bruno chicken. Bruno fell down.”
Every muscle in my body tightened.
Ethan asked softly, “Then what happened?”
Sofia pointed at the window.
“Man came.”
“What man?”
“Big man.”
“Did you know him?”
She shook her head.
“Hair?”
She touched her own head.
“Yellow?”
“Blonde?”
She nodded.
Julian Cross was blond.
“Did Bruno walk?”
“No.”
“How did they move him?”
Sofia slid off the chair.
She demonstrated by wrapping both arms around her stuffed rabbit and pretending to lift.
“Two.”
“Two men?”
“One man. Pretty lady.”
My hand closed around the edge of the table.
Vivienne.
Not just lying afterward.
Helping.
Sofia continued.
“They put Bruno in car.”
“Black car?”
“Yes.”
“Did Bruno wake up?”
“No.”
“What happened next?”
She frowned, concentrating.
“Lady said bad word.”
Despite everything, Ethan almost smiled.
“What bad word?”
Maria shook her head.
“You don’t need to repeat it.”
Sofia ignored her mother.
“She said, ‘Damn remote.’”
Ethan and I exchanged a look.
The missing study remote.
“What happened with the remote?” I asked.
“She dropped.”
“Where?”
Sofia pointed toward the back.
“Outside.”
The silver clasp wasn’t the only thing that might have fallen.
We searched the gravel near the gate for an hour.
Nothing.
Then Sofia came outside wearing a little red coat.
She stood beside the fountain and pointed not toward the gate, but toward a drainage ditch.
“There.”
Ethan walked over.
He used gloves to reach between wet leaves.
When he straightened, he was holding something black.
The missing remote.
One corner was cracked.
But it was intact.
Vivienne had apparently dropped it while loading Bruno, then retrieved it afterward—or tried to.
Except the remote in Ethan’s hand had mud packed beneath the buttons.
It had been there all night.
“How did the gate open if this never left the ditch?” I asked.
Ethan examined the casing.
Then he pried it open.
Inside was no battery.
No transmitter.
Nothing.
It was empty.
“A shell,” he said.
“What?”
“Someone removed the electronics and put them in another housing.”
“Why?”
“So if you found this, you’d think the remote was recovered and unusable.”
“Then the transmitter is still with whoever took Bruno.”
Ethan nodded.
Maria whispered, “Mr. Vale, I’m sorry.”
I turned.
“For what?”
“I should have told you before.”
“Why didn’t you?”
She looked at her daughter.
“Because Miss Vivienne came to me yesterday morning.”
My anger went quiet again.
“What did she say?”
“That Sofia was confused. She said children can cause trouble when adults encourage stories.”
“Did she threaten you?”
Maria’s eyes filled.
“She reminded me that my work visa is sponsored through one of your companies.”
I stood so quickly the chair scraped backward.
“She threatened your immigration status?”
“She didn’t say it exactly.”
“She didn’t have to.”
“No.”
I walked to the window.
Vivienne knew Maria depended on this job.
She had used that fear to silence her.
Behind me, Sofia was petting Bruno’s empty bed.
Then she looked up.
“Mr. Adrian?”
“Yes?”
“Bruno cried.”
The words hit harder than they should have.
“When?”
“When car took him.”
I closed my eyes.
“What did he do?”
“He woke up.”
My stomach dropped.
Sofia pointed toward her own mouth.
“He tried to bark.”
Then she added something none of us expected.
“The man said, ‘Shut him up before Adrian gets home.’”
Ethan’s face changed.
“What exactly did he say?”
Sofia repeated it.
“Before Adrian gets home.”
I looked at Ethan.
My Chicago trip had ended a day earlier than planned.
Only six people knew.
Vivienne.
My assistant.
My pilot.
Two executives.
And Caleb Shaw.
Which meant this wasn’t merely about removing Bruno.
They had been working against a deadline.
My return.
Whatever they were planning, they needed Bruno gone before I came back.
Ethan’s phone rang.
He listened for less than thirty seconds.
Then his expression became grim.
“That was my analyst.”
“What did he find?”
“The phone that sent the pictures is moving.”
“Where?”
“Not Bruno.”
“How do you know?”
“Because it just connected to a tower six blocks from here.”
I looked toward the road.
“Someone is watching us?”
“Maybe.”
Then a dark sedan passed beyond the front gates.
Sofia saw it through the window.
Her juice glass slipped from her hand.
It shattered across the floor.
She pointed.
May you like
“That car.”
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