Chapter 5 - The Price of a Father's Secret
Elena didn't scream.
She became very still.
Adrian recognized that reaction.
It frightened him more.
“Give me the phone.”
“No.”
“Elena.”
“No.”
She walked toward Evan.
“Give me my father's key.”
“Absolutely not.”
“My brother is tied to a chair.”
“And whoever has him wants this.”
“Exactly.”
“That means we don't hand it over.”
Elena grabbed his coat.
“You don't get to gamble with Mateo.”
Rosa was crying.
Madison stood beside her.
Adrian approached Elena slowly.
“We'll get him back.”
“You don't know that.”
“No.”
His honesty stopped her.
“I don't,” he continued. “But going alone gets both of you killed.”
She looked at him.
“You don't know my brother.”
“No.”
“You don't owe him anything.”
“No.”
“Then why are you helping?”
Adrian glanced at the bracelet around her wrist.
“Because six years ago you didn't owe Lucia anything either.”
Elena couldn't answer.
Evan traced the coordinates.
An abandoned Whitmore property in Red Hook.
Building Seventeen.
Her father's old workplace.
Of course.
Marcus assembled a plan.
Police involvement was complicated.
If Victor had people inside law enforcement, alerting the wrong department could destroy everything.
Evan contacted Lucia.
She contacted her federal handler.
Within forty minutes, a tactical team was positioned several blocks from Building Seventeen.
Elena was furious when told she would remain behind.
“I received the message.”
“And that's exactly why you're staying here,” Adrian said.
“They asked for me.”
“Yes.”
“If I don't appear, Mateo dies.”
Evan interrupted.
“We'll make you appear.”
They used Elena's phone to respond.
I'M COMING.
The answer arrived immediately.
ALONE.
At 5:16 a.m., a black SUV approached Building Seventeen.
Elena sat in the passenger seat.
Adrian drove.
“This is not alone.”
“You get out two blocks away.”
“That wasn't the plan.”
“It is now.”
He looked at her.
“You're impossible.”
“So I've heard.”
At the designated intersection, Adrian stopped.
Before Elena could move, he locked the doors.
She glared.
“Seriously?”
“Listen.”
“No.”
“Thirty seconds.”
She folded her arms.
“Twenty.”
“Marcus has eyes on the building. Federal agents are positioned nearby. You go in, you keep them talking. You don't try rescuing Mateo yourself.”
“Fifteen seconds.”
“Elena.”
“Ten.”
He reached into his jacket and handed her a small transmitter.
“Put this inside your vest.”
She did.
“Anything goes wrong, say Saint Catherine's.”
“That's the signal?”
“Yes.”
“Very subtle.”
“That's the idea.”
She opened the door.
Adrian said her name.
Elena looked back.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then he said, “Come back.”
She nodded once.
Building Seventeen had been abandoned for years.
Windows boarded.
Brick blackened.
Old loading doors rusted shut.
Elena entered through a side door.
The smell hit her immediately.
Oil.
Dust.
Rotting wood.
Her father's workplace.
She imagined Miguel walking these corridors.
Holding a flashlight.
Finding gasoline.
Realizing someone planned to burn a building with families still upstairs.
“Mateo?”
Her voice echoed.
Nothing.
She walked deeper.
A light switched on.
Mateo sat beneath it.
Bound.
Alive.
“Lena!”
She moved toward him.
Charles Whitmore stepped from behind a pillar.
“Stop.”
Elena stopped.
Charles looked nothing like the frightened father-of-the-bride from earlier.
His tuxedo jacket was gone.
Sleeves rolled.
A pistol hung loosely in one hand.
“You ruined a beautiful wedding.”
Elena stared at him.
“You kidnapped my brother.”
“I've had worse mornings.”
“Let him go.”
“The key.”
“Let him go first.”
Charles smiled.
“You have your father's stubbornness.”
“You knew him.”
“Briefly.”
“You killed him.”
Charles's smile disappeared.
“No.”
“Someone poisoned his medication.”
“I know.”
“Who?”
“The same man who's trying to kill me.”
“Victor Moretti.”
Charles looked impressed.
“So we're finally catching up.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“You shouldn't.”
Good answer.
Elena reached into her pocket.
The key.
Charles's eyes followed it.
“What does it open?”
“A box containing evidence your father collected.”
“Where?”
“That's what I need the key to discover.”
Elena almost laughed.
“You kidnapped Mateo without knowing?”
“Your father was annoyingly cautious.”
Mateo shouted, “Don't give him anything!”
Charles raised the pistol.
Elena froze.
“Don't.”
Mateo went silent.
Charles lowered the weapon.
“I don't want to hurt either of you.”
“You have an unusual way of demonstrating that.”
“I needed leverage.”
“For what?”
“Protection.”
“From Victor?”
“From everyone.”
Charles looked tired.
“My daughter thinks I'm a monster.”
“Aren't you?”
“Yes.”
The answer surprised Elena.
“I bought buildings. I bribed inspectors. I displaced families. I covered up Victor's crimes because they made me rich.”
“And the fires?”
“I authorized the first.”
Elena felt sick.
“People died.”
“I was told the building was empty.”
“But it wasn't.”
“No.”
“And afterward?”
“I wanted out.”
“You kept making money.”
“Yes.”
Elena shook her head.
“You don't get redemption because your partner became scarier than you.”
“I don't want redemption.”
Charles looked at Mateo.
“I want to live long enough to testify.”
“Then why kidnap him?”
“Because Victor has Lucia.”
Elena's blood ran cold.
“No.”
“He took her thirty minutes ago.”
“You said she was following you.”
“She was. Victor's people intercepted her.”
Elena thought of Adrian.
“He knows?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because Victor wants Adrian next.”
Charles moved closer.
“The key.”
Elena held it tightly.
“You still haven't told me why.”
“Your father's evidence is the only proof Victor can't explain away.”
“What evidence?”
Charles looked toward the ceiling.
“A recording.”
Elena stared.
“Of what?”
“Victor ordering Miguel Ramirez's death.”
Silence.
Mateo stopped struggling.
Elena could hear her heartbeat.
“You heard it?”
“I was there.”
“And you did nothing.”
Charles's eyes lowered.
“No.”
Elena wanted to hate him.
She did hate him.
But hatred wouldn't free Mateo.
“Untie my brother.”
“Key first.”
“Mateo first.”
A sound came from behind them.
A door.
Charles turned.
Too late.
A gunshot cracked through the warehouse.
Charles fell.
Elena screamed.
Mateo shouted.
A man emerged from the shadows.
Not Adrian.
Victor Moretti.
Sixty-seven.
Silver suit.
Calm eyes.
Adrian's uncle looked at Charles bleeding on the concrete.
Then at Elena.
“You really do resemble your father.”
Elena backed away.
Victor smiled.
“Give me the key.”
She shook her head.
“Then perhaps you'll need encouragement.”
He snapped his fingers.
Two men dragged someone through the doorway.
A blonde woman.
Bruised.
Blood on her lip.
Adrian's sister.
Lucia looked at Elena.
Recognition flooded her face.
“Elena?”
May you like
Victor raised his gun.
“Now,” he said, “we can finally finish what your father started.”
