Chapter 6
Detective Bennett read the message twice.
“You’re not going alone.”
“If he sees police—”
“He expects police.”
“He said alone.”
“He also kidnapped a woman and held a child captive for eight months. We are not following his rules.”
My hands shook with rage.
“What key does he mean?”
“The brass key?”
“You have it.”
“The message suggests he believes you do.”
“Then give it back.”
“No.”
“Detective.”
“It is evidence.”
“Rachel is alive.”
“And we intend to keep her that way.”
I looked at the photograph again.
Rachel looked older.
Thinner.
There was a bruise near her temple.
But she was alive.
After seven years, the first real image I had of her was a hostage photograph.
“What did they find on the flash drive?”
“Financial records.”
“Enough to destroy Michael?”
“Potentially.”
“So that’s what he wants?”
Bennett shook her head.
“If he wanted the drive, he’d ask for the drive.”
“Then what does the key open?”
She looked at the evidence bag.
“Apparently box 317 wasn’t the final destination.”
I stared at her.
“What do you mean?”
“The brass key opened a smaller metal case inside the locker.”
“And?”
“Inside that case was another key.”
My pulse quickened.
“What kind?”
“A bank key.”
“Safe-deposit box?”
“Likely.”
“Where?”
“There was no bank name.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Rachel built a treasure hunt.”
“She built layers.”
“To keep Michael from finding everything.”
“That’s my guess.”
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
Bennett motioned to an officer.
They connected monitoring equipment.
Then she nodded.
I answered.
“Michael.”
A pause.
Then my brother’s voice.
“Danny.”
Nobody called me Danny anymore.
Hearing it from him made me feel twelve years old again.
“Let Rachel go.”
“You always skip the small talk.”
“You kidnapped my daughter.”
“Our daughter drama now?”
“Don’t call her that.”
He laughed.
“You didn’t even know she existed.”
“Because of you.”
“Because Rachel was weak.”
I clenched my jaw.
Bennett silently reminded me to keep him talking.
“Where are you?”
“Somewhere you won’t find before sunset.”
“Then what do you want?”
“The key.”
“What key?”
“Don’t insult me.”
“You mean the one from the locker?”
Silence.
Good.
He did not know about the second key.
“I know what was in box 317,” he said.
“Do you?”
“Rachel kept insurance.”
“Against you.”
“Against everyone.”
“What did you do to her?”
“She created problems.”
“So you locked her up?”
“I solved the problem.”
“And Lily?”
“Vanessa insisted.”
I glanced at Bennett.
She wrote something.
KEEP HIM TALKING.
“Vanessa blames you.”
That was a lie.
I did not know what Vanessa had said.
But Michael reacted.
“She would.”
“She says you planned everything.”
“Vanessa couldn’t plan breakfast.”
I heard movement in the background.
Metal.
Maybe a door.
“You chose her.”
“She was useful.”
“She became my wife.”
“Exactly.”
My stomach turned.
“Did she ever love me?”
Michael laughed.
“Does it matter?”
It did.
I hated that it did.
But I did not answer.
“What do you want me to bring?”
“The locker key.”
“Where?”
“I’ll text you.”
“And Rachel walks away?”
“If you behave.”
“Let me talk to her.”
“No.”
“I need proof she’s alive.”
“You got a photo.”
“A photo isn’t enough.”
Silence.
Then I heard breathing.
A woman’s voice.
“Daniel?”
Everything inside me stopped.
“Rachel.”
“Don’t—”
Her voice vanished.
Michael returned.
“Satisfied?”
“Michael, if you hurt her—”
“What? You’ll ruin me?”
His voice became cold.
“You already did.”
I frowned.
“What are you talking about?”
“You ruined my life the day Dad looked at you and realized you were worth more than me.”
There it was.
Not money.
Not really.
A wound twenty years old.
“Dad didn’t choose between us.”
“Yes, he did.”
“He died loving both of us.”
“You got the company.”
“I built my company.”
“You got his respect.”
“And you had his too.”
“No.”
Michael’s voice cracked for the first time.
“You got everything.”
The call ended.
Bennett immediately started issuing orders.
“Trace?”
An officer shook his head.
“Burner routed through multiple relays.”
I looked at Bennett.
“He’ll send a location.”
“Yes.”
“You’re letting me go.”
“We’ll use you.”
“That’s what I said.”
“No. It isn’t.”
Twenty minutes later, the location arrived.
An abandoned distribution warehouse south of the city.
Police surrounded the area from a distance.
I wore a wire.
Bennett hated the plan.
So did I.
But Michael had demanded me.
A tactical team stayed hidden.
The key in my pocket was not the real key.
Bennett kept that.
I carried a duplicate made by police.
At 5:21 p.m., I entered the warehouse.
Alone.
At least visibly.
The building smelled like dust and oil.
“Michael!”
My voice echoed.
No answer.
Then a light turned on.
Rachel was sitting on a chair fifty feet away.
Her hands were tied.
“Rachel.”
She looked up.
Our eyes met.
Seven years disappeared.
For one second, she was the woman in my old apartment laughing over burnt pizza.
Then I saw the fear.
“Daniel, leave.”
Michael stepped from behind a column.
Gun in hand.
“No emotional reunion?”
“Let her go.”
“The key.”
I held it up.
He smiled.
“Throw it.”
“You release her first.”
He pointed the gun at Rachel.
“Do not negotiate with me.”
I threw the key.
It landed halfway between us.
Michael walked toward it.
That was when Rachel shouted.
“He knows about the police!”
Michael spun and fired toward the ceiling.
“Come out!”
My heart stopped.
“How?”
Michael smiled.
“You still trust the wrong people.”
His phone buzzed.
He looked at it.
Then at me.
“Your team entered through the east door.”
My blood went cold.
Only police knew that entry point.
And Marcus.
Marcus had helped review the building plans.
Michael backed toward Rachel.
“You wore a wire.”
He raised the gun.
“Take it off.”
I ripped the transmitter from my shirt.
“Drop it.”
I did.
He crushed it under his shoe.
Then he grabbed Rachel.
“We’re leaving.”
“You won’t get out.”
“Watch me.”
A black SUV crashed through a side loading door.
Michael dragged Rachel toward it.
I ran.
He fired once.
The bullet struck metal beside me.
I kept going.
Police opened fire on the SUV’s tires.
The vehicle swerved.
Michael pushed Rachel inside.
Before he could climb in, another man jumped from the driver’s seat.
Marcus.
My head of security.
I stopped dead.
Marcus pointed his gun directly at me.
“I’m sorry, Daniel.”
Then Rachel did something none of us expected.
She kicked Michael behind the knee.
He fell.
The gun slid across the concrete.
I lunged.
Marcus fired.
Pain exploded through my shoulder.
I hit the ground.
Police stormed the warehouse.
Gunshots cracked.
People screamed.
Someone dragged me behind a forklift.
My vision blurred.
“Rachel!”
I saw her crawling.
Michael grabbed her ankle.
She kicked him again.
An officer tackled him.
Marcus sprinted toward the SUV.
He made it five steps.
Then a police dog took him down.
I lay on the concrete, blood soaking my shirt.
Rachel crawled toward me.
“Daniel.”
“I’m okay.”
“You’ve been shot.”
“I noticed.”
She laughed.
Then cried.
Then pressed both hands against my wound.
For the first time in seven years, we were close enough to touch.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“No.”
I looked at her.
“You tried to tell me.”
She shook her head.
“I should have tried harder.”
“And I should have found you.”
Sirens screamed outside.
Michael was dragged past us in handcuffs.
He looked at me.
No regret.
Only hatred.
“You think this ends with me?”
I stared at him.
“It ends with you in prison.”
He smiled.
“You still haven’t figured out Phase Two.”
Police pulled him away.
Rachel’s face changed.
“What did he say?”
“Phase Two.”
She went pale.
I noticed immediately.
“You know what that means.”
Rachel looked toward the warehouse doors.
“Daniel.”
“What?”
“Where are the girls?”
My heart stopped.
“At a secure house.”
“Whose secure house?”
“Police arranged it.”
“No.”
She grabbed my arm.
Pain shot through me.
“Daniel, listen to me.”
“What?”
“Phase Two was never about the money.”
“Then what is it?”
May you like
Rachel’s voice broke.
“It’s about Emma.”
