Chapter 5 - Lily’s Secret
The rain had stopped by 4:00 AM, replaced by a dense, clinging river fog that smothered the city streets in a suffocating white haze. Marcus’s vehicle—a battered, rust-streaked 2004 Ford Crown Victoria with an interceptor engine—rumpled through the dilapidated outskirts of the East District.
Marcus had tapped into the public school records using an old police database login he still possessed. There was only one child named Lily registered whose mother worked at Saint Jude’s Rest: Sarah Jenkins, a twenty-nine-year-old widow living in a low-rent garden apartment complex behind the freight train yards.
"Remember," Marcus said, keeping his eyes on the road, his headlights dimmed to amber parking lights. "We aren't the only ones looking for this address. If Miller ran the guest list or cross-referenced the catering staff, he already knows who brought that kid to the hotel."
We pulled into the cracked asphalt parking lot of the Oakridge Apartments. It was a miserable cluster of brown brick two-story buildings with exterior metal staircases and overflowing garbage dumpsters.
Halfway down the block, my heart seized.
Parked directly in front of Building C was a familiar black sedan with tinted windows. A man in a dark windbreaker sat in the driver's seat, the amber glow of a dashboard computer reflecting off his face.
"Miller’s boys," Marcus muttered, his hand dropping down between the seats to pull up a heavy, suppressed Colt .45. "They're already here."
"Are they inside?" I asked, a surge of protective fury rushing through me. Lily was just seven years old. She had looked at me with those pure, innocent eyes, risking everything to hand me that silver rose.
"Spotter outside means the grab team is already up the stairs," Marcus said, clicking the safety off. "We move fast, Daniel. This isn't a board meeting. If they draw down on us, you don't hesitate. You stay behind me, clear?"
"Give me something," I said.
Marcus glanced at me, saw the cold, unyielding iron in my eyes, and reached into the glove compartment. He slapped an old steel tire iron into my palm. "Hit low and hit hard."
We moved through the fog like phantoms. The driver of the sedan never saw Marcus approach. Marcus stepped up to the cracked driver-side window, reached in with a lightning-fast grip, wrapped a scarred forearm around the man's throat, and drove the butt of the Colt viciously into his temple. The spotter slumped over the steering wheel without uttering a single groan. Marcus reached in, snatched the car keys, and cut the engine.
"Upstairs. Apartment 204," Marcus whispered.
We took the metal stairs silently, stepping on the outer edges of the treads to avoid squeaking. When we reached the second-floor landing, the door to Apartment 204 was already slightly ajar. The brass latch had been sheared off with a pry bar; the wood around the frame was splintered.
Inside, the sounds of muffled weeping and violent ransacking leaked into the hallway.
"...I don't know where she went! I swear to God!" a woman was crying, her voice choked with sheer panic. "She just said she was going to the wedding! She didn't tell me where she was hiding!"
"Don't lie to me, Sarah," a cold, cultured voice replied. "You stole the keys to the laundry van. You signed out the visitor badge that let her slip through the service entrance. Dr. Sterling is very disappointed in you. And you know what happens to people who disappoint the doctor."
"Mommy!" Lily’s scream pierced through the thin walls.
I didn't wait for Marcus. The sound of that little girl screaming shattered whatever restraint I had left.
I kicked the splintered door open with the heel of my boot.
The scene inside was chaos. Couch cushions were ripped open, toys scattered across the linoleum, a floor lamp overturned. A burly man in an expensive gray suit was pinning a young woman against the kitchen counter, his hand wrapped in her hair. Near the hallway closet, a second man was dragging Lily by her arm, the little girl kicking and thrashing wildly.
The man holding Sarah turned, reaching for a holster under his armpit. "What the—"
I lunged forward, swinging the heavy tire iron with both hands. It connected with the side of his knee with a sickening, hollow *crack*. The man shrieked, his leg folding inward at an unnatural angle, and he collapsed onto the kitchen floor.
The second man let go of Lily and leveled a Glock straight at my chest.
*Crack!*
The suppressed gunshot from behind me sounded like a heavy whip snapping in the air. The shooter’s eyes widened; a neat, dark puncture appeared just above his left collarbone. He stumbled backward into the closet, knocking over a rack of winter coats, his gun clattering across the floor.
"Lily! Come here!" Sarah shrieked, scrambling across the floor and pulling the crying girl into her chest.
Marcus stepped into the apartment, the smoking muzzle of his Colt scanning the corners of the room. He walked over to the man I had crippled with the tire iron, who was squirming on the linoleum, clutching his shattered kneecap. Marcus pressed the steel muzzle directly between the man's eyes.
"One word," Marcus said softly. "Where did they take Eleanor Vance?"
The man spat blood onto the floor, glaring up with pain-crazed eyes. "Go to hell, Kane. You're dead. The judge already signed the warrant. You're both dead men walking."
Marcus didn't argue. He shifted the barrel down two inches and pulled the trigger. The bullet tore through the man's shoulder, pinning him to the floorboards. The man howled in agony.
"Next one goes through your hip," Marcus said without a shred of emotion. "Where is she?"
"The boathouse!" the man sobbed, completely breaking. "The Cross family boathouse on Lake Mercer! Sterling has a medical transport waiting there to take her across the state line to the facility in Vermont! They're moving her at dawn!"
Marcus nodded once, then reversed the pistol and brought the heavy brass grip down onto the man's jaw, knocking him out cold.
I knelt beside Sarah and Lily. The little girl was shaking violently, but when she saw my face, she threw her tiny arms around my neck, burying her face into my shredded tuxedo shirt.
"Mister Daniel," she sobbed. "I gave it to you. I did what the lady said."
"You did perfectly, Lily," I whispered, holding the child close, my heart breaking for the terror she had endured. "You saved my life. I promise you, you're safe now."
Sarah looked at me with wild, terrified eyes. "You're Daniel Vance? Mrs. Vance... she talked about you every single day. When the sedatives wore off, she would just hold that picture of you as a baby. She knew they were going to kill you, Mr. Vance. She spent two years pretending to be comatose just waiting for one slip-up from the guards."
"We need to get you and your daughter out of here," Marcus said, grabbing a duffel bag from the closet and tossing it to Sarah. "Pack clothes. Ten minutes. I have a safehouse across the river. My associates will smuggle you out of the county."
Sarah didn't ask questions. She nodded frantically, grabbing Lily’s hand and rushing toward the bedroom.
I stood up, wiping a smear of blood from my forehead. I looked through the cracked window toward the eastern horizon. The sky was beginning to turn from pitch-black to a pale, bruised purple.
Lake Mercer was forty-five minutes away.
"Dawn is in one hour, Marcus," I said.
Marcus checked the magazine of his .45, slapping it back into the well with a sharp, decisive click.
May you like
"Then we'd better drive fast," he said.
***
