Chapter 4 - The White GlovesThe woman disappeared before Stone could reach the building.
He sprinted through the smoke anyway.
Jax grabbed his shoulder.
“Stone! It's going up!”
Stone shoved him away.
“I saw her.”
“You'll die in there.”
Stone stopped.
Through the shattered window, he saw white fabric vanish behind a curtain of fire.
Then an explosion rocked the second floor.
Stone stumbled backward.
Flames burst from the windows.
He was forced outside.
Fire crews arrived minutes later.
By then, Room 17 was gone.
The children were taken to the clubhouse.
Mara sat wrapped in a blanket.
Clara refused to let go of her hand.
Noah sat opposite Stone.
“Was she there before?”
Stone asked.
Noah nodded.
“She came into Room 17.”
“What did she say?”
“She asked Victor where the card was.”
Stone leaned forward.
“What did he say?”
“He said, ‘The boy has it.’”
“And then?”
“She looked at me.”
Noah swallowed.
“She said, ‘Then he'll lead us to it.’”
Stone’s eyes hardened.
Jax entered.
“Fire department says it started with accelerant.”
“Of course it did.”
“There’s more.”
Jax placed a burned object on the table.
A small metal box.
Stone opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
Mara Whitmore, seven years earlier, standing beside Victor Hale.
Stone looked up.
Mara had gone pale.
“You knew him.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Mara looked at the children.
“They saved me once.”
“Who?”
“Victor.”
Stone waited.
Mara’s voice trembled.
“I was twenty-five. I was working for a company owned by a man named Elias Voss.”
Jax stopped moving.
Stone knew the name.
Everyone in the county did.
Elias Voss owned trucking companies, warehouses, restaurants, construction firms.
Publicly, he was a respected businessman.
Privately, rumors followed him like shadows.
“What happened?” Stone asked.
Mara stared at the table.
“I discovered money was being moved through shell companies.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
“You kept records?”
“Yes.”
“Where are they?”
Mara shook her head.
“I destroyed them.”
Noah suddenly spoke.
“You didn't.”
Mara looked at him.
Noah's eyes filled with tears.
“You hid them.”
Stone turned to the boy.
“How do you know?”
“Because I saw them.”
Mara stood abruptly.
“Noah.”
He looked at her.
“You told me never to touch the blue box.”
Silence.
Stone slowly asked:
“Where is the blue box?”
Mara closed her eyes.
“In our house.”
Jax frowned.
“Why didn't the men take it?”
“Because they don't know where it is.”
Stone stood.
“We go there now.”
Mara shook her head.
“It isn't safe.”
“Neither is here.”
They loaded into three motorcycles and one SUV.
The Whitmore house sat fifteen miles outside town.
A small white farmhouse surrounded by fields.
When they arrived, the front door was open.
Stone drew his weapon.
“Stay behind me.”
They entered.
Everything looked normal.
Too normal.
Then Clara pointed toward the kitchen.
“My teddy bear.”
It sat on the floor.
Its stomach had been cut open.
Stuffing spilled across the tile.
Clara ran toward it.
Stone stopped her.
“No.”
He crouched.
Something was inside.
A tiny GPS tracker.
Jax looked up.
“They've been watching the house.”
Stone stood.
“Who?”
A window shattered.
A bullet punched through the wall.
Stone grabbed Clara.
Another bullet struck the refrigerator.
“DOWN!”
They hit the floor.
Jax fired toward the tree line.
A vehicle engine roared.
Stone raced outside.
A dark pickup tore down the road.
He could see the driver.
Victor Hale.
But Victor wasn't alone.
The woman in white gloves sat beside him.
Stone raised his weapon.
He almost fired.
Then he noticed the passenger window.
The woman held a photograph against the glass.
A photograph of Clara.
Stone lowered his gun.
The pickup disappeared.
Jax came running.
“What happened?”
Stone stared at the empty road.
“They don't want the ledger anymore.”
“Then what do they want?”
May you like
Stone looked back toward the house.
“They want Clara.”
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