Chapter 6 - The House Beneath the Fire
By the time we reached Cedar Street, flames had consumed most of the roof.
Firefighters surrounded the house.
Neighbors watched from lawns in their nightclothes.
Mara pushed through the police line, identifying herself as a state investigator.
The fire chief stopped her.
“You cannot enter.”
“There is evidence beneath the kitchen floor.”
“There won’t be a kitchen in five minutes.”
Jax took one look at the rear wall.
“The basement window is clear.”
“No,” the chief said.
But Eli and Jax were already moving.
I grabbed Eli’s arm.
“You cannot go in there.”
“If that ledger burns, Pike wins.”
“You could die.”
His eyes held mine.
“Would it matter to you?”
The question broke something inside me.
I placed both hands against his face.
“Yes.”
He froze.
“It would matter more than I know how to explain.”
For a moment, the fire and shouting disappeared.
Then he nodded.
“I’ll come back.”
He and Jax entered through the basement window wearing wet blankets supplied by an angry firefighter who had finally accepted that stopping them would waste more time.
Every second stretched.
Smoke rolled from the windows.
The roof over the rear porch collapsed.
I stood beside Mara, gripping the brass key.
“Which one of us do you think is Emma?” she asked.
I looked at her.
“I don’t know.”
“You must have a feeling.”
“I felt something when I saw you.”
“Because your mother shouted my name.”
“Because your eyes looked familiar.”
She looked toward the flames.
“So do Celeste Pike’s. I have seen her photographs.”
“Blood does not always announce itself.”
“Neither does love.”
The words contained more pain than accusation.
I understood that Mara was preparing herself to be disappointed.
Before I could answer, Eli emerged from the basement window carrying a metal box.
Jax followed moments later.
The kitchen floor collapsed behind them.
Firefighters dragged them clear.
I ran to Eli.
Soot covered his face, and the sleeve of his shirt had burned through near his wrist.
But he was alive.
“You came back.”
“I said I would.”
Jax placed the box on the grass.
The brass key fit the lock.
Inside we found a leather ledger, seven sealed envelopes, a cassette tape, and a stack of photographs.
The first photograph showed my mother standing beside Rosa Alvarez.
Rosa was pregnant.
My mother held a newborn baby wrapped in a blue blanket.
On the back, someone had written:
SAMUEL—SAFE FOR ONE NIGHT.
The next photograph showed Silas Rourke holding the same baby at the bus station.
The third showed Luis Velez carrying an infant girl toward his patrol car.
The fourth showed Dr. Adrian Pike standing beside a woman in an expensive fur coat.
The woman was handing him an envelope.
Mara recognized her.
“Margaret Ashford. She founded the Ashford Children’s Trust.”
I knew the name.
The trust had arranged private adoptions across three states.
Celeste Pike currently served as its president.
We opened the ledger.
Each page listed a date, a mother’s name, a false death certificate number, and an amount of money.
My name appeared beside two entries.
BABY BOY BENNETT—TRANSFER INTERRUPTED.
BABY GIRL BENNETT—DELIVERED TO A. PIKE.
Eli read the words in silence.
“Transferred to whom?” I asked.
The buyer’s name had been scratched out.
Below it was a note in my mother’s handwriting.
Silas removed the boy before payment. Pike believes Evelyn took him.
That explained the bus station.
My mother had not abandoned Eli.
Silas had rescued him.
The entry for the girl contained a second note.
Identity uncertain after bracelet exchange. Luis took one child. Pike retained the other.
Mara opened the sealed envelopes.
Each carried a name and a lock of infant hair.
SAMUEL BENNETT.
EMMA BENNETT.
INFANT ALVAREZ.
The fourth envelope was empty.
Its label read CELESTE PIKE.
Someone had removed the sample.
Mara looked at my mother.
“Did Adrian know you kept these?”
“He suspected.”
“Why didn’t you go to the police?”
“I tried.”
“What happened?”
My mother looked toward Jax.
“Ask him about Sheriff Cole.”
Jax’s face hardened.
“My father.”
Cole, the youngest biker, looked up sharply.
“Your father was the sheriff?”
Jax nodded.
“He died when I was twenty-four.”
“He was part of the network,” Evelyn said.
“No.”
“He protected Pike.”
Jax stepped toward her.
“My father was not perfect, but he was not a child trafficker.”
“He buried Rosa’s body.”
The words landed heavily.
Jax stared at her.
“My father told me Rosa left town.”
“He helped Pike create that story.”
“Why would he do it?”
“Because Pike owned him.”
Jax’s hands curled into fists.
Eli stood between them.
“Where is Rosa buried?”
My mother pointed toward the photographs.
One image showed St. Catherine’s old chapel.
A blue cross had been drawn beneath the east window.
“Under the chapel floor,” she said.
Mara photographed every ledger page and transmitted copies to her supervisor.
“This is enough to reopen dozens of cases.”
“Only if you live long enough to testify,” my mother warned.
A black sports utility vehicle stopped across the street.
Two men stepped out.
Jax recognized one immediately.
“Federal agents.”
The men approached and displayed credentials.
Special Agent Warren Blake took control of the ledger.
Mara objected.
“This is my investigation.”
“It crossed state lines decades ago. It is federal now.”
He placed the evidence in a sealed bag.
My mother began shaking.
“Do not give it to him.”
Blake looked at her.
“Mrs. Bennett, we are here to protect you.”
“You worked for Adrian.”
“I was nine years old when these crimes occurred.”
“Your father worked for him.”
Blake’s expression sharpened.
“My father was a federal prosecutor.”
“He closed the original investigation.”
Blake signaled his partner.
“We need to transport Mrs. Bennett to a secure medical facility.”
Mara moved in front of my mother.
“She stays with us until I verify your orders.”
Blake sighed.
Then drew his gun.
His partner did the same.
The firefighters continued working only thirty yards away, unaware of the confrontation.
“Everyone step back,” Blake ordered.
Jax reached slowly toward his vest.
Blake aimed at his chest.
“Do not.”
Eli shifted closer to me.
Agent Blake took the key from my hand and the metal box from the grass.
“You should have let the house burn.”
Mara’s voice remained calm.
“You sent the message from Pike’s number.”
“No. Dr. Pike sent it himself.”
“So he is alive.”
Blake smiled.
“He has been waiting thirty-two years to see which daughter comes home.”
A shot cracked from the darkness.
Blake’s partner fell.
Blake spun toward the trees.
Mara tackled him.
Jax seized the evidence box.
Eli pulled me behind a fire engine.
More shots followed.
Then a black sedan raced past the burning house.
Thomas Grady leaned through the passenger window, firing toward the agents.
“He’s helping us?” I shouted.
“No,” Eli said. “He’s taking the ledger.”
Grady jumped from the moving vehicle, grabbed the evidence bag, and ran through the smoke.
Cole chased him.
They disappeared behind the burning house.
Seconds later, only Cole returned.
His lip was split and one hand was empty.
“He got away.”
“What about the ledger?” Mara asked.
Cole’s expression was grim.
“Gone.”
Agent Blake lay handcuffed on the ground.
Mara searched his pockets.
She found a telephone displaying one unsent message.
The recipient was saved as FATHER.
Mara opened the conversation.
The previous message had arrived ten minutes earlier.
BRING EVELYN AND BOTH CHILDREN TO ST. CATHERINE’S.
Blake had replied:
ONLY ONE DAUGHTER IS HERE.
May you like
The answer came immediately.
NO. CELESTE IS ALREADY WAITING.
