Chapter 4 - Six HoursWe had six hours.
No police.
No backup.
No certainty about who we could trust.
Eleanor drove.
Clara sat beside her.
I sat in the back with the photograph open on my phone.
My mother's face filled the screen.
She looked older.
Thin.
Tired.
But alive.
I zoomed in.
The room behind her was almost completely dark.
A window.
A lamp.
A wooden staircase.
And something on the wall.
A painting.
Clara turned.
“What are you looking at?”
“The painting.”
She leaned closer.
Then she stopped breathing.
“What?”
“That building.”
“What building?”
“The old Mercer estate.”
I looked again.
“You're sure?”
“Yes.”
“The original house?”
“It was demolished fifteen years ago.”
“Then whoever has your mother is using a replica.”
Clara's eyes narrowed.
“No.”
She grabbed the phone.
“That isn't a replica.”
“What is it?”
“The underground level.”
My blood chilled.
“The house had an underground level?”
“Three.”
Eleanor looked into the rearview mirror.
“Where?”
Clara gave her directions.
Forty minutes later we arrived at a deserted stretch of land outside the city.
There was no mansion.
Only an abandoned greenhouse.
Clara stepped out.
“This was the old garden.”
She walked toward a stone wall.
Then she stopped.
“There.”
A rusted metal door was hidden behind vines.
Eleanor pulled it open.
Cold air rushed out.
We descended.
The corridor was narrow.
At the end was a steel door.
A keypad.
I tried the flash drive.
Nothing.
Clara examined the keypad.
“Four digits.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
“Your mother always used dates.”
I thought.
My birthday.
No.
My father's.
No.
Then I remembered something.
The silver moon necklace.
My mother had once whispered to me:
“When you are afraid, remember the night we saw the moon disappear.”
A childhood memory surfaced.
There had been an eclipse.
The date.
I entered it.
Click.
The door opened.
Inside was a small room.
Empty.
Except for a chair.
And a bloodstain.
My heart dropped.
“No.”
Clara ran forward.
She found a piece of fabric.
My mother's scarf.
Eleanor's phone rang.
She answered.
Her face changed.
“What?”
She listened.
Then looked at me.
“They found the federal agent.”
“Alive?”
“No.”
The room went silent.
“Where?”
“The courthouse parking garage.”
I shut my eyes.
The enemy was closer than we thought.
Then I noticed something scratched into the wall.
Three words.
HE REMEMBERS EVERYTHING.
I turned to Clara.
“Who?”
She stared at the message.
Then whispered:
“Your father.”
I almost laughed.
“My father is dead.”
“Yes.”
“But you said he died twelve years ago.”
“Yes.”
“Then why would someone say he remembers everything?”
Clara looked at me.
“Because he didn't die twelve years ago.”
The world shifted.
“What are you talking about?”
“He vanished.”
“You told everyone he died.”
“No.”
She swallowed.
“Your father's death certificate was forged.”
Eleanor stepped closer.
“Why?”
Clara looked toward the dark corridor.
“Because he disappeared after trying to expose the people who financed Mercer Financial.”
“Where is he now?”
Clara's answer came quietly.
“I don't know.”
A sound echoed from above.
Footsteps.
We all froze.
One.
Two.
Then several.
Eleanor raised a finger to her lips.
The footsteps descended.
A man's voice floated down the stairs.
“Evelyn?”
I recognized it instantly.
My heart pounded.
“Adrian?”
Clara whispered, “Impossible.”
Then he appeared.
Adrian stood at the bottom of the staircase.
No handcuffs.
No guards.
Blood on his shirt.
He looked directly at me.
“You really should have left town.”
I stared.
“How did you get out?”
He smiled.
“I didn't.”
A second man stepped behind him.
The same face.
The same eyes.
His twin.
Adrian gestured toward him.
“You've met Gabriel.”
Gabriel looked at me.
Then at the blood on Adrian's shirt.
“Only one of us came to negotiate.”
I looked at Adrian.
“Where is my mother?”
Adrian's smile faded.
“That's the wrong question.”
He raised a gun.
“The right question is…”
May you like
His eyes locked onto mine.
“Which family are you actually part of?”
