Chapter 4 - The Man Behind the DoorThe handle moved slowly.
Almost politely.
Callum raised his weapon.
Sadie pressed herself against the wall.
The room went silent.
Then the door burst inward.
Callum fired.
The intruder dropped behind the frame.
One second passed.
Two.
Callum approached.
He kicked the weapon away.
The man was one of his own security officers.
His name was Daniel Price.
Sadie recognized him.
“He works for you.”
Callum knelt.
Daniel’s eyes fluttered open.
Callum grabbed his collar.
“Who else?”
Daniel smiled through blood.
“You’re too late.”
Callum’s expression hardened.
“Where is Hale?”
Daniel coughed.
“Not Hale.”
Callum stopped.
“Then who?”
Daniel looked toward Sadie.
“Her.”
Sadie froze.
“What?”
Daniel smiled.
“The problem is not who killed Emma.”
He glanced at Callum.
“It’s who Sadie’s father was.”
Sadie felt the blood leave her face.
“My father?”
Daniel closed his eyes.
Callum shook him.
“Stay awake.”
Nothing.
He was dead.
Sadie stared at the body.
“What did he mean?”
Callum did not answer.
“Callum.”
“We need to move.”
“No.”
“Now.”
“You are not leaving until you tell me.”
He grabbed the flash drive.
“Someone breached the internal network. We have minutes before they cut the power.”
“And my father?”
Callum looked at her.
“Your father was not the man you think he was.”
The lights went out.
Blackness swallowed the room.
Sadie gasped.
Callum caught her wrist.
“Stay behind me.”
A metallic click came from the hallway.
Someone was loading a weapon.
Callum fired toward the sound.
A scream.
Then footsteps.
Three sets.
He pulled Sadie toward a concealed door.
She stared.
“What is that?”
“Exit.”
“You have a secret passage?”
“I am a man with enemies.”
He opened it.
They entered a narrow corridor hidden inside the wall.
The door closed behind them.
For the first time in ten years, Callum Russo ran.
Not from the police.
Not from a rival.
From the truth.
They emerged into an underground garage.
A second vehicle waited.
Callum shoved Sadie inside.
He got behind the wheel.
The car roared out.
Neither spoke for several minutes.
Finally, Sadie said, “Tell me about my father.”
Callum kept his eyes on the road.
“His name was Michael Miller.”
“I know.”
“He was an accountant.”
“I know.”
“He worked for Vincent Hale.”
Sadie turned toward him.
“What?”
“Before he became an accountant, he handled financial records for the organization.”
“That is impossible.”
“No.”
Sadie shook her head.
“My father worked at a bank.”
“That was his cover.”
“Why would he do that?”
“To keep you safe.”
“From criminals?”
“From the people he worked for.”
She stared at him.
“You’re saying my father was involved.”
“Yes.”
“My father was murdered?”
Callum’s hands tightened around the wheel.
“Six months before Emma.”
Sadie suddenly understood.
“Then why did everyone say he died from a heart attack?”
“Because that was the official story.”
“And the real story?”
“He was poisoned.”
Sadie closed her eyes.
Her whole childhood rearranged itself.
The family dinners.
The whispered phone calls.
The locked study.
Her mother crying in the kitchen.
The funeral.
Everything she thought she knew had been false.
“Why did Emma know?”
“She found out.”
“And you?”
“I found out after her.”
Sadie stared at him.
“So why did you hire me?”
Callum said nothing.
“Answer me.”
He pulled the car to the side of the road.
Then he looked at her.
“I hired you because I thought you would lead me to the truth.”
Sadie’s heart stopped.
“You used me.”
“Yes.”
The honesty hurt more than a lie.
Then Callum added quietly:
“But I did not expect to care whether you survived it.”
Sadie looked away.
A small silence passed.
Then her phone rang.
Unknown number.
She answered.
A man spoke.
“Sadie Miller?”
“Yes?”
“This is Detective Harris.”
Callum immediately turned toward her.
The detective continued.
“We found something in your sister’s old case file.”
“What?”
“A photograph.”
“What photograph?”
There was hesitation.
Then the detective said:
“A photo of Emma taken the night she died.”
Sadie’s fingers tightened around the phone.
“Can I see it?”
“You already have.”
She frowned.
“What?”
“It was found inside your apartment this morning.”
Callum’s face changed.
“My apartment?”
“Yes.”
Sadie swallowed.
“How did it get there?”
The detective answered softly.
“Because whoever took the photograph has been inside your home.”
A message arrived on Sadie’s phone.
One image.
She opened it.
Her bedroom.
Her bed.
Her pillow.
And written across the white wall in black ink:
WELCOME HOME, SADIE.
Underneath it was a smaller sentence.
ASK CALLUM WHY HE NEVER TOLD YOU ABOUT THE NIGHT HE PROPOSED TO EMMA.
May you like
Sadie slowly looked at him.
Callum went completely still.
