Chapter 2 - THE SILVER ROSARY IN THE SAFE

I stared at my son’s drawing, my chest heaving.

Mateo was only four when the fire happened. I had always been told he slept through the beginning of it. That he hadn't seen anything.

He saw the arsonist. He saw my brother.

"Isabel!" I screamed, tearing through the hallway.

I checked the guest rooms, the bathrooms, the study. Nothing.

Then I heard a faint, muffled thumping coming from the basement stairs.

I rushed down and threw open the heavy oak door.

Isabel was sitting on the bottom step, holding her head. A nasty bruise was forming on her cheek.

"I tried to stop him, sir," she sobbed. "Mr. Arthur. He came through the back door. He took them."

"Where did they go?"

"I don't know. He grabbed the boys, but Victoria... sir, Victoria tried to stop him too."

I froze. "What?"

"She was screaming at him. She said, 'This wasn't the plan, you promised you wouldn't hurt them!' He hit her, Mr. Alejandro. He dragged the boys out, and he forced her into the car with them."

Another reversal.

Victoria hadn't been packing the boys' coats to kidnap them. She had been packing them because she was terrified. She was trying to run with them to protect them from Arthur.

"Did you hear him say anything? A destination?"

Isabel squeezed her eyes shut. "He dropped something in the struggle in the kitchen. A coat."

I ran upstairs to the kitchen.

Lying on the tile floor was Arthur’s heavy wool trench coat.

I went straight for the pockets.

I pulled out a folded piece of glossy paper.

It was a one-way ferry ticket. Leaving for the Canadian border in exactly two hours.

I looked at my watch. It was a ninety-minute drive to the ferry terminal.

"Call the police, Isabel. Tell them everything."

I ran back to my car, my heart hammering against my ribs.

I merged onto the highway, pushing the engine to its absolute limit. My twin boys were in the hands of the man who had murdered their mother.

But as I drove, my mind snagged on the bank statements. Arthur had been stealing from the company. Elena must have found out. That’s why he started the fire.

But how did Victoria fit in? Why had she spent four years playing the grieving sister-in-law?

I reached the port just as the sun began to set, casting a harsh, bloody light across the water.

Cars were lining up to board the massive ferry.

I abandoned my car on the curb and started sprinting through the lines of vehicles, looking for Arthur’s black SUV.

Row after row. Nothing.

Then, I saw it. Parked near the back of the vessel, the engine still running.

I crept up to the driver's side window. It was rolled down.

The car was completely empty.

I opened the back door.

Sitting on the leather seat was a tiny, familiar object.