Chapter 5 - THE GHOST IN THE WALLS
The grandfather clock in the corner of the safe house ticked loudly, the sound echoing like a hammer against Evelyn’s skull.
"A tracker?" Lorenzo demanded, pushing himself out of the velvet armchair. He ignored the wince of pain from his freshly bandaged side, snatching the yellowed blueprint from Evelyn’s trembling hands.
His eyes darted over the faded ink. It was undeniably drawn by Arthur Carter. Evelyn recognized her father’s meticulous, slanting handwriting—the same handwriting that used to fill stacks of notepads on their cramped kitchen table before he vanished.
"He didn't just hide the money," Lorenzo muttered, tracing a line on the paper that pointed directly to the brick fireplace in the living room. "He bugged the safe houses. He was keeping tabs on Silas."
"If there’s an active tracker in here," Evelyn said, panic rising in her chest, "does that mean Silas and Celeste can find us?"
Lorenzo didn't answer. He limped over to the fireplace, grabbing a heavy iron fire poker. With a vicious grunt, he smashed the heavy iron tip into the mortar between the bricks just above the mantel. Dust and red clay exploded outward.
Leo whimpered, hiding behind Evelyn’s legs. She knelt down instinctively, wrapping her arms around the boy, shielding him from the flying debris. "It's okay, Leo. It's okay."
Lorenzo struck the brick three more times until a section of the wall crumbled away, revealing a hollow cavity in the masonry. He reached his hand inside and pulled out a small, blinking black box.
The red light on the device was pulsing rapidly.
"It's active," Lorenzo said, his voice grim. He threw the tracker on the ground and crushed it under the heel of his Italian leather shoe. "But it's not a modern GPS. It's an old radio frequency beacon. They would have to be within a one-mile radius to pick up the signal."
Just as he finished the sentence, the security monitor mounted on the kitchen wall let out a sharp, high-pitched double beep.
Evelyn’s blood ran cold.
Lorenzo crossed the room in two long strides, tapping the monitor to bring up the exterior cameras. Evelyn stood up, pulling Leo tightly against her hip, and looked at the screen.
Three black SUVs had just pulled up to the curb outside the apartment building. The doors opened, and a dozen men in tactical gear poured out into the rain. At the center of the group, holding a large black umbrella, stood Celeste Vane. Even in the downpour, the heiress looked immaculate, her emerald gown swapped out for a sleek black trench coat. She looked up directly into the hidden camera above the door and smiled, raising two fingers in a mock salute.
"They're here," Evelyn whispered, feeling the walls closing in on her. "Oh my god, they found us."
"Get into the bedroom," Lorenzo ordered, his voice shifting into absolute command mode. He pulled his pistol, checking the magazine. "Lock the door. Don't come out no matter what you hear."
"No!" Evelyn cried out, grabbing his arm. "You're hurt. There are too many of them, Lorenzo. You can't fight an army by yourself."
"I protect what is mine," he snapped, his dark eyes fierce. He looked down at Leo, then back at Evelyn. "I promised my brother I would keep this boy alive. And I owe your father a debt I intend to pay."
He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a heavy ring of keys, pressing a small silver one into her palm. "Under the bed, there’s a trapdoor. It leads to the basement of the abandoned building next door. Take the boy and run."
"I am not leaving you to die!" Evelyn yelled, the raw emotion surprising even herself.
"Evelyn," Lorenzo said softly, cupping her cheek with his rough, powder-stained hand. "You were invisible for nine months, waiting for a way out. This is it. Go."
Before she could argue, a massive explosion shook the building.
The heavy steel front door buckled inward with a shrieking screech of tearing metal. Wood splintered everywhere as smoke poured into the living room.
Lorenzo shoved Evelyn backward toward the hallway, raising his gun. "Go!"
Evelyn dragged Leo into the bedroom, slamming the heavy wooden door shut and throwing the deadbolt. Her heart hammered wildly. Gunfire erupted in the living room, deafening and rapid.
"Under the bed," she told Leo, her voice shaking. "We have to go under the bed."
She dropped to her knees, pulling the heavy quilt aside. Sure enough, a square wooden panel sat flush against the hardwood floor. She fumbled with the silver key, her hands slick with sweat, and jammed it into the lock. She twisted it, throwing the hatch open.
A dark, narrow wooden slide led down into pitch blackness.
"Go, Leo," she urged, helping the boy into the chute. "Slide down. I'm right behind you."
Leo sniffled but bravely slid into the dark. Evelyn moved to follow him, but something caught her eye.
Where the trapdoor had opened, a false bottom in the floorboards had cracked open. Sitting in the dust was a heavy, leather-bound book.
A ledger.
Evelyn hesitated, listening to the roar of gunfire from the living room. Lorenzo was making his last stand. She couldn't leave him. She grabbed the heavy leather book and opened it.
The first page wasn't a list of numbers. It was a handwritten letter.
To my daughter, Evie. If you are reading this, I am already dead. But I did not abandon you. I sold my soul to buy your life. The truth about who destroyed our family is on page four.
The bedroom door handle jiggled violently.
"Well, well," a smooth, feminine voice purred from the hallway. "Found you."
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A shotgun blast blew the bedroom door off its hinges. Celeste stepped over the splintered wood, a smoking shotgun in her hands. Behind her stood Gilbert—Evelyn’s manager from the restaurant—a nasty bruise on his face, holding a gun pointed directly at Evelyn.
"Hello, waitress," Celeste smirked. "I believe you have something that belongs to me."
