Chapter 4 - THE EMPTY ROOM
Audrey took me.
The piece of notebook paper felt like burning lead in my hand. I spun around, my eyes desperately scanning the shadows of the pink-and-white bedroom. The closet door was ajar. Her small yellow raincoat was missing from the hook.
I didn’t scream. Panic is a luxury you cannot afford when a child is in danger.
I bolted out of the room, my footsteps heavy against the thick hallway carpet. “Marco!” I shouted, abandoning all protocol. “Marco!”
The head of security appeared at the top of the grand staircase, his hand instinctively dropping to the holster at his hip. “Nell? What’s wrong?”
“Audrey has Millie,” I gasped, shoving the note into his chest. “She took her out of the house. Did you see them leave?”
Marco looked at the note, his face draining of color. “No. I was stationed at the front door. The perimeter alarm hasn’t been tripped. No vehicles have left the gates.”
“Then they’re still on the grounds,” I said.
We ran. We checked the drawing room, the library, the solarium. Empty. The house was enormous, a sprawling fortress of marble and glass, but it felt suffocatingly small.
“The service tunnels,” Marco said suddenly, stopping outside the kitchen. “There’s an old underground passage that connects the wine cellar to the carriage house at the edge of the property. It bypasses the gate sensors.”
I didn’t wait for him to lead the way. I ran down the stone steps into the wine cellar, the air growing damp and cold. Marco pushed past a heavy oak rack of vintage reds, revealing a heavy iron door. It was unlocked, hanging open by an inch.
We plunged into the tunnel. The dirt floor was undisturbed except for a set of fresh, small footprints. A child’s rainboots. Dragged alongside them were the sharp, deep indentations of Audrey’s stiletto heels.
“She’s forcing her,” I whispered, breaking into a sprint.
We reached the carriage house at the far end of the property just as the heavy wooden doors swung open to the private access road. A black sedan was idling in the rain.
Audrey was standing by the open rear door, gripping Millie tightly by the wrist. The little girl was crying, her yellow raincoat soaked, dragging her feet in the mud.
“Audrey! Stop!” I screamed, bursting out of the tunnel.
Audrey whipped her head around. When she saw me, her face twisted in a mask of sheer panic. She tried to shove Millie into the backseat, but Millie fought back, hooking her arms around the doorframe.
Marco drew his weapon, aiming it squarely at Audrey’s chest. “Let the girl go, Miss Blake. Step away from the vehicle.”
Audrey froze. She looked at the gun, then at me. Her chest was heaving.
“You don’t understand,” Audrey cried, her voice cracking. The polished, manipulative woman from the dining room was gone. She looked terrified, broken. “I’m not hurting her! I’m trying to save her!”
“By kidnapping her in the middle of the night?” I yelled, walking slowly toward them. “Let go of her wrist, Audrey.”
Audrey’s grip loosened. Millie immediately tore away, running across the wet grass and throwing her arms around my waist. I pulled her behind me, shielding her body with my own.
“Save her from what, Audrey?” Marco demanded, his gun unwavering. “Mr. Moretti loves that child.”
“Not him!” Audrey screamed, tears finally spilling over her mascara. “From Carlo! From his own underboss!”
Answer one: Audrey wasn’t the mastermind. She was running from a threat within Vincenzo’s own family.
Audrey collapsed against the side of the sedan, sliding down until she hit the wet pavement. She buried her face in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably.
“Five years ago, Carlo came to my office,” Audrey wept. “I was just a grief counselor. I didn’t know anything about the mafia. Carlo paid me two hundred thousand dollars to get close to Vincenzo. To keep him sedated, distracted with grief, so Carlo could quietly take over the business.”
I stared at her, the pieces slowly clicking together. The offshore bank receipt.
“But then the private investigator found Millie,” Audrey continued, looking up at me with pleading, pathetic eyes. “Carlo didn’t know Elena was pregnant when he ran her car off the road. When he found out Millie was alive, he panicked. He told me that if Vincenzo ever found out the truth, Carlo would kill Millie. I’ve been trying to keep her isolated, trying to keep Vincenzo from looking too closely into her past, to keep her safe!”
“You lied to her,” I said coldly. “You told her Anna didn’t love her.”
“Because Anna knows!” Audrey shouted.
Open two: What did a teenage foster girl know about a mafia underboss’s assassination plot from five years ago?
“Anna was there,” Audrey whispered, shivering in the rain. “The night Elena died. She saw Carlo push the car.”
Before I could process the magnitude of that revelation, Marco’s radio crackled to life.
“Marco, this is the front gate. We have a situation.”
Marco pressed his earpiece, his gun still trained on Audrey. “Report.”
“It’s the boss, Marco. Mr. Moretti just returned from the foster home. He’s... he’s covered in blood.”
My breath hitched. “Is he hurt?” I yelled toward the radio.
May you like
“No, Nell. He’s not hurt.” The guard’s voice trembled. “But he’s carrying a girl. A teenager. She’s been shot.”
Cliffhanger: Audrey let out a blood-curdling scream, pointing a shaking finger at the headlights cutting through the rain at the top of the driveway. “Carlo knows! He got to Anna before Vincenzo did!”
