Chapter 5 - THE PADLOCKED DOOR
The night air was freezing. It whipped through the bare branches of the oak trees as we sprinted across the dark estate grounds. I ran behind Luca and Julian. My left hand throbbed with every step, the fractured knuckle protesting the cold, but I ignored it. We couldn't take the main paths. If Vanessa truly had a mole in the security detail, any guard we passed could alert her. We stuck to the shadows, moving through the dense hedges until the silhouette of the old botanical greenhouse loomed against the starry sky. It was a massive structure of wrought iron and frosted glass, built a century ago. It looked entirely abandoned. No lights. No movement. But as we crept closer, I saw it. A heavy, modern steel padlock hung on the rusty iron doors. Julian let out a strangled breath. “Leo,” he whispered, rushing forward. He grabbed the padlock, pulling it frantically. It didn't budge. Luca pulled his silenced pistol. “Stand back,” he ordered. He aimed at the heavy steel shackle and fired twice. Pfft. Pfft. The lock shattered, chunks of metal flying into the grass. Julian ripped the iron doors open and plunged into the pitch-black greenhouse. Luca followed, pulling a small tactical flashlight from his pocket. The beam cut through the darkness, illuminating dead vines and shattered terracotta pots. “Leo!” Julian shouted, his voice echoing off the glass walls. “Leo, it’s Daddy! Where are you?” Nothing. Only the sound of the wind rattling the loose panes above us. I stepped inside, my eyes scanning the floor. “Over here!” I called out. Luca’s flashlight snapped to where I was standing near the back corner. Hidden behind a massive, dead fern was a makeshift room constructed from thick plastic tarps. Julian tore the tarps down. Inside was a small cot. A space heater. A plastic bucket. And sitting perfectly in the center of the cot was a tiny, blue corduroy jacket. Julian grabbed the jacket, pressing it to his face. He sobbed into the fabric, recognizing his son’s scent. “He was here,” Julian cried. “He was just here!” I had answered the question of where Vanessa had been hiding the boy. But I had opened two devastating new ones. Where did she move him? And how did she know we were coming? Luca swept his flashlight across the small space. His beam caught something metallic glinting on the dirt floor. He knelt and picked it up. It was a heavy, gold Rolex watch. Julian gasped. “That’s mine. I lost it three weeks ago. Right before Leo was taken.” Luca turned the watch over. The glass face was completely smashed. The hands were frozen permanently at 10:45. “She planted it here,” Luca said quietly, his strategic mind racing ahead. “She moved the boy, left his jacket, and planted your watch.” “Why?” Julian asked, panic creeping into his voice. “To frame you,” Luca realized. “If anyone ever found this place, the evidence would point directly to you. A desperate father who kidnapped his own son to extort the Moretti family.” Vanessa was a mastermind. She had built an airtight alibi, preparing to burn Julian the moment he outlived his usefulness. “She knows we’re onto her,” I said softly. Both men looked at me. “She left the dining room thirty minutes ago,” I reminded them. “If her mole told her Julian went to your bedroom instead of carrying out the hit, she knew the plan failed.” Luca’s eyes turned lethal. “She’s making a run for it.” Suddenly, the heavy iron doors of the greenhouse slammed shut with a deafening crash. The sound of a heavy metal chain rattling outside echoed through the glass. Someone was locking us in. Julian threw himself against the doors, pushing with all his strength. They didn’t move an inch. “Hey!” Julian screamed, pounding on the glass. “Open the door!” A dark figure stood outside in the moonlight. We couldn't see his face, but he was wearing the standard black uniform of the Moretti security team. The mole. The guard didn't speak. He simply raised a red plastic jerrycan and began pouring gasoline over the base of the doors and the wooden framing of the greenhouse. “No!” I screamed, my blood turning to ice. The guard finished pouring. He calmly pulled a silver lighter from his pocket, sparked it, and tossed it into the puddle of fuel. Flames erupted instantly. The fire climbed the dry, rotted wood of the greenhouse frame with terrifying speed, feeding on the dead vines that coated the structure. Thick, black smoke immediately began filling the enclosed space. “Back away from the doors!” Luca roared. He raised his gun and fired a full clip into the heavy frosted glass panels, hoping to shatter a way out. The bullets spider-webbed the glass, but it didn't break. It was reinforced security glass, installed decades ago to protect rare exotic plants from Chicago winters. We were trapped. The heat became suffocating within seconds. Flames licked at the plastic tarps, melting them into toxic, dripping black goo. Julian coughed violently, falling to his knees. “Leo,” he wheezed, the smoke filling his lungs. “I have to find Leo.” “Stay low!” Luca ordered, grabbing Julian by the collar and dragging him to the dirt floor. Luca looked at me. His dark eyes were wild with an intensity I had never seen. He wasn't going to let us die in this glass coffin. He looked around frantically, his mind searching for a weapon, a tool, anything. His eyes landed on a massive, cast-iron planting urn sitting in the center of the room. It weighed easily three hundred pounds. “Julian! Claire!” Luca shouted over the roar of the fire. “Help me lift it!”
