Chapter 5 - THE BURNER PHONE
“Margaret?” I pressed the phone tight against my ear, signaling for Robert and Anna to stay quiet. “Where are you?”
“I’m in the back seat of his town car,” she sobbed, her voice muffled as if she were hiding under a coat. “He parked in the underground structure beneath the Waldorf. He stepped out to take a call. Mr. Caldwell, he has a gun.”
A chill ran down my spine. Arthur Vance, a billionaire corporate chairman, was carrying a weapon. The stakes had just escalated from financial fraud to murder.
“Why is he turning on you?” I asked, keeping my voice terrifyingly steady so Lily wouldn't panic.
“The airline called his burner phone,” Margaret cried. “They canceled my ticket. He only ever intended to buy one ticket, James. He used my name to book it, but he canceled mine the moment we left the restaurant. He’s tying up loose ends. I know too much about the Vanguard shell companies. If he leaves me here, I’ll talk. He knows that.”
I closed my eyes. Margaret had been cruel to my daughter. She had humiliated my seven-year-old child to earn a paycheck from a monster. A dark part of my soul wanted to hang up and let Arthur handle his own mess.
But I looked down at Lily. She was clutching her drawing of a birthday cake, looking up at me with pure, innocent trust. I couldn't let a woman die. Not even Margaret.
“Listen to me carefully,” I said. “Do you see the hotel elevators from where the car is parked?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “About fifty yards away.”
“Get out of the car. Run to the elevators and go to the lobby. Stay in a crowded, well-lit area near security. Robert and I are five minutes away.”
“The child locks are on,” she panicked. “I can’t open the doors from the inside!”
“Then kick out the window, Margaret!” I barked. “Use your heels, use your purse, whatever you have. Break the glass and run!”
A loud thud echoed through the phone, followed by the sound of shattering glass and a terrified scream.
The line went dead.
“Robert,” I said, tossing my phone into my pocket. “We need to get to the Waldorf. Now.”
We left Anna and Lily in the restaurant owner’s secure office with two massive security guards stationed at the door. I kissed Lily’s forehead, promising her I’d be back before her bedtime.
Ten minutes later, Robert’s Range Rover skidded to a halt in front of the glittering glass doors of the Waldorf Astoria. We sprinted into the lobby, our eyes scanning the opulent marble floors and crystal chandeliers.
There, sitting on a velvet sofa surrounded by a concierge and two hotel security guards, was Margaret. She was barefoot, her red dress torn at the hem, her hands shaking violently as she clutched a cup of water.
When she saw me, she broke down in fresh tears.
“He’s gone,” she choked out as I knelt in front of her. “He saw me break the window and he drove off.”
“Where did he go?” Robert demanded.
“I don't know,” Margaret sobbed. “But... I took this from the center console when I climbed into the front seat to escape.”
She opened her trembling hand. Resting in her palm was a cheap, prepaid burner phone.
I took the phone. The screen was cracked, but it was powered on. I opened the text messages. There was only one number saved in the contacts, labeled simply as "The Cleaner."
I read the last message sent by Arthur, time-stamped just three minutes ago:
Transaction failed. The nanny corrupted the file. Burn the Evanston safehouse to the ground. Leave no witnesses.
My blood turned to ice.
Evanston.
That was where Anna was supposed to take Lily. That was my secure property. Arthur hadn't driven away to escape; he had driven away to silence the only person who could prove he stole the biometric file.
But Anna and Lily weren't in Evanston. They were still at the restaurant.
I let out a breath of relief that was so sharp it hurt my chest. “They’re safe. He thinks they went to the house.”
Suddenly, the burner phone in my hand vibrated. The screen lit up with an incoming call from "The Cleaner."
I answered it, putting the phone to my ear but remaining completely silent.
“Mr. Vance?” a gruff voice said on the other end. “The Evanston house is empty. They aren't here.”
A long silence followed. I could hear the man breathing heavily on the other end of the line.
“Wait,” the man said softly. “The internal GPS on the father’s phone... I just pinged it. They’re still at the restaurant.”
My heart stopped.
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I had left my primary cell phone in my pocket. Arthur’s men had tracked my location. They knew exactly where I had left my daughter.
“Robert,” I yelled, spinning around and sprinting toward the exit. “They’re at the restaurant! Drive!”
