Chapter 4 - THE PRICE OF A CHILD
Dominic broke a man’s jaw twenty minutes after Caleb disappeared.
I didn’t see it happen.
I heard it.
The sound came from the security room downstairs, followed by a chair hitting the floor.
When I entered, Frank Delaney was tied to it.
So much for missing.
Dominic stood over him.
“Where is my son?”
Frank spat blood.
“I don’t know.”
Dominic hit him again.
“Dominic.”
He turned.
The man looking at me barely resembled the controlled billionaire I had met three months earlier.
This was Caleb’s father.
And he was terrified.
I stepped closer.
“Beating him unconscious won’t tell us where Caleb is.”
Frank laughed weakly.
“She thinks she can control you.”
Dominic turned back.
I caught his wrist.
“Don’t.”
His eyes met mine.
For several seconds, neither of us moved.
Then Dominic stepped away.
Frank smiled.
I crouched in front of him.
“Julian Cross will kill you.”
His smile disappeared.
“You helped him enter the estate. That means you know what he is. He doesn’t leave witnesses.”
“I didn’t take the kid.”
“I believe you.”
Dominic looked at me.
Frank did too.
“You opened a door,” I continued. “Somebody told you it was supposed to be intimidation. Maybe Cross promised nobody would get hurt.”
Frank’s breathing changed.
There.
“He told you Caleb wouldn’t be touched.”
Nothing.
“But then the shooting started.”
Frank looked down.
“And you realized you’d been lied to.”
His shoulders collapsed.
“I owed money.”
Dominic moved.
I raised one hand.
He stopped.
Frank began talking.
He had gambling debts.
Julian found out.
The arrangement seemed simple: disable two cameras and open the service entrance.
Nobody was supposed to die.
“Who took Caleb?”
“I don’t know.”
“What does Cross want?”
“The Vale Ledger.”
My father’s evidence.
“Where would he take him?”
Frank hesitated.
Dominic leaned forward.
“Think carefully.”
“There’s an abandoned church near Cold Spring. St. Bartholomew’s. Cross used it years ago for meetings.”
Dominic was already moving.
I followed.
“No.”
I ignored him.
“Eleanor.”
“It says come alone.”
“Which is precisely why you aren’t going.”
“He wants me.”
“He wants the drive.”
“He wants both.”
Dominic stopped.
“You have three gunshot wounds.”
“And Caleb was kidnapped because he came looking for me.”
“He was kidnapped because he is my son.”
His voice cracked.
That ended the argument.
For a moment, Dominic wasn’t a billionaire.
Wasn’t a crime boss.
He was simply a father who had already buried Caleb’s mother four years earlier and could not survive burying his child.
I stepped closer.
“We bring him home together.”
His eyes closed briefly.
Then he nodded.
We made a copy of the drive.
Dominic insisted on carrying the original.
I insisted that was stupid.
For once, he listened.
The original went into a secure vault.
We carried a duplicate.
At 11:40 p.m., we reached St. Bartholomew’s.
Snow had begun falling.
Dominic’s men surrounded the property from half a mile away.
I entered alone.
The church smelled of wet wood and dust.
“Caleb?”
Nothing.
Then a light switched on.
Julian Cross stood near the altar.
Eight years had changed him.
His hair was gray at the temples. A scar crossed his neck.
But the smile was identical.
“Eleanor.”
Every nightmare I’d had suddenly had a face again.
“Where is Caleb?”
“You look like Nathaniel.”
“Where is the boy?”
Julian sighed.
“You stabbed me with a pen.”
“You deserved worse.”
He laughed.
Then Caleb appeared.
A man led him from behind the altar.
His hands weren’t tied.
He looked terrified but unharmed.
“Mara!”
I almost ran to him.
Julian raised a pistol.
I stopped.
“The drive.”
I held it up.
“Let him go.”
“First, we talk.”
“Nothing to talk about.”
“Oh, there’s quite a lot.”
He walked closer.
“Your father didn’t die because of the evidence.”
My stomach tightened.
“He died because he discovered who built the network.”
“You.”
“No.”
Julian smiled.
“Someone much closer to your new employer.”
I heard movement outside.
Dominic.
Julian heard it too.
“You brought him.”
“You kidnapped his son. What did you expect?”
“I expected Dominic Mercer to behave exactly like his father.”
A gunshot exploded outside.
Then another.
Julian’s men turned.
I ran toward Caleb.
Someone grabbed me.
I drove my elbow backward.
Pain ripped through my healing ribs, but the man released me.
Caleb ran.
“Down!”
I covered him.
The church doors burst open.
Dominic entered.
Everything happened at once.
Men shouted.
Glass shattered.
Julian disappeared through a side door.
Dominic reached us.
“Caleb.”
His son launched himself into his arms.
Dominic dropped his weapon and held him.
I had never seen anything more human.
Caleb sobbed against his father’s chest.
Dominic kissed his hair again and again.
“You’re okay.”
Then Caleb reached for me.
Dominic pulled me into the embrace too.
For a few seconds, we were three frightened people kneeling on a dirty church floor.
Not boss.
Not maid.
Not heir.
Something else.
Something dangerously close to family.
Then one of Dominic’s men approached.
“We found something.”
Behind the altar was a portable surveillance station.
Photographs covered the wall.
Dominic.
Caleb.
Me.
And Alexander.
One photograph showed Alexander meeting Julian six months earlier.
Dominic stared at it.
His expression hardened.
“My brother lied.”
But Caleb tugged his sleeve.
“Dad?”
“What?”
“Uncle Alex came here.”
Dominic froze.
“When?”
“Tonight.”
“What did he do?”
Caleb wiped his face.
“He told the bad man he’d kill him if he hurt me.”
Dominic and I exchanged a look.
“Then why didn’t he take you home?”
May you like
Caleb whispered the answer.
“Because the bad man shot Uncle Alex.”
