Chapter 2 - Someone Inside Her Apartment
Elena did not remember deciding to get into Mason Callahan’s car.
One second she was standing behind the restaurant, staring at a photograph of her own living room.
The next, Mason’s driver was speeding north through the city while Mason sat opposite her in the rear seat.
Walter had been taken somewhere safe by Mason’s security staff.
At least Mason said he had.
Elena was no longer certain what safe meant in Mason Callahan’s world.
“Give me your phone,” Mason said.
“No.”
“Elena.”
“I have already been accused of stealing, watched by strangers, and informed that somebody broke into my apartment. You don’t get my phone too.”
“I’m trying to determine whether they tracked you.”
“They?”
Mason stared out the rain-streaked window.
“My father’s old associates.”
“That explanation means nothing to me.”
“It should.”
“Then explain it.”
Mason remained silent.
Elena leaned forward.
“You asked me to trust you.”
“No, I didn’t.”
She frowned.
Mason looked at her.
“I asked you to come with me. Trust is different.”
“That might be the first honest thing you’ve said.”
Something almost resembling amusement appeared in his eyes.
It vanished immediately.
“My father was Patrick Callahan,” he said. “Officially, he was a real estate investor. Unofficially, he ran operations that never appeared on tax returns.”
“Mafia.”
Mason’s gaze stayed level.
“That word attracts attention.”
“So does breaking into my apartment.”
“Patrick controlled gambling, unions, construction contracts, and several transportation routes. My grandfather Michael built most of it. But Michael wanted out near the end.”
“And that key?”
“May be connected to how he planned to get out.”
Elena looked down at her bag.
Mason still had the key.
“Give it back.”
He did.
Immediately.
That surprised her.
She closed her fist around it.
“My mother kept this on a chain under her clothes. After she died, it was in the small box the hospital gave me with her belongings.”
“Did she leave anything else?”
“A few photographs. Letters. Nothing important.”
“Everything is important now.”
Elena hated that he was probably right.
The car slowed.
Her apartment building appeared ahead.
Mason touched the driver’s shoulder.
“Stop here.”
They parked half a block away.
Two black SUVs arrived behind them without sirens.
Men exited.
Elena counted six.
“This is ridiculous.”
“This is restrained.”
“That is restrained?”
Mason opened the door.
“Stay here.”
“No.”
“Elena.”
“My home.”
“Possibly occupied by armed men.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know someone entered without your permission and photographed your living room. That’s enough.”
She stared at him.
“You are very accustomed to being obeyed.”
“Yes.”
“At least you admit it.”
Mason got out.
Elena followed.
He looked irritated but did not stop her.
They entered through the front lobby after his security team cleared it.
Elena’s apartment was on the third floor.
Her door was closed.
No visible damage.
Mason stood to one side while a security specialist inspected the lock.
“Picked,” the man said.
Elena felt sick.
The door opened.
Her apartment looked normal.
Too normal.
The cheap sofa.
Small kitchen table.
A framed photograph of Sofia.
Everything seemed untouched.
Then Elena saw the bedroom.
Drawers open.
Closet emptied.
Boxes overturned.
“They were looking for the key,” Mason said.
Elena walked to the small dresser.
“No.”
He watched her.
“What?”
“They weren’t.”
“How do you know?”
She pointed.
“My jewelry box is untouched. That’s where I used to keep the key.”
Mason’s eyes narrowed.
“Where did you keep it recently?”
“In my bag.”
“Who knew?”
“No one.”
“Then they were looking for something else.”
Elena’s gaze moved toward the closet.
At the bottom was an old blue suitcase.
It had belonged to Sofia.
Elena pulled it out.
The latch was open.
Her breath stopped.
“I never open this.”
Mason crouched beside her.
“What’s inside?”
“My mother’s things.”
The suitcase had been emptied across the closet floor.
Old dresses.
A scarf.
Letters.
A book.
Childhood drawings Elena had made.
Mason picked up one envelope.
No address.
Only a name.
Catherine.
His hand froze.
Elena noticed.
“Your mother?”
He opened the envelope carefully.
The letter inside was handwritten.
Mason read.
His expression tightened.
“What does it say?”
He handed it to Elena.
Sofia’s handwriting was unmistakable.
Catherine,
Patrick knows Michael changed the trust. He knows there are two keys. If he gets both, everything disappears. Take Mason and leave before Sunday. I’ll meet you at the lake house.
Do not tell anyone.
S.
Elena read it twice.
Then a third time.
“There were two keys.”
Mason nodded.
“You said your mother had one.”
“She did.”
“Where is it?”
“Gone.”
“With her?”
“That was always my assumption.”
Elena studied him.
“What happened Sunday?”
“My mother disappeared Saturday night.”
Silence filled the closet.
Mason picked up another envelope.
Empty.
Elena searched the suitcase.
“There should be more.”
“How many?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t looked at these since I was seventeen.”
Mason’s phone rang.
He answered.
His security chief spoke.
Mason’s expression darkened.
“Where?”
He stood.
“Lock the building.”
Elena rose too.
“What happened?”
Mason ended the call.
“One of my people found a man in the basement.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“He says his name is Thomas Vale.”
Mason looked unsettled.
“That means something.”
“It does.”
“What?”
“Thomas Vale was my mother’s driver.”
Elena stared.
“You said she disappeared thirty years ago.”
“He disappeared the same night.”
They descended to the basement.
Two guards stood beside an elderly man sitting against the wall.
He was perhaps seventy-five.
Gray hair.
Blood on his temple.
But alive.
When Mason entered, the man stared at him.
His eyes filled with something Elena could not identify.
“Mason.”
Mason stopped.
“You know me.”
Thomas laughed weakly.
“You have Catherine’s eyes.”
Mason’s face became stone.
“Where is she?”
Thomas looked toward Elena.
His gaze dropped to the brass key visible in her hand.
“Oh, God.”
“You know this key?” Elena asked.
Thomas nodded.
“Sofia kept it.”
“What does it open?”
Thomas swallowed.
“The lake house.”
Mason crouched.
“Which lake house?”
“Michael’s.”
“My grandfather had three.”
“The one no property records ever listed.”
Mason’s jaw tightened.
“Where?”
Thomas coughed.
“Wisconsin.”
Elena leaned closer.
“What’s inside?”
Thomas looked terrified.
“The truth.”
“About what?”
“About why Catherine vanished.”
Mason’s voice lowered.
“Did my father kill her?”
Thomas closed his eyes.
“No.”
Mason went still.
“Then where is she?”
Thomas opened his eyes again.
“I drove Catherine away that night.”
Mason’s breathing changed.
“Where?”
“I was supposed to take her to Sofia.”
“And?”
“We never made it.”
“Why?”
Thomas looked at Elena.
“Because Sofia called me from a pay phone.”
Elena’s heart pounded.
“What did my mother say?”
Thomas hesitated.
Then spoke.
“She said Patrick had found out Elena existed.”
Elena stared.
“I was a baby.”
“Yes.”
“Why would that matter?”
Thomas looked at Mason.
Then back at Elena.
“Because Sofia had lied about who Elena’s father was.”
Mason’s phone rang again.
No one moved.
It rang a second time.
He answered.
His security chief’s voice was urgent.
Mason slowly turned toward the basement stairs.
“What do you mean Trent is gone?”
A pause.
“When?”
Another pause.
Mason’s eyes hardened.
“Find him.”
He ended the call.
Elena looked at Thomas.
“Who was my father?”
Thomas opened his mouth.
But a gunshot exploded upstairs.
Then another.
The basement lights went out.
May you like
And in the darkness, Thomas whispered one name.
“Callahan.”
