Chapter 4 - The Man Behind the East Gate
I reached Emma’s room in darkness.
Bruno reached it first.
Sophia had Emma in her arms.
The window was closed.
No one was inside.
“Are you hurt?”
Emma shook her head.
“What happened?”
“Man.”
Sophia stared at her.
“What man?”
Emma pointed toward the window.
“Outside.”
Second floor.
No balcony.
I moved to the glass.
Nothing.
Then Bruno began scratching at the wall beneath the window.
“Bruno.”
He continued.
Nathan brought emergency lights.
I examined the wall.
A narrow maintenance panel sat behind a curtain.
I had lived in this house for twelve years.
I had never noticed it.
We opened it.
Behind the panel was a service shaft.
Old.
Narrow.
Large enough for a man.
Sophia looked horrified.
“Someone could get into her room?”
“Not anymore.”
I stationed guards at every access point.
Then I returned to Keller.
He was alive.
The shot had missed him.
That fact bothered me.
A professional shooter at that distance should not have missed.
Unless the bullet wasn't intended to kill.
It was intended to silence.
Keller understood the message.
He started talking.
“Daniel paid me.”
“How much?”
“Fifty thousand.”
“For what?”
“Make Bruno unreliable.”
“Why?”
“I told you. The dog reacted to him.”
“That's not enough.”
Keller lowered his head.
“There was another reason.”
Finally.
“Daniel used the east gate.”
“For what?”
“I don't know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“He met people there at night. Bruno started noticing. Every time Daniel came back through that gate, Bruno smelled something on him.”
“What?”
“Chemicals, maybe.”
My mind moved rapidly.
The east gate connected to an old service road.
Beyond it sat three unused buildings.
One was a storage facility.
One was the original kennel.
The third was a maintenance building.
All supposedly empty.
“When?”
“Tuesday and Thursday nights.”
“Since when?”
“Months.”
“And nobody told me?”
Keller laughed bitterly.
“Daniel runs security. Who would we tell?”
Me.
They should have told me.
But that was the flaw in systems built around one trusted man.
If that man became corrupted, the entire structure protected him.
“What happens at the old buildings?”
“I don't know.”
“Then we're finding out.”
Before dawn, Nathan and I entered the old kennel.
Bruno came with us.
I almost left him behind.
Then he stood at the door and refused to move away.
So I let him choose.
The building smelled of dust.
Empty cages lined one wall.
Old equipment filled another.
Bruno sniffed the floor.
Then walked toward the rear.
He stopped beside a cabinet.
Nathan moved it.
Behind it was a door.
Locked.
“Was this here before?” Nathan asked.
“No.”
We broke the lock.
Concrete stairs descended beneath the building.
At the bottom was a room.
Not large.
But active.
Fresh footprints.
A desk.
Computer cables.
Security monitors.
Photographs.
My house.
My staff.
Sophia.
Emma.
Me.
I stared at them.
Nathan whispered, “Jesus.”
One photograph showed Emma playing near the kitchen.
Another showed Sophia leaving a grocery store.
Another showed me entering my office.
Someone had been watching us.
On the desk sat copies of internal schedules.
Vehicle routes.
Alarm codes.
Daniel’s security reports.
I picked up one photograph.
Bruno was in it.
A red circle had been drawn around him.
Underneath:
REMOVE VARIABLE.
I felt sick.
Bruno nudged my hand.
“You knew.”
His eyes met mine.
“You knew before I did.”
Nathan opened a drawer.
“Boss.”
Inside were veterinary sedatives.
Training devices.
And a second steel chain.
We photographed everything.
Then Bruno began growling at the far wall.
I followed him.
Nothing.
He scratched.
Nathan knocked against the concrete.
Hollow.
We found another door.
Behind it was a tunnel.
The tunnel led toward the estate.
Toward the service shaft beneath Emma’s room.
This wasn't recent improvisation.
Someone had spent months building access into my home.
“Call the police,” I said.
Nathan stared at me.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
This had moved beyond private security.
We needed people outside Daniel’s network.
Nathan stepped away to make the call.
I remained with Bruno.
Then my phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
A photograph appeared.
Sophia standing beside my front gate.
Taken seconds earlier.
Text followed.
STOP DIGGING.
I called Nathan.
No answer.
I ran upstairs.
Bruno followed.
We reached the courtyard.
Nathan’s phone lay in the snow.
Sophia was nowhere in sight.
“Emma!”
No answer.
My blood went cold.
Then I saw her teddy bear near the east gate.
Bruno saw it too.
He ran.
His injured leg slowed him, but not enough.
We followed the service road.
The gate stood open.
Beyond it, tire tracks cut through the snow.
Then Bruno stopped.
He sniffed.
Turned away from the tracks.
And ran toward the maintenance building.
I followed.
Inside, we heard crying.
Sophia.
She was bound to a chair.
Alive.
“Emma?”
Her eyes widened.
“They took her.”
My heart stopped.
“Who?”
“I couldn't see. Someone grabbed me from behind. Emma ran.”
“Ran where?”
“I don't know.”
Bruno suddenly barked.
Once.
He raced outside.
We followed him toward the trees.
Tiny footprints crossed the snow.
Emma had escaped.
We followed.
The prints ended beside the old greenhouse.
The door stood slightly open.
I approached.
“Emma?”
Silence.
Bruno pushed through.
Then stopped.
Emma sat beneath a table, clutching her teddy bear.
She saw Bruno.
“Friend!”
I dropped to my knees.
She ran into my arms.
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
Then Bruno turned toward the greenhouse door.
Growl.
Footsteps outside.
Nathan appeared.
Relief flooded through me.
“Boss, thank God.”
I stood.
“Where were you?”
“Someone hit me.”
He touched the back of his head.
There was blood.
“Did you see who?”
“No.”
Bruno sniffed him.
No reaction.
I believed him.
Police arrived within minutes.
Sophia was freed.
Emma was examined.
Nobody was seriously injured.
But Daniel had disappeared.
His house was empty.
His bank accounts untouched.
His phone abandoned.
He had planned for this.
At dawn, investigators searched the underground room.
One detective approached me.
“We found fingerprints.”
“Daniel?”
“Some.”
“Some?”
“There are multiple sets.”
“Whose?”
“We're checking.”
He handed me a clear evidence bag.
Inside was a photograph.
Me.
Taken years earlier.
On the back, handwritten:
MORETTI DOESN'T KNOW WHAT HIS FATHER LEFT HIM.
I stared at it.
“My father?”
The detective nodded.
“You know what that means?”
“No.”
That was the truth.
My father had died twelve years earlier.
He left me businesses, properties, accounts.
Nothing secret.
At least nothing I knew about.
Then Emma tugged my coat.
“Adrian.”
She rarely used my name.
I crouched.
She pointed toward the photograph.
“That's the paper man.”
“What?”
“The man in the wall had one.”
I stared at her.
“What man?”
“The man who came in my room.”
Sophia went pale.
Emma pointed toward my father’s photograph.
“He said he wanted the key.”
I looked at the detective.
“What key?”
Then Bruno walked toward the old kennel.
He stopped beside the wall.
And began digging.
Beneath loose stones, his paw struck metal.
We cleared the snow.
A small iron box appeared.
May you like
There was a keyhole in its center.
And engraved above it was my father’s name.
