Chapter 2 - The Man Maisie Called Daddy
Victor watched the security footage twice.
The man never showed his face.
Dark coat.
Gloves.
Baseball cap pulled low.
He entered Victor’s study at 8:17 a.m., remained inside for forty-three seconds, then disappeared into a corridor without triggering another camera.
“That’s impossible,” Vincent said.
Victor handed him the phone.
“Apparently not.”
Vincent’s jaw tightened.
“The corridor cameras should have caught him.”
“Then somebody disabled them.”
Clare picked up Maisie.
“We need to leave.”
Victor looked at her.
“No.”
“I’m not asking.”
“Neither am I.”
Clare’s fear became anger.
“My daughter is standing in a house someone just broke into.”
“A house with thirty-two security cameras and eight trained guards.”
“And someone walked through all of them.”
Victor had no response.
Because she was right.
Maisie touched her mother’s cheek.
“Mama, are we in trouble?”
Clare forced herself to smile.
“No, baby.”
Victor looked at Vincent.
“Lock the property down.”
Vincent nodded.
“Nobody enters or leaves until we know who that was.”
Clare stiffened.
“You can’t keep us here.”
“I’m trying to keep you alive.”
The words came out before Victor considered them.
Clare stared at him.
“So now you believe me?”
“I don’t know what I believe.”
Victor looked at the photograph again.
Elias Mercer.
Twenty years earlier, Elias had been the closest thing Victor had to family.
They met at nineteen while working nights unloading freight.
Victor had been angry at everything.
Elias had laughed at everything.
They should have hated each other.
Instead they became inseparable.
When Victor’s mother died, Elias sat beside him for five hours without speaking.
When Victor finally broke, Elias hugged him.
Five minutes.
Three hundred seconds.
One Mississippi at a time.
Three years later, Elias vanished.
Victor was told he had died.
There had been a burned car.
A body too badly damaged for visual identification.
Dental records confirmed it.
Victor had attended an empty funeral.
And now Elias had a daughter standing three feet away.
“Tell me everything,” Victor said.
Clare shook her head.
“I can’t.”
“Elias is dead.”
“Yes.”
“This time?”
Pain crossed her face.
“Yes.”
Victor looked away.
That answer hurt more than he expected.
“How?”
“Car accident.”
“Another one?”
Clare understood the accusation.
“This one was real.”
“Were you there?”
“No.”
“Did you identify him?”
“Yes.”
“How long ago?”
“Eleven months.”
Victor’s gaze shifted to Maisie.
She was playing with the green ribbon in her hair.
“How old was she?”
“Three.”
“Did he ever tell her about me?”
“Not by name.”
“Only Mr. V?”
Clare nodded.
“Why?”
“He said names were dangerous.”
Victor laughed once without humor.
“Elias never used to be dramatic.”
“He changed.”
“So did I.”
“I know.”
The way she said it made Victor look at her.
“How much did he tell you?”
“Enough.”
“Meaning?”
“He knew who you became.”
Victor’s expression hardened.
Clare continued before he could interrupt.
“He followed your life from a distance. Newspaper stories. Business articles. Interviews.”
“And never contacted me.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because he thought staying dead protected you.”
Victor stared at her.
“From whom?”
Clare’s lips parted.
Then the lights went out.
Maisie screamed.
Victor moved instantly.
He crossed the darkness, guided by memory, and reached Clare before she could stumble.
“Vincent!”
“Here.”
Emergency lights flickered red along the floor.
Vincent drew his phone.
“No signal.”
Victor looked toward the hallway.
“Backup generator?”
“Should already be running.”
Maisie buried her face against Clare.
Victor lowered his voice.
“Hey.”
Maisie peeked at him.
“Remember Bunny?”
She nodded.
“He needs you to be brave for him.”
“Bunny’s always brave.”
“Then copy Bunny.”
That earned the smallest smile.
Vincent returned from the doorway.
“Security system is down.”
“Whole building?”
“Just this floor.”
Victor looked at Clare.
The intruder hadn’t come for him.
Not exactly.
The timing was too precise.
Someone had entered minutes after Bunny reached Victor.
Someone knew what Elias had hidden.
Victor opened his hand.
The brass key remained there.
“What does this open?”
Clare shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“Daniel never showed it to me.”
“Elias.”
“He was Daniel to me.”
Victor heard the hurt and stopped.
Of course he had been.
Elias belonged to Victor’s past.
Daniel belonged to Clare’s life.
Both could be true.
Victor examined the key.
A number was engraved near the base.
“Safety-deposit box?” Vincent suggested.
“Possibly.”
Clare suddenly stared at the number.
Victor noticed.
“You recognize it.”
“No.”
“Clare.”
She hesitated.
“Daniel used to write 317 on things.”
“What things?”
“Receipts. Grocery lists. Sometimes the calendar.”
“Why?”
“I thought it was a habit.”
Victor turned the key over.
There was another engraving.
Not numbers.
Initials.
E.M.
Vincent’s phone suddenly regained signal.
Messages flooded the screen.
He read one.
Then another.
“What?”
“We have a breach in the garage.”
Victor looked toward the windows.
“Same person?”
“Unknown.”
A knock came from the hallway.
Three short taps.
Pause.
Two taps.
Clare’s face changed.
Victor saw it immediately.
“What?”
She backed away.
“What is it?”
“Daniel.”
Victor stared at her.
“What about him?”
“That knock.”
Three.
Pause.
Two.
“He used it whenever he came home late so he wouldn’t wake Maisie.”
Another knock sounded.
Three.
Pause.
Two.
Maisie lifted her head.
Her face lit up.
“Daddy?”
Clare nearly collapsed.
Victor caught her arm.
“No.”
Maisie wriggled.
“Daddy!”
She ran toward the door.
Victor reached her first.
He lifted her easily and handed her to Clare.
“Stay behind me.”
Vincent positioned himself beside the door.
“Who’s there?”
Silence.
Then something slid underneath.
A white envelope.
Victor stared at it.
His name was written across the front.
Not Victor Calder.
The name said:
VIC.
Nobody had called him that since Elias disappeared.
Victor picked up the envelope.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
Five words.
YOU BURIED THE WRONG MAN.
Clare read over his shoulder.
Her breath caught.
Victor turned toward Vincent.
“Find whoever delivered this.”
Vincent opened the door.
The hallway was empty.
At the far end, the service elevator doors were closing.
Vincent ran.
Victor remained with Clare.
The emergency lights flickered.
Then normal power returned.
Maisie looked at the paper.
“What does it say?”
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
“That means grown-up bad stuff.”
Despite everything, Victor almost laughed.
Clare didn’t.
She stared at the message.
“There’s something else.”
Victor waited.
“When Daniel was dying…”
Her voice failed.
“What?”
“He called me.”
Victor’s stomach tightened.
“He said someone had found us.”
“Who?”
“He wouldn’t say.”
“What exactly did he tell you?”
Clare wiped her eyes.
“He told me to move. Change Maisie’s school. Find work somewhere secure.”
Victor already knew the rest.
“He told you to work for me.”
“Yes.”
Victor went still.
“He sent you here?”
Clare nodded.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because his final instruction was never to tell you who we were unless Maisie was in danger.”
Victor looked toward the envelope.
“And is she?”
Clare’s silence answered.
Vincent returned.
“Lost him.”
Victor frowned.
“You?”
“Service elevator stopped on four floors. Cameras were looped.”
Victor looked down at the key.
“Find every bank, hotel, storage facility, and private vault where 317 could matter.”
Vincent nodded.
Victor turned to Clare.
“You and Maisie stay here.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t get to decide that.”
“Elias trusted me enough to send you here.”
“He trusted the security around you.”
“Today those are the same thing.”
Clare looked ready to argue.
Then Maisie yawned against her shoulder.
The fight left her.
Victor crouched beside Maisie.
“Would you like breakfast?”
She nodded.
“Pancakes?”
“With faces.”
Victor glanced toward Vincent.
Vincent, who had handled corporate threats without blinking, looked deeply uncertain.
“I’ll tell the kitchen.”
“And strawberries,” Maisie said.
Vincent nodded solemnly.
“And strawberries.”
As he left, Victor looked again at Bunny.
Three fresh stitches.
“Clare.”
She followed his gaze.
“What?”
“Who repaired the rabbit?”
“I did, months ago.”
“Those stitches aren’t months old.”
Clare frowned.
Victor handed Bunny to her.
She examined the seam.
Her expression slowly changed.
“I didn’t do these.”
Victor felt cold again.
“When was the last time Bunny was out of your possession?”
Clare looked at Maisie.
“Yesterday.”
“Where?”
Maisie answered.
“School.”
Victor and Clare looked at each other.
Victor carefully reopened the seam.
He reached deeper this time.
His fingers found something they had missed.
A tiny memory card.
Clare whispered, “Daniel.”
Victor held it under the light.
A small white sticker covered one side.
Three handwritten characters appeared on it.
V.C.3.
Vincent returned.
“Victor, you need to see this.”
He held up his phone.
A banking search had produced a match.
Box 317 belonged to a private vault company downtown.
May you like
The registered owner was Elias Mercer.
And according to the company’s access records, someone had opened the box yesterday.
