Chapter 6 - The House by the Lake
They reached Lake Geneva before sunrise.
Smoke was visible from half a mile away.
Claire stared through the windshield as the SUV climbed the narrow road.
The house sat beyond a line of bare trees.
Flames had already consumed the western side.
Fire crews surrounded the property.
Vincent's men stopped short of the emergency vehicles.
Claire opened the door before the SUV stopped moving.
Vincent caught up.
"Claire."
She ran.
Daniel followed.
A firefighter blocked them.
"You can't go closer."
"My parents are inside!"
The firefighter looked at her.
"Ma'am, we don't know who's inside."
Claire pointed toward the burning house.
"My mother and father."
Daniel pulled her back.
"Claire."
"No."
He held her shoulders.
"We don't know."
"They were here."
"Grant saw them last week."
"Then they're here."
Vincent spoke to Marco.
"Check local hospitals."
Marco moved away.
Claire stared at the house.
Part of the roof collapsed.
She flinched.
Daniel held her tighter.
For years she had imagined finding her parents.
Sometimes her father was imprisoned.
Sometimes her mother had secretly survived cancer.
Sometimes both were simply waiting somewhere, unable to reach her.
She had never imagined finding them ten minutes too late.
A firefighter approached.
"We found evidence somebody was here."
Claire's face drained.
"Bodies?"
"No."
She inhaled sharply.
"Bedrooms were occupied recently."
"How recently?"
"Could be hours."
Vincent looked toward the road.
"Warren burned it after moving them."
Daniel nodded.
"Destroying evidence."
Claire turned.
"Or killing them."
Vincent looked at her.
"If Warren wanted them dead, he had eight years."
The logic helped.
Barely.
Marco returned.
"No unidentified patients at nearby hospitals."
Daniel studied the property.
"Can we search once the fire's contained?"
Vincent answered.
"We will."
Two hours later, they entered what remained.
The kitchen had survived best.
Claire walked through blackened rooms where people she loved may have lived for years.
On one wall hung photographs.
Most had burned.
One frame remained.
Claire lifted it.
Her mother.
Alive.
Standing beside the lake.
The photo was dated three months earlier.
Daniel sat down on a scorched chair.
He stared at the picture.
"She was alive."
Claire handed it to him.
His hands shook.
"She was alive this whole time."
Vincent gave them space.
Marco searched the adjoining room.
"Boss."
Vincent joined him.
A hidden panel had been uncovered behind a bookshelf.
Inside was a safe.
Claire approached.
"Locked?"
Marco nodded.
Vincent looked at Claire's bracelet.
"Warren has the original."
Claire touched her wrist.
"But I remember the number."
Marco tried it.
Nothing.
Daniel stepped closer.
"Maybe reverse."
Nothing.
Claire stared at the keypad.
Four digits.
She whispered, "Our apartment wasn't 417."
Daniel frowned.
"Yes, it was."
"No."
She looked at him.
"The building number was 417."
Daniel's eyes widened.
"Our apartment..."
"Six."
Claire entered 0417 first.
Nothing.
Then 0006.
A click.
The safe opened.
Inside lay a single green book.
The Secret Garden.
Claire began crying.
Her mother's initials appeared inside the cover.
E.S.
Daniel touched them.
"This is it."
Vincent looked at Claire.
"Do you remember the code?"
"Page four. Line one. Word seven."
They opened the book.
Counted.
The seventh word was "key."
Daniel frowned.
"That's not enough."
Claire looked again at the bracelet memory.
4-1-7.
"Maybe each number is separate."
Page four.
Line one.
Seventh word.
Key.
Then another marking appeared faintly beneath the word.
A pencil dot.
Claire turned the page.
More dots.
Vincent noticed.
"Someone marked specific words."
They followed them.
Key.
Below.
Mother.
Clock.
Home.
Daniel stared.
"Key below mother's clock at home."
Claire froze.
Their mother's clock.
A wooden mantel clock from the old apartment.
Their mother had kept it for years.
After Eleanor's funeral, Claire inherited it.
It sat in Claire's storage unit.
Chicago.
Vincent immediately called Marco.
"Send men to the storage facility."
Claire shook her head.
"Warren will know."
"Then we get there first."
They left the burned house carrying the book.
Halfway to Chicago, Marco's team reached the storage facility.
The clock was gone.
Claire did not even feel surprised.
Daniel cursed.
Vincent asked, "Security footage?"
"Checking."
Five minutes later, they received an image.
A woman entered Claire's storage unit at 2:17 a.m.
Silver-blonde hair.
Small frame.
Blue eyes.
Claire stared.
"Mom."
Eleanor Sullivan had taken the clock herself.
Daniel looked at the timestamp.
"She was alive after the fire started."
Claire began laughing through tears.
"She got out."
Vincent watched the video.
Eleanor carried the clock toward a parked sedan.
She looked directly toward the camera before getting inside.
Then she held up a piece of paper.
Marco froze the frame.
Three words.
UNION STATION. NOON.
Claire checked the time.
10:36 a.m.
Vincent said, "It's a trap."
Claire smiled faintly.
"Of course it is."
At noon, Union Station was packed.
Vincent wanted twenty men.
Claire allowed four.
"I haven't seen my mother in eight years. I'm not walking toward her with an army."
Vincent stayed beside her.
"You are walking toward her with me."
Claire looked at him.
"I noticed."
Daniel walked on her other side.
They reached the Great Hall.
Travelers crossed beneath the massive ceiling.
Claire scanned every face.
Then she saw her.
Eleanor Sullivan stood near a column.
Silver-blonde hair.
Blue coat.
Older.
Alive.
Claire stopped.
Her mother looked directly at her.
For a moment neither moved.
Then Claire ran.
"Mom."
Eleanor opened her arms.
Claire collided with her.
Years disappeared.
She was thirty again and twelve again at the same time.
Eleanor held her face.
"My baby."
Claire cried openly.
"You were alive."
"I'm sorry."
"Why?"
"I couldn't contact you."
"Why?"
Eleanor looked toward Daniel.
Her expression broke.
Daniel stood several feet away.
"Mom."
Eleanor covered her mouth.
He approached slowly.
She slapped him.
Daniel laughed through tears.
"I deserved that."
Then she pulled him into her arms.
Vincent looked away.
Some moments belonged only to families.
Claire eventually asked the question.
"Where is Dad?"
Eleanor's expression changed.
"Safe for now."
"Where?"
"We have to leave."
"Mom."
Eleanor looked around.
"Warren followed me."
Vincent straightened.
"How do you know?"
"He always does."
Claire stepped closer.
"Where is the clock?"
Eleanor looked at her.
"Not here."
"The key?"
"With Patrick."
Daniel stared.
"Dad remembers?"
"Some things."
"Does he know where the ledger is?"
Eleanor's face tightened.
"No."
Vincent studied her.
"You're lying."
Claire looked at him.
Eleanor did too.
Vincent continued.
"You've been running for eight years because the ledger is still valuable. If Patrick truly forgot everything, Warren would've stopped keeping him alive."
Eleanor said nothing.
Vincent stepped closer.
"Patrick remembers enough."
Eleanor finally nodded.
"He remembers the final key."
Claire whispered, "Where is he?"
Eleanor looked at her daughter.
"In Chicago."
Claire blinked.
"We drove to Wisconsin because Warren wanted everyone watching the lake."
"Where in Chicago?"
Eleanor hesitated.
Then gunfire cracked through the Great Hall.
People screamed.
Vincent pulled Claire down.
Daniel covered Eleanor.
Marco's men moved.
A second shot hit the column.
Panic spread.
Warren appeared across the hall.
He did not carry a gun.
He did not need one.
Men around him did.
Eleanor shouted, "Run!"
They moved toward the south corridor.
Claire held her mother's hand.
Vincent stayed behind them.
Daniel returned fire.
They reached a service stairwell.
Eleanor stopped.
"No."
"What?"
"Patrick."
Claire stared.
"What about him?"
Eleanor pointed upward.
"He's here."
Daniel froze.
"At Union Station?"
Eleanor nodded.
"Private office. Third floor."
Vincent looked back toward Warren's approaching men.
"Then move."
They climbed.
Second floor.
Third.
A locked corridor.
Eleanor produced a key.
They reached an old administrative office.
Claire could barely breathe.
Her father was behind that door.
Alive.
After eight years.
Eleanor placed her hand on the knob.
Then stopped.
The door was already open.
Claire heard a chair scrape inside.
May you like
A man's voice whispered her childhood nickname.
And someone else was standing in the room with him.
