Chapter 8 - THE ABDUCTION
Lucas couldn’t breathe.
“EMMA!”
He ran to the window.
A service alley stretched behind the hotel.
Empty.
Police flooded the room.
Grace stood frozen.
“No. No, I was just here.”
Lucas grabbed the unconscious officer.
“Wake up!”
“Lucas!” another officer shouted.
He stepped back.
The officer had a pulse.
Someone had struck him from behind.
Security footage showed a maintenance worker entering the room.
Except he wasn’t a maintenance worker.
Diane recognized him.
“Michael Cole.”
Lucas turned.
“Vanessa’s brother?”
Diane nodded.
“He works for Charles.”
Lucas’s phone buzzed.
A photograph appeared.
Emma.
Sitting in the back seat of a car.
Terrified.
A message followed.
Bring Rachel’s box. Come alone.
Then an address.
An abandoned warehouse on the river.
Grace grabbed his arm.
“You’re not going alone.”
“If I don’t—”
“You think they’ll return Emma because you follow instructions?”
Lucas knew she was right.
Police arranged a tactical response.
But Lucas insisted on entering first.
“No.”
The detective shook his head.
“We don’t send civilians into hostage situations.”
“They want me.”
“They want the evidence.”
“They have my daughter.”
The detective stared at him.
“Then don’t make her lose her father too.”
Lucas hated the logic.
But he listened.
Police surrounded the warehouse.
Lucas called Vanessa.
She answered instantly.
“You brought the box?”
“Yes.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
“That was stupid.”
Lucas looked at the officers around him.
“You wanted me here.”
“I wanted the evidence.”
“Let me hear Emma.”
Silence.
“Vanessa.”
A small voice came through.
“Daddy?”
Lucas closed his eyes.
“I’m here, sweetheart.”
“I’m sorry.”
His heart broke.
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“They’re angry.”
“I know.”
“Daddy…”
“Yes?”
“I remembered something.”
Vanessa shouted in the background.
“Hang up!”
Emma rushed the words.
“The red car didn’t hit Mommy!”
The line went dead.
Lucas stared at the phone.
Police prepared to move.
But Lucas’s mind was stuck on Emma’s sentence.
The red car didn’t hit Rachel.
Then what caused the crash?
A second call came.
Not Vanessa.
Charles Mercer.
Somehow calling from police custody.
“Lucas.”
“How are you calling me?”
Charles laughed.
“You’re still asking the wrong questions.”
Lucas’s jaw tightened.
“What happened to Rachel?”
“You’ve spent four years believing she died in that car.”
“She did.”
“Did she?”
Lucas went cold.
“What are you saying?”
Charles lowered his voice.
“They never found Rachel’s body.”
Lucas stopped breathing.
“The car burned.”
“That isn’t what I said.”
Lucas looked toward the warehouse.
May you like
Charles whispered,
“Rachel survived the crash.”
