Chapter 3 - TRUST NO ONE
I stopped breathing.
Matteo looked back.
“Move.”
I stared at the message.
MATTEO WORKS FOR THEM.
“Catherine?”
I stepped away from him.
His eyes narrowed.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Your face says otherwise.”
I put my phone in my pocket.
Logan wrapped his arms around my neck.
“Mommy, I want to go home.”
“Me too, baby.”
Matteo stepped closer.
“We don’t have time.”
“Who are you?”
“I told you.”
“No. Who do you really work for?”
His expression changed.
Not much.
Enough.
“I work for Alessandro.”
“Russo did too.”
He swore softly.
“Show me your phone.”
“No.”
“Show me.”
“Why?”
“Because whoever texted you wants you scared.”
“How did you know I got a text?”
He glanced toward my pocket.
“You looked at your phone and then started backing away.”
Fair.
Still, I didn’t trust him.
A door opened below.
Matteo grabbed my arm.
I jerked away.
“Don’t touch me.”
“Then get shot standing here.”
Three men entered the stairwell.
Dark uniforms.
No hospital badges.
Matteo pushed us behind the concrete wall and fired once.
The men scattered.
“GO!”
I ran upward.
Fifth floor.
The rehabilitation garden.
I burst through the door.
Dark.
Empty.
Moonlight spilled through tall windows.
Logan was shaking.
“Mommy…”
“I’ve got you.”
Matteo came through seconds later.
“Door won’t hold long.”
I searched the garden.
Benches.
Planters.
A small fountain.
The same fountain David had sat beside while holding baby Logan.
“Where, David?” I whispered.
Remember where Logan took his first steps.
I looked at the bench.
A brass plaque had been attached to its back years ago.
IN MEMORY OF ELIZABETH CARTER.
I ran my fingers underneath.
Nothing.
The fountain.
Nothing.
Then Logan pointed.
“Daddy tree.”
I froze.
“What?”
“The Daddy tree.”
He pointed at a small indoor maple.
I had forgotten.
David had taken a picture beside it after Logan’s first steps.
Later he showed Logan that photo hundreds of times.
“That’s you with Daddy’s tree.”
I dropped to my knees beside the planter.
The soil looked normal.
I dug with my hands.
Matteo watched the door.
“Hurry.”
My fingers struck metal.
I pulled out a small waterproof box.
My heart hammered.
Inside was a key.
A USB drive.
And a folded photograph.
I opened the photograph.
David.
Alive.
Standing beside Alessandro Romano.
The date stamped in the corner was three months after David’s funeral.
My eyes filled with tears.
“You bastard.”
I didn’t know if I meant David or Alessandro.
Maybe both.
On the back of the photograph, David had written:
CAT, IF YOU FIND THIS, THEY KNOW ABOUT YOU.
DON’T TRUST THE POLICE.
DON’T TRUST THE FBI.
AND WHATEVER HAPPENS, DO NOT LET THEM TAKE LOGAN.
I stared at the final line.
Why Logan?
A loud bang shook the stairwell door.
Matteo turned.
“We’re out of time.”
I held up the USB.
“What’s on this?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then why are people trying to kill me?”
Another bang.
The lock bent.
Matteo grabbed a metal cabinet and shoved it against the door.
“Maybe because of that.”
Logan began crying harder.
I hugged him.
“Listen to me. We’re playing a game now.”
He sniffed.
“What game?”
“Hide-and-go-fast.”
“That’s not a game.”
“It is tonight.”
That almost made him smile.
Matteo pointed toward the service elevator.
“Maintenance shaft. Come on.”
We reached it as the stairwell door burst open.
Gunfire cracked across the garden.
Glass shattered.
Matteo fired back.
I crouched behind the fountain with Logan.
“Stay down!”
A bullet tore into the wall above us.
Matteo hit the elevator control.
Nothing.
“Damn it.”
I saw a housekeeping door.
“My key card.”
“What?”
“I work here!”
I ran.
Swiped my badge.
Green light.
We entered a linen corridor.
Matteo slammed the door and jammed a mop handle through it.
We kept moving.
At the end of the hall was a freight elevator.
My badge worked again.
The doors opened.
We stepped inside.
Matteo hit Basement 2.
The elevator descended.
My phone vibrated again.
Same unknown number.
This time there was a photograph.
Live.
Alessandro lying in his hospital bed.
A gun pressed against his head.
May you like
Below it were four words.
BRING US THE BOY.
