Chapter 3
That night, I did not take Ellie home.
I wanted to.
God, I wanted my own bed, my own kitchen, my own locks, my own life from before.
But before no longer existed.
Dana Bell met us in a side room with two detectives, a child advocate, and Hammer Dawson sitting in the farthest chair from Ellie.
He kept distance like it mattered.
Like he understood that safety was not something adults could demand from a child.
The red heart was still on his face.
Smudged now.
Faded at the edges.
But there.
Ellie stared at it as if it were a promise.
Dana crouched in front of us.
“Grace, we need to place you and Ellie somewhere secure tonight.”
My throat tightened.
“Because of what Victor said?”
“Because of what he implied.”
One detective, Mark Ruiz, set a folder on the table.
“We searched Lane’s property after the rescue. We found the basement room where Ellie was held, but nothing else. If she remembers more rooms, we may have missed something.”
I looked at my daughter.
Her eyes were empty and wide.
“She told you about the blue room,” I said.
“We couldn’t locate it,” Ruiz admitted. “The house had been cleaned.”
Hammer’s fist tightened on his knee.
I saw it.
So did Ellie.
“Don’t be mad,” she whispered.
Hammer looked destroyed.
“I’m not mad at you, little bird.”
The nickname hit me hard.
Little bird.
Ellie did not flinch from it.
She leaned against my side.
“He called the other girl that,” she said.
My heart stopped.
Dana’s hand froze above her notepad.
“What other girl?”
Ellie shut her eyes.
“The one in the wall.”
I started shaking.
“Baby, what does that mean?”
She covered her ears.
“She knocked. At night. I knocked back.”
Hammer made a sound like pain had been punched out of him.
Dana looked at the detectives.
“Get the warrant expanded. Now.”
Ruiz stood.
“We’ll wake the judge.”
Hammer stood too.
“I’m going with you.”
“No,” Ruiz said.
Hammer’s stare hardened.
“My granddaughter may be in that ground.”
The room went cold.
Dana stepped between them.
“Ray, if you go, the defense will say you contaminated evidence. Let us do this right.”
Hammer’s jaw worked.
Then he looked at Ellie.
She was watching him carefully.
He sat back down.
“All right,” he said. “For her.”
Those two words made Ellie cry.
Quietly.
Without sound.
I wiped her cheeks and hated every person who had made my child learn to cry silently.
The safe house was a brick ranch on the edge of town with cameras, deadbolts, and a deputy outside.
I put Ellie in the bed beside mine.
She would not sleep unless the lights stayed on.
At 2:13 a.m., my phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
A photo appeared.
My front porch.
My house.
My mailbox.
Then a message.
Tell the old man to stop digging.
My hand went numb.
I ran to the hallway and showed the deputy.
Within minutes, the safe house filled with people.
Radios.
Questions.
Fear dressed up as procedure.
Ellie woke and saw my face.
“He found us?” she asked.
I lied badly.
“No, sweetheart.”
She sat up.
“He always finds girls.”
I could not breathe.
Dana arrived with wet hair and no makeup, her coat thrown over pajamas.
She took my phone.
“Grace, listen to me. This is not Victor. He’s in custody. This means he has someone outside.”
Hammer appeared behind her.
I did not know who had called him.
I did not care.
Ellie got out of bed and ran to him before I could stop her.
He dropped to one knee.
Still careful.
Still open-handed.
She stopped inches from him.
“Did your little bird get found?” she asked.
Hammer’s face collapsed.
“No.”
Ellie reached into her pajama pocket and pulled out another red charm.
I stared.
“How many did you take?”
“Three,” she whispered.
Dana closed her eyes.
“Ellie.”
My daughter looked at Hammer.
“I didn’t know which one had the eye.”
Hammer bowed his head.
“You brave little thing.”
The second charm was different.
No black dot.
But there were scratches on the back.
Numbers.
Not drawn.
Carved.
Ruiz photographed it under a lamp.
His face changed.
“These look like coordinates.”
Dana grabbed the image.
“Can we map them?”
Ruiz was already typing.
The room waited.
Ellie held my hand so tightly it hurt.
Hammer stood behind her like a wall.
Then Ruiz looked up.
“The coordinates point to a storage facility outside Decatur.”
Dana’s eyes sharpened.
“What name is the unit under?”
Ruiz swallowed.
“Not Victor Lane.”
He turned the laptop toward us.
The account name filled the screen.
May you like
CALVIN HART.
My brother.
