Chapter 6
I called the guesthouse first.
No answer.
Then Mrs. Fallon.
No answer.
Then Dr. Sayegh.
Nothing.
Elena saw my face and grabbed my arm.
“Caleb?”
I showed her the photo.
The sound she made was not a scream.
It was worse.
A mother’s breath leaving her body.
Marlow drew his gun and moved toward the vault entrance.
“Stay here.”
Elena snapped, “No.”
He looked at me.
I shook my head.
“She won’t.”
We ran.
By the time we reached the car, I had called every man still loyal to me.
The estate was forty minutes away.
Too far.
Too much time for a child.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown.
I answered.
A voice I had not heard in two years slid into my ear.
“Adrian.”
Victor Kane.
Older.
Softer.
Rotten silk.
“Victor.”
“You opened Daniel’s box.”
“You entered my house twice in one day. Desperate?”
He chuckled.
“I entered your life years ago. You were simply too proud to notice.”
Elena stood close enough to hear.
Her face was white.
I put the call on speaker.
Kane continued.
“The boy is charming. Giving away medicine. Daniel did raise him better than expected.”
Elena whispered, “Touch him and I’ll kill you.”
Kane paused.
“Ah. Mrs. Mercer. Daniel chose well.”
“Where is my son?”
“Safe. For now.”
I said, “What do you want?”
“The flash drive. The letters. Everything Daniel left.”
“You could have burned them.”
“I tried. Your sentimentality interfered.”
Marlow mouthed, Trace?
I shook my head.
Kane was too careful.
Kane said, “Bring the drive to St. Agnes Hospice in Queens. Alone.”
I laughed.
“No.”
Caleb’s voice came through the phone.
“Mom?”
Elena broke.
“Caleb!”
“Mom, I’m okay. Mrs. Fallon is asleep but breathing. The doctor too. They said if I cry, they’ll—”
The line muffled.
Kane returned.
“Alone, Adrian.”
Then he hung up.
Elena grabbed the car door.
“We go.”
“Yes.”
“Not alone.”
“No.”
Marlow said, “St. Agnes closed six years ago.”
I looked at him.
“Then why use it?”
His face hardened.
“Because nobody checks closed places.”
On the drive, we watched the flash drive contents on a secured laptop.
Daniel had built a map.
Hospice charities.
Medical transport vendors.
Shell pharmacies.
False patient records.
Children’s medication shipments diverted and replaced.
Families pressured into silence.
Doctors paid off.
And one file named Isabella_Door.
Inside was video.
A woman in her late twenties.
Thin.
Dark hair.
Same haunted eyes as the teenage photo.
She spoke into the camera.
“My name is Isabella Kane. If you are watching this, Daniel is either gone or unable to finish what he started.”
Elena covered her mouth.
Isabella continued.
“My father built his new empire under mercy. Hospices. Pediatric care. Charity pharmacies. People do not question kindness when paperwork has the right logo.”
Her voice shook.
“The door is St. Agnes. Underground ward. Old records room. Access phrase: night lilies.”
Night lilies.
My wife’s favorite flowers.
Kane always did love cruelty with poetry.
The video ended with Isabella looking off camera.
A man spoke.
Daniel.
“Say where I am.”
She shook her head.
“If I do, he’ll move you.”
Elena froze.
Daniel’s voice.
Alive.
The laptop screen went black.
She grabbed it.
“Play it again.”
I did.
Daniel’s voice filled the car again.
Only five words.
But enough to resurrect hope and torture at the same time.
Say where I am.
Elena cried silently.
Marlow turned toward Queens.
“We need state tactical.”
“No,” I said.
He glared.
“Adrian.”
“Kane will kill Caleb if police swarm.”
“He’ll kill him anyway if you walk in blind.”
“I’m not walking in blind.”
I called someone I had not spoken to in years.
My brother, Luca.
Blood relation.
Not friend.
Not ally.
A man who hated me enough to tell me the truth.
He answered on the fifth ring.
“I heard your house burned.”
“I need men at St. Agnes Hospice. Quiet. No police lights. No glory.”
A pause.
“Victor Kane?”
“Yes.”
Another pause.
“You finally admitting he’s smarter than you?”
“I’m admitting he has a child.”
Luca sighed.
“I’ll bring twelve.”
“Bring twenty.”
He laughed.
“There’s my brother.”
We reached St. Agnes at dusk.
The building stood behind a rusted fence, dark windows staring over cracked pavement.
No lights.
No signs of life.
But I smelled cigarette smoke.
And bleach.
Places people abandoned did not smell clean.
Kane had people inside.
Elena held Daniel’s letters against her chest.
Marlow checked his weapon.
My phone buzzed again.
Basement entrance. Bring the drive. Leave the mother outside.
Elena read it.
“No.”
I looked at her.
“No.”
She stepped close.
“If Caleb sees only you, he’ll be scared. If Daniel is inside and hears me, he’ll fight harder. I am done being left outside while men decide what danger I’m allowed to face.”
Marlow muttered, “I like her.”
I didn’t.
That was the problem.
Caring made strategy messy.
But she was right.
We entered through the basement.
The air smelled of disinfectant and mold.
A camera followed us from the corner.
I lifted the flash drive.
“I’m here.”
A speaker crackled.
“Old friends below, Adrian.”
Elena whispered, “Night lilies.”
A metal door buzzed open.
We stepped inside.
And at the end of the corridor, behind glass, Caleb sat strapped to a hospital chair.
Beside him stood Daniel Mercer.
May you like
Alive.
Barely.
