Chapter 2 - THE MAN IN THE HIDDEN ROOM
Anthony moved before I did.
He raised his weapon and turned toward the darkness beyond the chamber.
“Stay with him.”
Then he disappeared into the passage.
One security officer followed.
I hated being told what to do.
For once, I listened.
The unconscious man’s breathing was shallow but steady.
I crouched beside him.
The chain around his ankle had been secured with a modern steel lock.
That detail mattered.
The hidden passage might have been a century old.
His captivity was not.
Behind me, Mia whispered my name.
I turned sharply.
She stood at the entrance to the corridor.
“Mia.”
“I told you to stay in the study.”
“I heard running.”
“Go back.”
She looked at the chained man.
Her face changed.
“Is he the knocking man?”
“Yes.”
“Is he dead?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
She studied him for several seconds.
Then pointed.
“He has Mama’s picture.”
I looked down.
A corner of paper protruded from his jacket pocket.
I pulled it free.
It was a photograph.
Grace.
Younger.
Standing beside a smiling man outside a small brick apartment building.
Grace was visibly pregnant.
The man beside her had one hand over her stomach.
My attention went from the photograph to the unconscious stranger.
Same eyes.
Same crooked nose.
Same man.
I felt cold.
“Mia.”
She walked closer.
“Have you seen him before?”
She studied the photograph.
Then the stranger.
“No.”
“Do you know who he is?”
She shook her head.
I already suspected the answer.
The timing fit.
The age fit.
The photograph fit.
Before I could decide what to do, Grace appeared at the end of the passage supported by my physician.
“Mr. Duca?”
Her voice echoed off the bricks.
I stood too quickly.
“You should be downstairs.”
“I heard shouting.”
Then she saw the man on the floor.
The color vanished from her face.
Her knees buckled.
The doctor caught her.
Grace made a sound I would remember for the rest of my life.
Not a scream.
Something smaller.
More broken.
“Evan?”
She stumbled forward.
The doctor tried to stop her.
She tore free.
“Evan.”
She dropped beside him.
Her hands shook as she touched his face.
“Evan.”
Mia stared at her mother.
“Mama?”
Grace looked up.
Tears were already streaming down her cheeks.
“Mia, go upstairs.”
“Who is he?”
“Mia.”
“Who is he?”
Grace closed her eyes.
Then she looked at her daughter.
“He’s your father.”
Silence swallowed the corridor.
Mia did not move.
The baby started crying upstairs.
No one reacted.
Mia looked at Evan.
Then at Grace.
“You said Daddy died.”
Grace covered her mouth.
“I thought he did.”
The child backed away.
I moved toward her instinctively.
She avoided me too.
“You lied.”
“No, baby.”
“I didn’t.”
Mia’s voice became louder.
“You told me he went to heaven.”
“I believed that.”
“How can you think someone is dead if they’re not dead?”
Grace had no answer that could satisfy a six-year-old.
Neither did I.
The doctor knelt beside Evan.
“We need an ambulance.”
“No hospital.”
Evan’s eyes opened.
Everyone froze.
He grabbed Grace’s wrist.
“No hospital.”
She sobbed.
“Oh my God.”
“You’re alive.”
He looked at her.
Something like disbelief crossed his face.
“So are you.”
Grace laughed through tears.
“Of course I am.”
He frowned.
“They told me you were dead.”
The corridor went still again.
“Who?”
I asked.
Evan turned toward me.
His eyes sharpened.
“Mercer.”
“Which Mercer?”
He tried to sit up.
Failed.
“Daniel.”
The name landed like a stone.
Daniel Mercer was chairman of Duca Strategic Holdings.
He had been my father’s oldest friend.
After my father’s death, Daniel became my guardian.
My mentor.
The man who taught me to negotiate.
The man who gave the toast at my thirtieth birthday.
The man whose judgment I trusted when everyone else in Boston seemed to have an angle.
He had also recommended Helen Mercer to manage this house.
Helen was his younger sister.
Anthony returned.
“No one.”
He holstered his weapon.
“Passage exits through an old coal door behind the neighboring townhouse.”
Then he saw Grace holding Evan.
He stopped.
“That’s her husband?”
“Yes.”
Anthony swore quietly.
I looked at Evan.
“How long have you been here?”
“Four days.”
Grace recoiled.
“Four days?”
“I came looking for something.”
He looked at me.
“Something your father hid.”
“What?”
“A ledger.”
The word seemed absurd.
“You were chained inside my wall over a ledger?”
Evan gave me a tired smile.
“You have no idea what your father built.”
“My father built an investment firm.”
“No.”
“He built a trap.”
I crouched.
“For whom?”
Evan looked straight into my eyes.
“For Daniel Mercer.”
Before he could continue, his body convulsed with a violent cough.
The doctor intervened.
“That’s enough.”
Evan fought him.
“Listen to me.”
“We’ll listen after you’re stabilized.”
“No police.”
Anthony looked at me.
Evan noticed.
“If Mercer controls even half the people he did nine years ago, police are the fastest way to get Grace killed.”
Grace went pale.
“Nine years?”
She asked.
“You disappeared seven years ago.”
Evan looked confused.
“What year is it?”
That question chilled everyone.
Grace told him.
He stared at her.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
He shook his head.
“That’s impossible.”
Tears appeared in his eyes.
“Mia was barely born.”
Grace covered her face.
Mia stood completely motionless.
Evan turned.
For the first time, he truly saw her.
“Mia?”
She did not answer.
His expression collapsed.
“Oh.”
One word.
Seven stolen years inside it.
“Mia.”
She moved behind my leg.
I felt her small hand close around the fabric of my coat.
Evan noticed.
Pain crossed his face, but he did not reach for her.
That was the first thing he did right.
He understood she did not know him.
The doctor insisted we move Evan downstairs.
Anthony cut the chain.
We carried him through the secret corridor and into a guest bedroom.
Grace followed.
Mia stayed with me.
At 3:18 a.m., while the doctor treated Evan for dehydration, bruising, and an untreated ankle injury, I stood in my study staring at the brass key he had given me.
Anthony entered.
“You’re thinking too loudly.”
“I’m thinking my father’s closest friend may have imprisoned a man inside my house.”
“Technically we don’t know who imprisoned him.”
“Evan named Daniel.”
“He also doesn’t know what year it is.”
“He recognized me.”
“He recognized your face.”
“You look like your father.”
I turned.
“Do you believe him?”
Anthony leaned against the desk.
“I believe someone chained him to a pipe.”
“That’s a start.”
“And I believe somebody has been using that passage recently.”
“Also a start.”
“I don’t believe anything beyond that without evidence.”
That was why I kept Anthony close.
Loyalty without skepticism was useless.
I looked at the key.
“What does this open?”
He held out his hand.
I gave it to him.
He examined the teeth.
“Old safe-deposit style.”
“Bank?”
“Possibly.”
“Any markings?”
He turned it over.
Three letters had been stamped into the metal.
B.H.T.
Anthony frowned.
“Beacon Hill Trust?”
The bank had closed in 2009.
Its records and private vault contracts had been absorbed by Commonwealth Federal.
My father had banked there.
I knew because I had spent months untangling his estate.
I took the key back.
“Call Commonwealth.”
“At three in the morning?”
“I own twelve percent of the bank.”
Anthony sighed.
“Of course you do.”
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
I almost ignored it.
Then I opened the message.
One photograph.
My blood went cold.
The image showed Grace walking into my house three weeks earlier carrying Lily.
Mia walked beside her.
Taken from across the street.
Below the photograph were six words.
THE GIRL SHOULD HAVE STAYED QUIET.
Anthony read it over my shoulder.
His expression changed.
“We’re locking the house down.”
I stared at the message.
Then another arrived.
This time it was a photograph of Mia cleaning my study.
Taken tonight.
From inside the room.
Someone had been watching her before I came home.
My gaze moved toward the open bookcase.
Whoever had sent the photograph had been standing behind that wall.
Listening.
Watching.
May you like
Waiting.
And Mia had heard him.
