Chapter 13 - The Bullet
Derek survived.
The bullet entered high in his shoulder and missed anything immediately fatal.
At the hospital, surgeons operated for two hours.
I sat beside Nolan without speaking.
At dawn, Marcus arrived.
“The shooter is dead.”
I looked up.
“Who?”
“Former Meridian security contractor.”
“Richard?”
“We can’t prove it yet.”
“Then prove it.”
Marcus nodded.
Nolan watched me.
“You don’t owe Derek anything because he took a bullet.”
“I know.”
“Good.”
“I’m still allowed to care whether he lives.”
“Yes.”
I looked at him.
“Stop preparing arguments I’m not making.”
A tired smile touched his face.
“Family tradition.”
The surgeon eventually appeared.
Derek would recover.
Police stationed officers outside his room.
I entered alone.
He looked pale.
Weak.
Human.
Nothing like the confident man at the airport.
His eyes opened.
“Emily.”
“You’re alive.”
“Apparently.”
“Don’t joke.”
“Sorry.”
Silence.
Then he whispered.
“Did he get away?”
“The shooter died.”
“My father?”
“Missing.”
His jaw tightened.
“He’ll go after Northstar.”
“He can try.”
“Emily.”
“I’m done being scared of him.”
“That doesn’t mean he isn’t dangerous.”
“I know.”
He studied me.
“Wedding’s off.”
I almost laughed.
“Yes, Derek.”
“The wedding is definitely off.”
He closed his eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
“Those words are too small.”
“I know.”
“Then stop using them.”
He nodded.
I turned to leave.
“Emily?”
I stopped.
“There’s something you don’t know.”
I faced him.
“What now?”
“Clara has a daughter.”
That was not what I expected.
“What?”
“Eight years old.”
“Clara never told me.”
“No one knows.”
“Why are you telling me?”
“Richard does.”
My stomach tightened.
“He’s been using the child to control her.”
“Where is she?”
“Boarding school in Wisconsin.”
“What’s her name?”
“Sophie.”
The name felt strangely familiar.
Then I remembered Clara showing me photographs years ago.
Her “niece.”
A smiling little girl with braids.
“She told me Sophie was her sister’s daughter.”
“She lied.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course she did.
“Who is the father?”
Derek looked away.
“Richard.”
The room seemed to freeze.
“Your father?”
“Yes.”
My horror deepened.
“How?”
“Clara worked for him before she worked for you.”
“How old was she?”
“Twenty-one.”
“And he—”
“He had an affair with her.”
I sat slowly.
“Then years later he sent her to spy on me.”
“Yes.”
“And you fell in love with her.”
“Yes.”
The dysfunction of the Hale family was almost impossible to process.
“Does Laura know?”
“No.”
“What is Richard threatening?”
“To take Sophie.”
“Legally?”
“He’s on the birth certificate under another name.”
“Why?”
“Control.”
Always control.
I left the room and found Nolan.
“We need to get Clara’s daughter.”
He stared at me.
“What daughter?”
Ten minutes later, his team was moving.
The boarding school reported Sophie had been checked out that morning.
By an authorized guardian.
Clara Morgan.
But Clara was in Chicago.
Nolan called her.
No answer.
Then Marcus found surveillance footage.
A man had taken Sophie.
Richard Hale.
My stomach dropped.
“He has her.”
Nolan nodded.
A message arrived on my phone.
From Richard.
He must have obtained the number elsewhere.
One photograph.
Sophie sitting in the back of a car.
Terrified but apparently unharmed.
Text beneath it.
NORTHSTAR FOR THE CHILD.
NO POLICE.
MIDNIGHT.
Then a second message.
May you like
BRING CLARA.
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