Chapter 6 - The Music Box

Detective Sarah Cole opened her apartment door with a pistol in her hand.

“Thomas?”

He stared at the gun.

“Warm welcome.”

“You called twice, hung up once, then showed up with your mother looking like you've been chased across the city.”

“We have.”

Sarah lowered the weapon.

“Get inside.”

She was forty, sharp-eyed, and had known Thomas since college.

More importantly, she had never taken money from Delacourt Holdings.

Thomas placed the backpack on her kitchen table.

For the next fifteen minutes, he told her everything.

Émilie.

The red device.

Pierre.

Gabriel.

Sophie.

The kidnapping video.

Sarah listened without interrupting.

When Thomas finished, she picked up Sophie's passport.

“You're sure she's yours?”

“Look at her.”

Sarah raised an eyebrow.

“That is not DNA.”

“I know.”

Madeleine sat rigidly near the window.

Sarah looked at her.

“Mrs. Delacourt, what aren't you telling him?”

Thomas turned.

Madeleine stiffened.

“What?”

Sarah said, “People hiding one secret for twelve years usually have more than one.”

Madeleine stared at her hands.

Thomas felt his patience snap.

“Mom?”

“I didn't know about Sophie.”

“That's not what she asked.”

Madeleine stood.

“I knew where Pierre mailed the package.”

Thomas pushed back his chair.

“You said you didn't.”

“I said he mailed it to Émilie.”

“Where?”

Madeleine took a breath.

“Vermont.”

Thomas froze.

“What?”

“A town called Bellweather.”

Sarah immediately opened her laptop.

Madeleine continued.

“Pierre went there several times after Émilie disappeared.”

Thomas stared at his mother.

“You knew where she was?”

“No. I knew where Pierre went.”

“You never followed him?”

“He told me if I did, I could get someone killed.”

“That was enough?”

“You didn't know your father when he was afraid.”

Madeleine's eyes filled.

“I did.”

The room went quiet.

Sarah searched Bellweather.

Small town.

Population under eight thousand.

Property records.

Thomas moved beside her.

“Search Serrat.”

Nothing.

“Search Pierre.”

Sarah typed.

A property appeared under an LLC.

Red Creek Holdings.

Purchased eleven years earlier.

A cabin outside Bellweather.

Thomas pointed.

“That.”

Sarah zoomed in.

“Owner transferred three years ago.”

“To whom?”

She clicked.

Sophie Bell.

Thomas's stomach tightened.

“Bell?”

Sarah nodded.

“Could be an alias.”

Madeleine whispered, “The music box.”

Thomas remembered.

When he was nine, Pierre had given him a handmade wooden music box.

It played an old French lullaby.

Thomas had hated it by age fourteen.

Pierre never let Madeleine throw it away.

After Pierre died, Thomas packed it with other childhood things in a storage room at the family house.

Thomas stood.

“We go back.”

Sarah shook her head.

“Gabriel is expecting that.”

“The music box is there.”

“Which means his people may be there too.”

Thomas grabbed his keys.

Sarah sighed.

“Fine.”

She opened a drawer and took out another magazine for her pistol.

“But we do it my way.”

Twenty-five minutes later, they parked two blocks from Madeleine's house.

No black SUV.

No visible movement.

Sarah entered first.

The front door had been forced open.

The study was destroyed.

Drawers emptied.

Books scattered.

Furniture overturned.

Thomas headed toward the storage room.

The door was already open.

Boxes everywhere.

He searched frantically.

“Music box.”

Madeleine pointed.

“There.”

A small wooden box sat untouched on the top shelf.

Thomas pulled it down.

Sarah examined it.

“No wires.”

Thomas opened the lid.

The old melody played.

Nothing else.

Then Thomas noticed Sophie's photograph again.

She has Thomas's stubbornness.

Ask Sophie about the music box.

He turned the music box upside down.

Scratched beneath it were four words.

PLAY IT TO THE END.

Thomas set it down.

The tune continued.

Thirty seconds.

Forty.

Fifty.

Then the music stopped.

A hidden panel clicked open.

Inside was a tiny memory card.

Thomas reached for it.

His phone rang.

Émilie.

He answered instantly.

“Émilie?”

She was crying.

“Thomas, listen carefully.”

“Where are you?”

“Gabriel moved us.”

“Where?”

“I don't know.”

“I'm coming.”

“No.”

“I'm not losing you again.”

“You don't understand.”

A male voice shouted in the background.

Émilie whispered quickly.

“Sophie escaped.”

Thomas froze.

“What?”

“She got out.”

“Where is she?”

“I don't know.”

A crash sounded.

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Then Émilie screamed into the phone.

“Thomas, Gabriel knows she's going to find you.”