Chapter 4 - Bring Me the Woman
For six minutes, Roman Vale became the man Chicago whispered about.
Claire had seen angry men before.
Her father had been one.
Her executive chef was another.
But Roman’s anger was different.
It was silent.
Every person in the mansion could feel it.
“Seal every gate.”
Mason was already speaking into his radio.
“Team Three, north wall. Team Four, alley. Nobody moves without visual confirmation.”
Roman picked up the photograph left on Lucas’s bed.
His hands did not shake.
Claire’s did.
“How did someone get him out?”
“Service stairs,” Mason said. “Camera system was looped.”
“Inside help.”
“Has to be.”
Noah started crying.
Claire turned.
The three remaining boys were standing together.
Not screaming.
Not panicking.
Worse.
They were trying not to.
Because somewhere in seven years of life they had learned that fear was something adults could use against them.
Claire went to them.
“Look at me.”
Noah did.
“So do Eli and Theo.”
They looked.
“Your dad is going to find Lucas.”
Theo’s lip trembled.
“How do you know?”
Claire swallowed.
Because failing was not an option.
“Because Lucas is smart. And because your father looks like he’s about to personally overturn Chicago.”
Eli sniffed.
“That does sound like Dad.”
Roman looked over.
For one second, Claire saw gratitude.
Then Mason’s phone rang.
“Trent.”
His face changed.
He handed the phone to Roman.
“Blocked number.”
Roman answered.
“Speak.”
A distorted voice.
“Bring me the woman.”
Claire froze.
Roman’s eyes moved to her.
“What woman?”
“The one pretending to be their mother.”
Roman’s entire body went still.
Claire’s heart started pounding.
“Lucas is unharmed,” the voice continued. “For now.”
“What do you want?”
“Claire Bennett.”
Roman said nothing.
The caller laughed.
“You hear that, Ms. Bennett?”
Claire stepped closer.
“Put Lucas on.”
Roman grabbed her wrist.
She pulled free.
“Put him on.”
Silence.
Then a small voice.
“Claire?”
She shut her eyes.
“I’m here, sweetheart.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No. You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for.”
“They said Dad can’t find me.”
Roman looked like someone had cut him open.
Claire forced herself to sound calm.
“Remember the tea shop?”
“Yes.”
“What did I tell everybody to do?”
Lucas sniffed.
“Smile like ice cream.”
“That’s right. So I need you to be brave like that again.”
A man took the phone.
“Enough.”
Claire’s voice hardened.
“If you hurt him—”
“Midnight. Old Vale boathouse. She comes alone.”
The call ended.
Roman immediately looked at Mason.
“Trace?”
“Ping bounced across six towers.”
“The boathouse is a trap.”
“Obviously.”
Claire looked at him.
“I’m going.”
“No.”
“He asked for me.”
“He asked for bait.”
“That’s still me.”
Roman turned toward her.
“You don’t understand these people.”
“Then explain them on the way.”
“You aren’t going.”
“Your son is there because he talked to me.”
“He is there because someone betrayed this family.”
“And they want me.”
Roman came closer.
“No one takes you.”
Claire stared at him.
That sentence landed strangely.
Too personal.
Too certain.
She ignored it.
“Roman, if Lucas believes we refused to come—”
“We’re coming.”
He looked at Mason.
“But not their way.”
The next two hours moved like a military operation.
Claire was given a tracking device disguised as an earring.
A microphone sewn into her coat.
Roman hated all of it.
He hated the plan.
He hated that Claire insisted on being visible.
He hated, most of all, that the police could not simply be called.
“Why not?” she demanded.
Roman looked at her.
“Because Harrison owns half the people who would hear the call before units arrived.”
“That’s insane.”
“It’s Chicago.”
“That is not an explanation.”
“It’s the only one I have.”
At 11:38 p.m., Claire stepped from a sedan two hundred yards from the old Vale boathouse.
Snow had started falling.
The lake beyond the trees looked black.
Her mouth was dry.
Roman’s voice came quietly through the receiver in her ear.
“I’m sixty yards behind you.”
“You’re supposed to stay back.”
“You thought I would?”
“Not really.”
“Claire.”
“What?”
“If something goes wrong, run.”
She smiled nervously.
“Very inspiring.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
She approached the boathouse.
One light burned inside.
The door opened.
Burke stood there.
Charcoal coat.
Exactly as Lucas had drawn him.
Claire’s fear became anger.
“Where is he?”
Burke smiled.
“You really are direct.”
“The child.”
“Inside.”
Claire entered.
The building smelled of old wood and gasoline.
A single chair sat beneath a hanging bulb.
Lucas was tied to it.
His face was wet with tears.
Claire forgot every instruction.
She ran.
Burke grabbed her.
Roman’s voice exploded through the earpiece.
“NOW.”
Glass shattered.
Mason’s team came through two sides at once.
Burke shoved Claire away.
Gunfire cracked into the ceiling.
Claire hit the floor.
Roman appeared through the side door like something out of a nightmare.
Burke raised his weapon.
Roman was faster.
One shot.
Burke dropped it, clutching his shoulder.
Mason tackled him.
Claire crawled to Lucas.
“I’ve got you.”
She ripped at the tape around his wrists.
Roman reached them.
“Lucas.”
His son threw himself into his father’s arms.
Roman held him so tightly Claire thought neither would ever let go.
Then Burke started laughing.
Roman looked over.
Blood ran down Burke’s sleeve.
“You think this was about the boy?”
Roman stood.
“Careful.”
Burke smiled.
“Harrison was right about you.”
“Where is he?”
“Not here.”
“No.”
Roman stepped closer.
“Where is what Amelia copied?”
For the first time, Burke’s smile disappeared.
Claire noticed.
So did Mason.
Roman crouched.
“My wife died because she found something. Tell me what.”
Burke spat blood onto the floor.
“She didn’t die because of what she found.”
Roman grabbed his coat.
“Then why?”
Burke’s eyes moved toward Lucas.
The boy buried his face in Claire’s shoulder.
Burke whispered, “Because she was leaving you.”
Roman froze.
“That’s a lie.”
“She called Harrison that night because she wanted out.”
“Shut up.”
“She had four sons trapped in a house surrounded by men with guns. She was terrified of what they’d become.”
Roman hit him.
Once.
Mason caught Roman before there was a second blow.
“Boss.”
Burke laughed through blood.
“And you still don’t know the best part.”
Roman stared at him.
“What?”
Burke smiled at Lucas.
“The boy didn’t see me take Amelia.”
He looked directly at Roman.
“He saw the person who ordered me to.”
Lucas began shaking.
Claire crouched beside him.
“Lucas.”
His face had gone white.
“Who did you see?”
He looked at Roman.
Then at Claire.
His lips trembled.
“Aunt Celeste.”
Roman’s expression emptied.
Claire remembered the name.
Amelia’s younger sister.
The boys’ aunt.
Roman whispered, “Celeste was in Paris.”
Lucas shook his head.
“No.”
The boathouse went silent.
Then headlights swept across the windows.
Mason drew his weapon.
Three vehicles entered the clearing.
Roman moved between Claire and the door.
A woman stepped out of the center car.
Tall.
Elegant.
Dark hair.
She looked so much like the dead woman in the photograph that Claire’s breath caught.
Roman whispered one word.
“Celeste.”
The woman walked toward the boathouse with both hands visible.
Roman’s men surrounded her.
She stopped ten feet away.
Snow gathered in her hair.
“Before you shoot me,” she said, looking at Roman, “you should know Amelia knew she was going to die.”
Roman’s face went cold.
Celeste reached inside her coat.
Mason’s men raised their guns.
May you like
She slowly removed a blue envelope.
“And she left this for you.”
