Chapter 4 - What Maria Kept In The Locked Drawer
My breath seized in my throat.
"What are you talking about?" I whispered, my fingers tightening on the grip of my gun.
"Sofia knew Claire?"
Maria nodded rapidly, wiping tears from her cheeks with the back of her wrist.
"Claire isn't a socialite from New York, Alex," Maria said, her voice shaking with urgency.
"Her real name is Claire Vane. She’s Sofia’s half-sister."
The room spun for half a second.
Sofia had never mentioned a sister.
Not once in ten years of marriage.
"Sofia’s father had a second family in Chicago," Maria explained quickly, keeping her voice low.
"When he died, he left everything to Sofia and completely cut Claire’s mother out of the will."
"Claire has spent six years tracking down every asset your wife owned."
"Before Sofia passed, she warned me that Claire would try to get close to you."
"She told me: 'If a woman named Claire ever enters Alex’s life, open the green lockbox under the floorboards in Lily’s closet.'"
A floorboard creaked loudly right above our heads.
Footsteps.
Heavy, deliberate, and moving toward the nursery.
Kane was outside the girls’ room.
"We don't have time for the box," I said through clenched teeth.
"Daniel, take the back stairs. Cover the west corridor."
"I’m taking the front landing."
Daniel nodded once, drawing his weapon, his expression turning to stone.
He slipped out through the laundry room side door like a wraith.
I turned to Maria.
"Stay here. Lock this door from the inside until I call your name."
"Be careful, Alex," Maria whispered, her hands shaking as she touched my shoulder. "Kane is a killer. He worked for Claire’s family for ten years."
I moved into the lower hallway.
The plush carpet absorbed every trace of my footsteps.
The house was dead silent, save for the faint hum of the central heating.
I reached the bottom of the grand curved staircase.
Up on the second-floor landing, I saw the hem of a dark coat.
Marcus Kane was standing outside the playroom door.
He had his hand on the brass knob.
He jiggled it once.
The door didn't budge against Emma’s makeshift barricade.
"Little girls," Kane’s gravelly voice echoed softly down the corridor.
"Open the door. The doctor is here to check your temperature."
From inside the room, I heard Lily let out a terrified whimper.
"Go away!" Emma screamed back, her high-pitched voice cracking with raw defiance.
"My daddy will kill you! Leave us alone!"
Kane let out a cold, dismissive sigh.
He stepped back half a pace and raised his right boot.
He was going to kick the mahogany door off its hinges.
I took the stairs three at a time, moving with absolute silence.
At the top of the landing, Kane raised his foot to strike.
I didn't yell.
I didn't issue a warning.
I leveled my Sig Sauer directly at the back of his right knee and squeezed the trigger.
The suppressed gunshot sounded like a heavy cough in the quiet hall.
Thwump.
The 9mm hollow point shattered Kane’s kneecap into dust.
Kane collapsed with a muffled howl of agony, dropping his weapon onto the runner rug.
Before he could reach for it with his left hand, I crossed the distance and brought the heavy steel slide of my pistol crashing down across his jaw.
Bone cracked.
Kane rolled onto his back, blood pouring from his shattered mouth, his eyes rolling back in shock.
I planted my tactical boot directly on his throat, bearing down with all my weight.
"Make one sound," I whispered, pressing the warm barrel of my gun between his eyes, "and I’ll paint this ceiling with your brains."
Kane choked on his own blood, his hands clawing at my pant leg.
The playroom door clicked.
Emma slowly cracked it open, peeking through the narrow gap.
Her huge brown eyes went wide when she saw me standing over the bleeding man.
"Daddy?" she cried out, her voice breaking into a sob.
"Emma, close that door," I commanded softly, never taking my eyes off Kane’s face.
"Lock it. Do not open it until Daniel comes for you. Understand?"
"Yes, Daddy," she whispered, and slammed the door shut, sliding the brass bolt into place.
Down the hall, the master bedroom door flew open.
Claire rushed out, holding a silver revolver in her trembling right hand.
Dr. Vance stood right behind her, his face pale as chalk.
When Claire saw me standing over Kane with a suppressed pistol, the color drained completely from her lips.
"Alex...?" she stammered, lowering the gun by an inch. "You’re in Toronto... how..."
"I was never in Toronto, Claire," I said, stepping off Kane’s throat and walking slowly toward her.
Each step I took was measured, heavy, and deliberate.
"I saw the cameras."
"I heard the phone call."
"I know who your father was."
Claire’s eyes twitched with pure, cornered panic.
Suddenly, her phone began to ring loudly from the pocket of her silk robe.
The screen glowed through the fabric.
She didn't move.
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"Answer it," I said, leveling my gun straight at her forehead.
"Put it on speaker."
