Chapter 6 - The Boy In The Clock Tower
“Daddy?” I looked from the drawing to Adrian.
Adrian’s breathing hitched. He stared at the messy red crayon letters.
“He thinks I’m his father,” Adrian whispered. “My father must have told him stories about me to keep my memory alive. Or…” He stopped, a terrible realization washing over his face.
“Or what?” I asked.
“Or Vivian told him I was his father to manipulate him,” Adrian said, his voice hardening. “If the boy believes I abandoned him, he’ll be easier to control. She’s using his trauma.”
We didn't waste another second. We sprinted back to the SUV.
The abandoned South Side railyard was a massive, rusting graveyard of old train cars and crumbling brick buildings. Looming over the center was the skeletal frame of the old clock tower.
It was almost midnight. The rain had started, a cold Chicago drizzle that slicked the pavement.
Adrian parked a block away, cutting the headlights.
“Stay in the car, Sophie,” he ordered, pulling a spare magazine from the glovebox.
“No,” I said firmly. “If Evie is in there, she’s fragile. She needs someone who knows how to move a stroke patient. If you pull her the wrong way, you could kill her. And Leo knows me.”
Adrian looked at me, rain hitting the windshield. “It’s not safe.”
“I didn't take this job to be safe. I took it to help Evie.”
He nodded once. We slipped out into the rain.
We approached the tower through the shadows of rusted shipping containers. Two men in dark coats were standing guard at the metal door at the base of the tower. They were smoking, complaining about the rain.
Adrian moved like a ghost. He slipped behind the first guard, striking the back of his neck with the grip of his gun. The man folded silently. Before the second guard could react, Adrian swept his legs out from under him and pinned him to the mud.
“Who’s upstairs?” Adrian hissed.
“Just… just Marcus and the old lady!” the guard choked out. “And the kid!”
“Where’s Vivian?”
“She’s at the airport! Waiting for Marcus to bring the boy!”
Adrian knocked the man out and dragged them both behind a container.
We slipped inside the tower. The air smelled of mildew and rat droppings. A rusted iron staircase spiraled upward into the darkness.
We climbed quietly. On the fourth landing, a faint yellow light spilled from an open doorway.
I peered around the corner.
Inside a dusty, circular room, Evie was tied to a wooden chair. Her head slumped forward, her breathing shallow.
In the corner, sitting on a dirty mattress, was Leo. He was hugging his knees, shivering.
Standing over Evie was Marcus, the scarred man from the photograph. He was holding a syringe.
“Wake up, old woman,” Marcus growled, slapping Evie’s cheek. “You’re going to sign the transfer papers before I put you to sleep for good.”
Adrian stepped into the doorway, raising his gun.
“Drop the syringe, Marcus.”
Marcus spun around, dropping the needle in surprise. But he didn't surrender. Instead, he grinned, pulling a heavy silver pocket watch from his coat.
“You’re too late, Adrian,” Marcus sneered. “You think Vivian is the mastermind? She’s just a pawn. Look at the watch.”
He tossed it onto the floor.
It slid to Adrian’s boots.
It was Adrian’s father’s watch.
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“Your father isn't dead,” Marcus laughed. “He’s the one who ordered the hit on Evie. Because Evie stole Leo from him.”
TITLE: The Housekeeper’s Secret
