Chapter 2 - The House Behind the Iron Gates
Adrian Russo's home was not a home.
It was a fortress disguised as a mansion.
The gates opened before the convoy reached them.
Security cameras tracked every vehicle.
Men in dark suits stood beneath covered walkways, their hands tucked near their jackets.
When I stepped out of the SUV, the entire courtyard seemed to go silent.
They knew who I was.
That frightened me more than the guns.
Adrian walked beside me.
No one spoke.
Inside, everything was polished stone and dark wood.
A staircase curved toward the second floor.
A chandelier hung over the foyer.
But the beauty did nothing to make me feel safer.
Adrian noticed.
“You can leave after we understand what's happening.”
“When?”
“As soon as I know who is trying to kill you.”
“That could take days.”
“Yes.”
I stopped.
“You're asking me to stay in a mafia house for days?”
He looked at me.
“I’m asking you to survive for days.”
I had no answer.
He led me into a private office.
A woman in a gray suit was waiting.
“This is Sofia Russo.”
She extended a hand.
“My sister.”
Sofia looked at me carefully.
“So you're Emma.”
“Yes.”
“You saved his life.”
“I treated a knife wound.”
Sofia glanced at Adrian.
“He disagrees.”
Adrian sat down.
“Sofia runs everything while I bleed.”
“I run everything because you refuse to answer your phone.”
“You have a point.”
She looked at me.
“We need to discuss Mercy General.”
I folded my arms.
“Please do.”
Sofia placed a tablet on the desk.
Images appeared.
Security footage.
A man entering the hospital.
Another leaving.
A third standing near the nurses’ station.
Then my own image.
“They were looking for you before Adrian arrived at Mercy General.”
I stared.
“Why?”
“We don't know.”
Sofia changed the image.
A photograph appeared.
A silver key.
“It was found in Adrian's office.”
I frowned.
“What does that have to do with me?”
Sofia zoomed in.
There was an engraving.
E.S.
My initials.
I felt a chill.
“I've never seen that.”
Adrian stood.
“Neither have I.”
Sofia tapped the screen.
“The key was inside a sealed file that disappeared from police evidence seventeen years ago.”
“Police evidence?”
Sofia looked at me.
“Your father's murder case.”
The room went silent.
My father's name had been buried for years.
Daniel Shaw.
He had been a mechanic.
At least that was what my mother had told me.
He died when I was eight.
A robbery gone wrong.
That's what the newspaper said.
I remembered almost nothing except blood on the garage floor and my mother's hand covering my eyes.
“My father?”
Adrian nodded.
“We think he knew someone important.”
“Who?”
“We don't know yet.”
I looked at the key.
“Why would my initials be on it?”
“That's what we need to find out.”
I walked to the window.
Outside, men patrolled the grounds.
“I want to call my mother.”
Adrian nodded.
“You can.”
I dialed her number.
No answer.
I called again.
Still nothing.
A third time.
Voicemail.
I listened.
My mother's voice sounded normal.
“Emma, honey, I’m at the market. I’ll call you later.”
I looked at the clock.
She had never missed a call from me.
“Something is wrong.”
Adrian immediately turned to Sofia.
“Find her.”
Sofia was already dialing.
Five minutes later, she returned.
“Her car is at home.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
“The car is parked in the garage. Front door locked. No sign of entry.”
Adrian’s expression hardened.
“She's gone.”
I rushed toward the door.
He caught my arm.
“Where are you going?”
“To find her.”
“You're exactly who they expect to move.”
“That's my mother.”
“I know.”
“Then help me.”
He looked at me for a long moment.
“That's what I'm doing.”
We drove to my mother's house.
No one was there.
The kitchen was clean.
The purse was on the counter.
Her shoes were beside the door.
The only thing missing was her phone.
I found a cup of coffee half full.
It was still cold.
“Mom wouldn't leave like this.”
Adrian examined the living room.
“What do you see?”
“What?”
“Don't think like her daughter. Think like someone hiding.”
I frowned.
The room looked ordinary.
Photographs.
A sofa.
Bookshelves.
A television.
Then I remembered something.
“My father hated clocks.”
Adrian looked at the wall.
There were three clocks.
“Those weren't here before.”
We removed the largest.
Behind it was a shallow compartment.
Inside was a notebook.
My mother's handwriting.
Adrian opened it.
The first page had only three words.
WHEN EMMA REMEMBERS.
My heart hammered.
“What does that mean?”
He turned the page.
There was a date.
The date of my father's death.
Below it:
THE BOY IN THE RED COAT.
I stared.
“I don't remember.”
“You were eight.”
“I remember a garage.”
“Anything else?”
“A red light.”
“A car?”
I shook my head.
Then suddenly a memory surfaced.
A boy.
Standing at the end of the street.
Wearing a red coat.
He was holding something.
A metal box.
I grabbed Adrian's arm.
“I remember him.”
“What did he look like?”
“I don't know.”
“Age?”
“Maybe ten.”
Adrian's phone rang.
Marco.
“Boss, we found something.”
“What?”
“A witness.”
“Where?”
“Mercy General.”
Adrian frowned.
“Who?”
“A retired janitor. He says he saw Daniel Shaw the night he died.”
We returned to the hospital.
The janitor's name was Walter Miles.
He was eighty-two.
He sat in a wheelchair near a private room.
When he saw me, he immediately began crying.
“You look just like him.”
“My father?”
Walter nodded.
“Your father saved me.”
“From what?”
“From men with guns.”
Adrian moved closer.
“What happened that night?”
Walter swallowed.
“Daniel was trying to get a child out.”
My blood went cold.
“What child?”
Walter looked at Adrian.
Then back at me.
“Another one.”
“Another what?”
“Another Shaw.”
I stared at him.
“I was an only child.”
Walter shook his head.
“No.”
He looked terrified.
“Your mother had another baby.”
Silence filled the room.
Adrian's expression changed.
“When?”
“Two days before Daniel died.”
I felt dizzy.
“Where is that child?”
Walter's hands shook.
“Taken.”
“By whom?”
He looked toward the door.
Before answering, the window shattered.
A bullet struck the wall beside his head.
Adrian pulled me to the floor.
Marco shouted.
Security flooded the room.
Walter collapsed.
I crawled toward him.
He grabbed my wrist.
“The red coat.”
Then he stopped breathing.
I screamed.
Adrian pulled me away.
Outside, tires screeched.
Marco came running in.
“They're gone.”
Adrian looked at me.
“The child.”
I nodded.
“My mother knew.”
He looked at the blood on the floor.
“Now we know why they're hunting you.”
“Because of my sister?”
“Maybe.”
I stared at him.
“What if she's alive?”
Adrian didn't answer immediately.
May you like
Then he said:
“We're going to find her.”
