Chapter 7 - The Night Clara Disappeared
Emergency lights came on.
Guests screamed.
Roman did not.
He became still.
That terrifying stillness Rebecca had learned meant every emotion had compressed into action.
“Marcus.”
“West corridor cameras are down.”
“Building exits?”
“Locking now.”
“Adrian?”
“Not located.”
“Daniel?”
Rebecca pointed.
“He was there.”
The place where Daniel stood was empty.
Roman cursed.
Rebecca picked up Clara’s cane.
The rubber tip had been repaired.
Clara would not willingly leave it.
“Roman.”
He looked.
“She didn’t walk out.”
“I know.”
Marcus approached.
“Service elevator stopped in basement level two.”
Roman moved.
Rebecca followed.
“No.”
She ignored him.
“Rebecca.”
“You can argue while walking.”
They descended through emergency stairs with six security men and two federal agents attending the gala undercover.
Basement level two contained loading docks.
Empty catering corridors.
Mechanical rooms.
They found one guard unconscious.
Alive.
No Clara.
No Adrian.
No Daniel.
A loading door stood open.
Snow blew inside.
Tire tracks disappeared toward the street.
Roman punched the concrete wall.
Rebecca grabbed his wrist before he could strike again.
“Stop.”
He looked at her.
“You’re bleeding.”
His knuckles had split.
“I don’t care.”
“I do.”
The words came out before she could control them.
Roman froze.
So did she.
Marcus looked away.
Rebecca released him.
“We need to think.”
“My mother was taken because of me.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“She was taken because Adrian is losing.”
“That is because of me.”
“Roman, not everything becomes your fault just because you put your name on it.”
He stared.
Rebecca held up Clara’s cane.
“She leaves clues.”
“What?”
“She did it at the house.”
Braille.
Saint Gabriel.
Clara knew Rebecca would look.
They searched the cane.
Nothing.
Then Rebecca felt something beneath the repaired rubber tip.
Paper.
Rolled tightly.
Marcus cut the tip open.
Inside was a thin strip.
Rebecca unfolded it.
Three raised Braille letters.
M-W-D.
Roman frowned.
“Meaning?”
Clara had recently been practicing abbreviations.
Rebecca understood.
“Mother would disapprove.”
Marcus blinked.
“What?”
Rebecca flipped the paper.
There was ink on the other side.
A.
“Adrian.”
Roman took it.
Clara had managed to hide a message after being seized.
Alive.
Thinking.
Fighting.
Roman exhaled.
The kidnappers contacted them thirty-eight minutes later.
Daniel called Roman directly.
“Uncle wants the ledger.”
Roman’s face became ice.
“You have my mother?”
“She’s fine.”
“Let me hear her.”
A pause.
Then Clara’s voice.
“Roman?”
“Mother.”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
In the background Rebecca heard something.
Train horn.
Then water.
Daniel returned.
“Ledger for Clara.”
Roman asked, “Where?”
“Instructions later.”
The call ended.
Rebecca looked at Marcus.
“Train horn. Water.”
Chicago had dozens of places matching both.
Then Clara’s phrase mattered.
Mother would disapprove.
MWD.
Maybe not initials.
Rebecca repeated it.
“Mother would disapprove.”
Roman looked at her.
“That’s not how my mother talks.”
Exactly.
Clara was telling them the phrase itself was false.
Not mother.
Whose mother?
Rebecca thought of Evelyn.
Her mother would disapprove of something.
What?
Then she remembered childhood.
Evelyn hated one place in Chicago.
The river warehouses.
Whenever news mentioned them, she changed channels.
She once told Rebecca never to go near old industrial docks.
“Marianne,” Rebecca whispered.
Roman frowned.
“What?”
“MWD.”
Marianne Would Disapprove.
Marianne Vale.
Adrian’s wife.
Clara was pointing to Marianne.
The recording found at St. Gabriel’s said Marianne copied information about Adrian’s warehouses.
One warehouse remained from that era.
Marianne Cold Storage.
Closed sixteen years earlier after her death.
Roman knew it.
South branch of the river.
Rail tracks.
Water.
They moved.
Federal agents wanted Roman to stay behind.
He refused.
Rebecca was ordered to stay.
She refused more politely.
Roman confronted her beside an SUV.
“No.”
“Your mother is there.”
“And you are not.”
“She may need someone she trusts to guide her if they’ve taken her cane.”
“She has me.”
“You’re going to be busy trying not to kill your relatives.”
His jaw tightened.
“That is exactly why you should stay.”
Rebecca stepped closer.
“You keep telling Clara not to let blindness stop her from living.”
“I tell her the opposite.”
“Exactly. And she ignores you.”
“Rebecca.”
“She left me a clue.”
Roman looked away.
“She expects me.”
“You could die.”
“So could you.”
“That’s different.”
“No.”
Roman’s eyes returned to hers.
Snow collected on his coat.
For several seconds neither spoke.
Then he whispered, “You are the most infuriating person I have ever met.”
Rebecca’s pulse changed.
“Your mother will be offended.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
He lifted a hand.
Stopped before touching her.
Rebecca closed the distance herself.
His fingers settled against her cheek.
“You make it very difficult to send you away.”
“Stop trying.”
Roman kissed her.
No elegance.
No careful decision.
Weeks of fear, arguments, midnight conversations and almost-moments collapsed into one.
Rebecca grabbed his coat.
Roman’s other hand moved to her waist.
The world became snow and warmth and the distant sound of men pretending not to notice their boss kissing the woman he had spent weeks arguing with.
Then Roman pulled back.
Forehead against hers.
“That was terrible timing.”
“Your family specializes in that.”
He almost smiled.
Then they got into the SUV.
Marianne Cold Storage stood beside the river like a dead animal.
Broken windows.
Rusting metal.
Old rail lines disappearing beneath snow.
Federal agents surrounded the property discreetly.
Roman received another call.
Daniel.
“Ledger.”
“I have it.”
“Come inside alone.”
“No.”
“Then Clara dies.”
Roman’s face changed.
Rebecca grabbed his sleeve.
Daniel continued.
“Five minutes.”
The line ended.
Helen Walsh refused to let Roman enter alone.
Roman said he would anyway.
Marcus produced a tracking transmitter and tiny microphone.
Rebecca asked, “Can we see inside?”
“No cameras,” Marcus said. “Old building.”
Rebecca looked at blueprints.
Her eyes caught something.
A service tunnel.
Cold-storage facilities used underground utility corridors.
Marianne’s recording had mentioned another place no Costa would look.
Rebecca pointed.
“This.”
Roman frowned.
“What?”
“There’s an old maintenance entrance behind the loading dock.”
Marcus looked.
“Collapsed according to records.”
“Records say lots of things in this family.”
They split.
Roman entered through the front carrying a copy of the ledger.
The real one was already with federal prosecutors.
Marcus and agents moved toward the service tunnel.
Rebecca was supposed to remain in the command vehicle.
She lasted four minutes.
Then Clara’s voice came through Roman’s microphone.
“You took your time.”
Alive.
Rebecca nearly cried.
Adrian spoke.
“Where is the ledger?”
“Where is Daniel?”
“Handling business.”
Roman’s voice became cold.
“You drugged my mother.”
“I protected this family.”
“You killed my father.”
Silence.
Rebecca stared at the audio receiver.
Adrian laughed softly.
“Antonio was going to destroy everything.”
“Everything?”
“Generations of work.”
“He wanted you out.”
“He wanted us weak.”
“You were trafficking poison through our docks.”
“We were making money.”
Roman’s breathing changed.
Rebecca understood.
A confession.
Helen was recording.
Adrian continued.
“Your father never had the stomach required to lead.”
“And Marianne?”
Silence.
Roman’s voice lowered.
“What did you do to your wife?”
Rebecca covered her mouth.
Adrian answered.
“Marianne made her choice.”
Another death.
The house fire.
Not accident.
Roman asked, “Evelyn?”
“She was smart enough to leave.”
Rebecca closed her eyes.
At least her mother had escaped.
Then Daniel’s voice appeared unexpectedly.
“Enough.”
Gunfire erupted.
The microphone filled with static.
Rebecca stood.
“Roman.”
Helen grabbed her arm.
“Stay here.”
“No.”
Agents moved.
The service-tunnel team breached.
Rebecca heard shouting.
Then nothing.
She ran.
Helen cursed and followed.
Inside, the warehouse was dark and enormous.
Emergency lights flashed.
Rebecca heard Roman shouting somewhere above.
Then a cane tapped.
No.
Not a cane.
Metal against pipe.
Three taps.
Pause.
Three taps.
Clara.
Rebecca followed the sound down a side corridor.
“Clara?”
“Rebecca?”
Relief broke through.
She found Clara locked inside a small office.
No cane.
Hands tied in front.
Rebecca forced the damaged door open with help from an agent.
Clara stood.
“Roman?”
“Alive when I heard him.”
“Adrian?”
“Talking too much.”
“Typical.”
Rebecca almost laughed.
She took Clara’s arm.
“Step down.”
They moved through darkness.
Exactly like the first night at Fifth and Alder.
Rebecca describing obstacles.
Clara trusting her.
Then a man appeared at the end of the corridor.
Daniel.
Gun in hand.
Rebecca stopped.
Clara felt it.
“What?”
Daniel raised the weapon.
“Should have stayed a waitress.”
Rebecca moved in front of Clara.
Daniel laughed.
“You think that helps?”
Clara whispered, “Rebecca.”
“It’s okay.”
“No.”
Clara released her arm.
Then swung a metal pipe she had picked up blindly from the wall.
It struck Daniel’s wrist.
The gun hit the floor.
Rebecca lunged.
An agent behind them tackled Daniel before he recovered.
Clara lifted her chin.
“I dislike being underestimated.”
Rebecca stared.
Then laughed so hard she nearly cried.
Upstairs, Adrian attempted to escape.
Roman stopped him near the loading dock.
Rebecca arrived with Clara as federal agents surrounded both men.
Adrian looked at Clara.
Something like shame crossed his face.
“You should have stayed out of this.”
Clara’s expression became harder than Rebecca had ever seen.
“You blinded me.”
Adrian said nothing.
“You murdered my husband.”
Silence.
“Your wife.”
Adrian looked away.
Clara stepped closer using Rebecca’s arm.
“You spent seventeen years thinking taking my sight made me unable to see you.”
Her voice did not shake.
“You were wrong.”
Federal agents handcuffed him.
Roman looked at his mother.
Then at Rebecca.
Blood marked his lip.
His suit was torn.
He was alive.
Rebecca crossed the distance.
May you like
He pulled her into his arms.
For once, she did not argue.
