Chapter 1 - THE MAID IN THE LIBRARYThe second intruder spun toward Maeve.
For one terrifying second, Vincent saw exactly what was about to happen.
The man raised his gun.
Maeve raised the fire poker.
She moved first.
She slammed the iron shaft into his wrist.
The gun flew across the marble floor.
The man cursed and lunged.
Maeve stepped backward, slipped, caught herself against the bookshelf, and swung the poker again.
It struck his ribs.
The man collapsed against the table.
Vincent reached the library doorway just as the first intruder struggled to stand.
Vincent fired once into the ceiling.
“Don't.”
Both men froze.
Maeve turned.
Her face was pale.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly.
Her hand still gripped the poker.
Vincent stared at her.
Then at the unconscious man.
Then at the second man clutching his ribs.
“What the hell happened?”
Maeve blinked.
“They were going upstairs.”
Vincent's jaw tightened.
“Why?”
She pointed toward the hall.
“Your nephew.”
Vincent looked toward the staircase.
“Where is Leo?”
“In his room.”
“Safe?”
“I think so.”
She sounded uncertain.
Vincent ran.
Leo's bedroom door was open.
The little boy sat on the bed.
Wide awake.
Silent.
His blue blanket was pulled to his chest.
Vincent rushed over.
“Leo.”
The boy looked at him.
No words.
No sound.
Vincent checked him quickly.
No injuries.
He exhaled.
Then he noticed something.
Leo wasn't looking at him.
He was looking past him.
Toward the doorway.
Maeve stood there.
The little boy's expression changed.
Not fear.
Something else.
Recognition.
Vincent frowned.
“Leo?”
The child slowly lifted one hand.
He pointed at Maeve.
She stopped.
Vincent turned.
“Why are you pointing at her?”
Leo pointed again.
Maeve looked confused.
“Maybe he wants water.”
Vincent shook his head.
Leo had not pointed at anyone in six months.
Not once.
The boy climbed from the bed.
Vincent reached for him.
Leo moved around his uncle.
Then walked directly toward Maeve.
Maeve crouched.
“Hi.”
Leo stared at her.
She held out the stuffed dog he kept beside his pillow.
He ignored it.
Instead, he touched the sleeve of her uniform.
Then he looked at Vincent.
And for one impossible second, Vincent thought he might speak.
Nothing came.
Leo simply took Maeve's hand.
Vincent stared.
The boy had not willingly held another adult's hand since Sarah died.
Not once.
Something cold moved down Vincent's spine.
“Who are you?”
Maeve looked at him.
“Maeve Sullivan.”
“No.”
His voice became quiet.
“Who are you really?”
She looked toward Leo.
Then back at Vincent.
“I told you when I applied.”
“Your application says you have no references.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because the people who could give them are dead.”
The answer silenced him.
Before Vincent could ask more, Daniel, his head of security, rushed into the room.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“The second guard at the east gate isn't answering.”
Vincent's eyes hardened.
“How many?”
“Three men outside.”
“Anyone else?”
Daniel swallowed.
“One of them mentioned the boy.”
Vincent looked at Leo.
Then Maeve.
The housekeeper who had taken down an armed intruder.
The child who had suddenly decided to trust her.
And Brenda Higgins, who had spent three days telling Vincent Maeve was a thief.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
An hour later, the intruders were tied in the basement.
One was conscious.
One was not.
Vincent stood in front of the awake man.
“Who sent you?”
The man laughed.
“Go to hell.”
Vincent pulled out a chair.
He sat.
“I don't enjoy this.”
The man smiled.
“Everyone says that before they start.”
Vincent leaned forward.
“You came into my house.”
“I came for the boy.”
“Why?”
“No idea.”
“Then you're useless.”
The man's smile disappeared.
Vincent stood.
“Wait.”
The man's expression changed.
“Your security chief.”
Vincent stopped.
“What?”
The intruder nodded toward the ceiling.
“Ask him.”
Vincent's eyes narrowed.
Before he could say anything else, Daniel appeared at the basement entrance.
“Boss.”
Vincent looked at him.
The intruder laughed.
“Too late.”
Then he bit down.
Vincent heard the crack.
Poison capsule.
The man's body went limp.
Daniel stared.
“Jesus.”
Vincent looked at him.
“You knew?”
“Knew what?”
“That they were coming.”
“No.”
Vincent stepped closer.
“Then why did they mention you?”
Daniel's face went pale.
“I don't know.”
Vincent studied him.
Then glanced toward the security camera in the corner.
The red light was blinking.
But there had been no recording.
Someone had disabled it.
Vincent's stomach tightened.
Someone inside the house had helped the intruders.
At 2:00 a.m., Vincent returned to the library.
Maeve was cleaning blood from the carpet.
“You should sleep.”
“So should you.”
“I own the house.”
“I clean it.”
He almost smiled.
“You're not afraid?”
“Terrified.”
“You don't look it.”
“I've learned not to.”
He studied her.
“Where did you learn how to fight?”
She kept scrubbing.
“Life.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“It's the only one I have.”
Vincent stepped closer.
“Why did you protect Leo?”
Maeve finally looked up.
“Because he was a child.”
“That simple?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
Vincent's voice lowered.
“You looked at him like you knew him.”
Maeve froze.
Then she whispered,
“I've seen him before.”
Vincent's expression changed.
“When?”
She looked toward the fireplace.
“Six months ago.”
He went still.
“Where?”
“At the hospital.”
“Why were you there?”
Maeve's eyes filled.
“My husband died there.”
Vincent stopped.
“You were married?”
“Yes.”
“What was his name?”
She looked at him.
“Evan Sullivan.”
Vincent's pulse jumped.
Because that name belonged to a man he had personally ordered investigated six months earlier.
A man supposedly killed in the same accident that killed Sarah.
A man who had disappeared from every record afterward.
Vincent stared at Maeve.
“What did Evan do?”
May you like
She whispered,
“He told me the Caldwell family was about to be destroyed from the inside.”
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