Chapter 2 - The Little Girl Someone Wanted GoneAt 9:16 that same Sunday night, Naomi's phone rang.
She looked at the screen.
Her mother's number.
Her stomach dropped.
She answered immediately.
“Mom?”
There was no response.
“Mom?”
Static.
Then a whisper.
“Naomi.”
It was Elaine.
Naomi stood up.
“What happened?”
“Come home.”
“Are you okay?”
“No.”
Marcus was already moving.
“What is it?”
“She's scared,” Naomi whispered.
Marcus grabbed his keys.
“Where do you live?”
“I can go alone.”
“No.”
“Marcus—”
“Someone knows where your family lives.”
Naomi looked at Vanessa.
The woman was crying silently.
Marcus saw it.
“You're coming too.”
Vanessa stared.
“What?”
“If your mother is involved, you're the only person who can tell us where she might go.”
Vanessa shook her head.
“She'll kill me.”
Marcus looked at her.
“Not if I get there first.”
They left the penthouse through the private elevator.
A black SUV waited downstairs.
As they drove, Naomi called her mother again.
Nothing.
She called the neighbor.
No answer.
Her heart pounded.
“Please don't let anything happen to Ava.”
Marcus looked at her.
“It won't.”
“You can't promise that.”
“I can promise we'll get there.”
They reached the apartment twenty-two minutes later.
The front door was open.
Naomi froze.
“Mom?”
Marcus stepped in first.
The living room was destroyed.
A lamp lay on the floor.
A drawer had been pulled open.
Photographs were scattered across the rug.
Naomi ran toward the bedroom.
“Ava!”
Nothing.
The bed was empty.
The stuffed rabbit was on the floor.
Naomi stopped breathing.
“No.”
Marcus followed.
“She's gone.”
Naomi collapsed to her knees.
“No, no, no.”
Then she saw something on the pillow.
A note.
BRING THE LEDGER.
Marcus picked it up.
“Don't touch.”
Naomi stared.
“What ledger?”
Marcus looked at her.
“You have one?”
She swallowed.
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“At home.”
“Where is it?”
She pointed toward the kitchen.
“Hidden.”
Marcus followed her.
She removed a vent cover beneath the sink.
Inside was a black notebook.
He opened it.
Names.
Dates.
Payments.
Bank accounts.
Whitfield Properties.
Cole Industries.
Private foundations.
Political donations.
The names of judges.
Construction inspectors.
Union officials.
And one name written repeatedly.
Richard Whitfield.
Marcus stared.
“My father.”
Naomi nodded.
“It was his.”
“You knew?”
“I found it six months ago.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because every person who tried to expose this disappeared.”
Vanessa stepped into the kitchen.
She saw the ledger.
Her face went white.
“My mother.”
Naomi turned.
“What?”
“She doesn't keep one.”
Marcus frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“She keeps everything digitally.”
“Then why does she need this?”
Vanessa pointed.
“She doesn't.”
Silence.
“This isn't my mother's ledger,” she whispered.
Naomi stared.
“Then whose is it?”
Marcus looked at the handwriting.
He recognized it.
“Arthur.”
Naomi frowned.
“Who?”
“My father's younger brother.”
“Your uncle?”
“He disappeared seven years ago.”
Vanessa stared.
“That's impossible.”
Marcus opened another page.
Arthur Whitfield had written a note.
The truth isn't in the money. It's in the blood.
Naomi felt cold.
“What does that mean?”
Marcus didn't answer.
His phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
A man's voice said:
“You have three hours.”
“Who is this?”
“Someone who knows where your daughter is.”
Naomi grabbed the phone.
“Put her on.”
A child's voice whispered:
“Mommy?”
Naomi's knees nearly gave out.
“Ava?”
“Mommy, I'm okay.”
A man's voice returned.
“Bring the ledger to the old Whitfield rail yard.”
Marcus spoke calmly.
“Why?”
“Because you want the girl.”
“What happens if I come?”
“You get her.”
“And if I don't?”
A pause.
“You lose more than a child.”
The call ended.
Marcus looked at Naomi.
“I'm coming.”
She shook her head.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“It's too dangerous.”
He stared.
“You've been protecting me for months.”
“Yes.”
“Now let me protect your daughter.”
Naomi's eyes filled.
Vanessa looked at Marcus.
“There's something else.”
“What?”
“My mother isn't taking Ava.”
“Then who is?”
Vanessa whispered:
“Someone who works for your family.”
Marcus went still.
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“But they knew about the ledger.”
“Yes.”
“Which means…”
“They're inside the Whitfield organization.”
Marcus looked at Naomi.
“Then we don't trust anyone.”
They reached the rail yard at 11:02.
The place was empty.
Old warehouses.
Rusting tracks.
Cold wind.
Naomi clutched the ledger.
Marcus scanned the buildings.
Then the lights came on.
A man stepped out.
He looked familiar.
Naomi recognized him first.
“Mr. Bennett?”
Marcus's security chief.
Bennett smiled.
“You're not supposed to be here.”
Marcus raised his gun.
“You took Ava.”
Bennett shook his head.
“I protected her.”
Naomi's face twisted.
“Where is she?”
Bennett pointed toward an office.
“She is safe.”
Marcus moved.
Bennett stopped him.
“Not so fast.”
“Why?”
“Because your problem isn't Vanessa.”
Marcus looked toward his fiancée.
Vanessa stood frozen.
Bennett continued.
“It's your uncle.”
“Arthur?”
Bennett smiled.
“He's alive.”
Naomi's stomach dropped.
Marcus stared.
“Where?”
Bennett answered:
“Standing behind you.”
Marcus turned.
A man emerged from the darkness.
Older.
Scar across his cheek.
Same gray eyes.
Arthur Whitfield.
Alive.
He looked at Marcus.
“You have no idea how much trouble I've been trying to keep you out of.”
Marcus lowered his weapon.
“You're supposed to be dead.”
May you like
Arthur smiled bitterly.
“So is half your family.”
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