Chapter 6 - The Girl Hidden in the White House
We found Clara three days later.
Not in Milwaukee.
Not in Illinois.
Not anywhere near the Vescari estate.
She was living in a quiet suburban neighborhood outside Washington, D.C.
Under a different name.
With a woman who had claimed to be her aunt.
Julian flew there the same night.
I went with him.
On the plane, he said almost nothing.
He kept staring at his hands.
“You're scared,” I said.
“Yes.”
“Of meeting your daughter?”
“Of her not recognizing me.”
“She will.”
“You don't know that.”
“I know children remember voices.”
He looked at me.
“How?”
“I've worked with children.”
He nodded.
Then he asked:
“Do you regret saving me?”
I smiled faintly.
“Every few hours.”
He almost laughed.
It was the first genuine laugh I had heard from him.
We found the house at 6:20 a.m.
A woman opened the door.
She saw Julian.
Her face went white.
“Where is she?”
The woman stepped back.
Julian moved forward.
I followed.
“Please,” the woman whispered. “They'll kill her.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“Where is Clara?”
The woman pointed upstairs.
We found a little girl sitting beside a window.
Yellow sweater.
Dark hair.
Silver bird necklace.
She looked at Julian.
Then she looked at me.
“Are you my daddy?”
Julian stopped breathing.
“Yes.”
She studied him.
“You don't look like the pictures.”
He swallowed.
“I changed.”
“Did you die?”
“No.”
“Why did everyone say you did?”
Julian sat still.
“Because someone was afraid you would find me.”
Clara looked at his wheelchair.
“Did they hurt you?”
He nodded.
“Who?”
She looked toward the door.
“Uncle Marcus.”
Julian's jaw clenched.
“What did Uncle Marcus do?”
“He said you were bad.”
“And Victoria?”
Clara frowned.
“Aunt Victoria was nice.”
That surprised us.
“What did she do?”
“She brought me books.”
“Did she hide you?”
Clara nodded.
“Why?”
“She said Daddy would come looking.”
I looked at Julian.
“Then Victoria wasn't the mastermind.”
Julian shook his head.
“Maybe not.”
Clara suddenly reached for my hand.
“You're the lady from the lake.”
I froze.
“What?”
“I saw you.”
Julian turned.
Clara continued.
“From upstairs.”
“You were at the estate?”
“Sometimes.”
“When?”
“Before you came.”
I knelt.
“Clara, what happened the day Daddy fell?”
She looked frightened.
“A man told everyone not to help.”
“Who?”
She looked toward the hallway.
“Daddy's uncle.”
Julian's face hardened.
“Dominic.”
Clara nodded.
“Why?”
“Because he said Daddy needed to disappear.”
“Did he push Daddy?”
“No.”
“Who did?”
Clara shook her head.
“Nobody.”
“What?”
“The chair moved by itself.”
I looked at Julian.
She continued.
“Uncle Dominic had a little remote.”
My blood went cold.
“The wheelchair was controlled remotely.”
Julian stared.
That explained everything.
Someone had not simply removed the retaining pin.
They had hacked the wheelchair.
A remote-control system.
The accident had been engineered.
“Where's the remote?” Julian asked.
Clara reached beneath her pillow.
A small black device.
Julian took it.
It carried a family crest.
The Vescari crest.
But underneath was another mark.
A tiny bird.
Isabella's symbol.
Julian looked at me.
“She left this for Clara.”
“Then Isabella was helping.”
“Yes.”
A sound came from downstairs.
Rafael's voice.
“Mr. Vescari!”
We ran.
Three men had entered the house.
A gunfight erupted.
Julian pushed Clara behind a wall.
I grabbed her hand.
“Stay with me.”
One of the attackers shouted:
“Take the girl!”
I ran.
We escaped through the back door.
The attackers followed.
Rafael fired.
I pulled Clara into the woods.
Branches tore my arms.
We reached a drainage tunnel.
Clara was crying.
I held her.
“You're safe.”
Behind us, footsteps approached.
Then Julian's voice.
“Don't move.”
The attackers stopped.
Julian had his gun raised.
He looked terrifying.
One man ran.
Rafael tackled him.
The other surrendered.
During the interrogation, we discovered something worse.
The man worked for Dominic.
But Dominic worked for someone else.
A woman.
Someone with access to Julian's medical files.
Someone with knowledge of the lake.
Someone who knew about Daniel Marlowe.
The woman was called Evelyn Hart.
Julian stared at the file.
“Who is she?”
Naomi answered.
“My father's former chief accountant.”
I looked at the photograph.
I knew her.
She had interviewed me.
Eleven days before I entered the mansion.
She had been the woman at the staffing agency.
The person who had approved my employment.
I whispered:
“She hired me.”
May you like
Julian looked at me.
“Exactly.”
