Chapter 21 - The Missing Child
Daniel sprang to his feet, knocking the coffee table aside, and threw open the bedroom door.
The bed was empty.
The window facing the fire escape was cracked open four inches. A cold, wet breeze was blowing the sheer curtains inward like frantic white ghosts. On the sill, held down by a smooth river stone, was a child’s red ribbon.
"Lily!" Rachel shrieked, rushing past Daniel toward the open window. "Lily!"
Daniel caught Rachel by the waist before she could climb out onto the rain-slicked iron slats of the fire escape. "Stay here! Call the detectives! Call Detective Harris directly—use the bypass number he gave us!"
"She's gone, Daniel! They took her!" Rachel screamed, clawing at his chest in blind hysteria.
"Look at the fire escape, Rachel!" Daniel shouted, forcing her to focus. "There are no wet footprints out there! The iron is dry under the sill! It's a decoy!"
Daniel spun around, his eyes sweeping the small bedroom. The closet door was ajar. Lily’s sneakers were missing, along with her bright yellow raincoat.
Then he heard it.
From the hallway outside the apartment door—the distinct, mechanical chime of the building’s service elevator descending toward the basement garage.
Daniel didn't wait. He bolted through the front door, ignored the main elevator, and threw himself down the concrete stairwell, taking four steps at a time. The echoes of his heavy boots against the concrete sounded like gunshots in the stairwell shaft.
*Not again. Not Lily. Not after everything.*
He reached the subterranean parking garage just as the heavy industrial doors swung open. The underground lot was dimly lit by flickering fluorescent tubes, the air smelling of gasoline, motor oil, and damp concrete.
Fifty yards away, near the delivery bay, an unmarked black SUV was idling, its exhaust fumes billowing into the cool air. Standing beside the rear door was a man wearing a dark utility jacket and a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes.
He was holding Lily by the hand. Lily wasn't struggling. She was walking docilely, clutching her one-eared teddy bear to her chest, her small yellow hood pulled up over her curls.
"Lily!" Daniel roared, his voice echoing off the concrete pillars.
The man turned his head sharply. Under the rim of the cap, Daniel didn't see an anonymous thug or a hired hitman.
He saw Arthur Pendelton’s courier. The old man who had delivered the mahogany box that morning.
"Step back, Mr. Miller," the old man said, his voice carrying clearly across the vacant garage. "The trust must be fulfilled. The board convenes at dawn."
"Let her go!" Daniel sprinted across the oil-stained concrete, his eyes locked on his daughter.
The old man didn't pull a weapon. He didn't panic. He simply reached into his pocket and lifted a small black remote control.
He pressed the red button.
Behind Daniel, the heavy steel security gate of the parking garage slammed down with a bone-jarring crash, severing the exit. At the same instant, two bright headlights flared to life from a secondary vehicle parked in the shadows behind the delivery ramp.
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The second vehicle—a heavy pickup truck with a reinforced steel bumper—slammed its accelerator, tires smoking against the polished concrete, rocketing straight toward Daniel.
***
