Chapter 6 - The Hidden Bloodline
The storm raged on as three black armored SUVs tore down the slick, winding backroads of coastal Connecticut, their engines roaring against the thunder.
In the lead vehicle, Richard sat in the front passenger seat, adjusting the tactical vest beneath his dark coat. Beside him, Vance was reviewing the blueprint of the Old Saybrook estate, projected on a ruggedized military laptop. In the rear seat, against Richard’s strict objections, Catherine sat buckled in, her face set in stone. She had refused to stay behind.
"If my sister is in that house, she needs to hear my voice," Catherine had told him back at the mansion. "She spent eight years thinking she was alone in the dark. I am not letting her spend another minute believing that."
"Here's the layout, boss," Vance said, pointing to the glowing red wireframe on the laptop screen. "The property is a secluded three-story coastal manor sitting on a cliff overlooking Long Island Sound. The fire department received an automated alarm from the East Wing ten minutes ago, but private security guards on site cancelled the dispatch, claiming it was a false alarm caused by a kitchen generator fault."
"They cancelled the fire department," Richard scoffed, his eyes narrowing. "They're burning evidence and containing the scene internally."
"Exactly," Vance nodded. "Thermal imaging from our overhead drone shows three vehicles parked in the courtyard. High thermal readings in the lower basement level—that's where the primary fire was set, but it looks like it was contained before spreading to the main structure. They’re locking the place down."
"What about Julian Chen?" Catherine asked, her voice trembling with restrained fury. "Is he there?"
Vance brought up a secondary satellite feed showing a luxury black Maybach parked under the estate's covered portico. "The vehicle registered to Chen’s personal detail is on site. He’s inside."
Richard checked the magazine of his permitted sidearm, racked the slide with a crisp clack, and engaged the safety.
"Vance," Richard commanded. "Disable the estate's external communications. Block all cellular signals within a half-mile radius. I don't want Chen calling in local enforcement or fleeing in a helicopter before we step foot on that pavement."
"Jammer active in thirty seconds, sir," Vance replied, tapping his forearm keypad.
Upstairs back at the Hartford mansion, the house was heavily guarded by six private security contractors. In her warm, carpeted bedroom, Mia sat on the edge of her bed, wearing clean dry pajamas printed with little yellow stars.
She couldn't sleep.
The rain was still beating against her window, but her mind was entirely on the tiny boy she had pulled from the mud. She held her favourite stuffed bear tight against her chest, listening to the muffled voices of the security guards stationed outside her hallway door.
She jumped up, walked over to her nightstand, and picked up a small, hand-drawn picture she had drawn earlier that week—a drawing of her father, her mother, and herself holding hands under a big yellow sun.
May you like
Mia took a green crayon from her desk, sat down on the floor, and carefully drew a tiny fourth figure right between herself and her mother. A little baby with a bright green necklace around its neck.
"Don't worry," Mia whispered to the picture, smiling softly. "Daddy went to get your mommy. Daddy never loses."
