Chapter 3 - The Man Who Came Home Early
By sunrise, the Costello estate looked less like a mansion and more like a fortress preparing for war.
Black vehicles filled the circular driveway.
Armed security teams moved through corridors that had been silent only hours earlier.
Every gate was locked.
Every employee had been questioned.
Every security recording was being examined.
Richard Lawson had disappeared.
And Beatrice Hayes sat at Damian Costello's dining table wearing the same maid uniform she had worked in the previous morning.
A cup of coffee sat untouched before her.
She had not slept since Damian awakened her.
Technically, she had slept.
In his bed.
She preferred not to think about that.
Across the room, Damian stood before the windows speaking quietly into his phone.
“No.”
Pause.
“Find him.”
Another pause.
“I don't care how long he's worked for us.”
His voice dropped.
“He tried to shoot me inside my own home.”
He ended the call.
Bea looked down.
Damian noticed.
“You're afraid of me.”
She considered lying.
“Yes.”
He walked toward the table.
“Good.”
Her eyes widened.
Damian sat across from her.
“Fear keeps people alive when they understand it. Panic gets them killed.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“No.”
Bea wrapped both hands around the coffee cup.
“What happens now?”
“To Richard?”
“To me.”
Damian leaned back.
“What do you think happens?”
“I don't know.”
“You saved my life.”
“You've mentioned that.”
“Then why do you think I'm going to hurt you?”
“Because everybody here is terrified of you.”
“Are they?”
She gave him a look.
Damian almost smiled.
“Fair.”
Beatrice stared at him.
Without the immediate threat of Richard outside the door, Damian seemed different.
Still dangerous.
Still intimidating.
But human.
Tired, even.
She wondered when he had last slept.
Probably before she had.
“Can I leave?”
Damian's expression changed.
“No.”
Her stomach tightened.
“You said—”
“I said I wouldn't hurt you.”
“Keeping me prisoner isn't exactly comforting.”
“Richard knows you heard him.”
“So?”
“So if you walk outside those gates alone, you'll be dead before lunch.”
Bea became quiet.
Damian leaned forward.
“He needs two people silenced now. Me and you.”
“I don't matter.”
“You have the evidence.”
“You have it now.”
“He doesn't know what you copied, what you saw, or what you told me.”
“I didn't copy anything.”
“Richard doesn't know that.”
Beatrice looked toward the windows.
Rain continued falling, though the storm had weakened.
“Then what am I supposed to do?”
“Stay here.”
“For how long?”
“Until I find him.”
“That could take weeks.”
“It won't.”
Something in Damian's tone made her believe him.
A security officer entered.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“We traced Lawson's car.”
“Where?”
“Abandoned near Cicero.”
“Cameras?”
“Nothing useful.”
Damian stood.
“And the house from Clara's photographs?”
“We found it.”
Beatrice looked up.
Damian's entire attention shifted.
“Where?”
“Lake Forest.”
“Who owns it?”
The officer hesitated.
“That's the problem.”
“Whose name?”
“Yours.”
Silence.
Damian stared at him.
“Repeat that.”
“The property is held through Costello Holdings. Purchased six years ago.”
“I've never seen it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Who authorized the purchase?”
“We're checking.”
Damian grabbed his jacket.
Bea stood.
“Where are you going?”
He looked at her.
“To find my sister.”
“I'm coming.”
“No.”
“I saw Richard. I heard him. I found the drive.”
“And none of those are reasons to put you in more danger.”
“You just told me I can't leave because I'm already in danger.”
Damian stared at her.
She had him.
He didn't like it.
Beatrice folded her arms.
“If Richard is there, I can identify his voice.”
“I know Richard's voice.”
“Then I can identify whatever else I heard.”
“No.”
“Damian—”
His eyes narrowed.
She realized it was the first time she had ever called him by his first name.
Apparently he realized it too.
Something almost amused passed through his expression.
Then vanished.
“Stay here, Beatrice.”
He walked out.
She watched him leave.
Five minutes later, she followed.
The Lake Forest property stood behind rusted gates at the end of a tree-lined road.
Damian stepped from his vehicle.
Then heard another car door.
He turned.
Beatrice climbed from the security SUV behind him.
Damian stared at his guards.
Nobody met his eyes.
“She refused to stay,” one finally said.
Beatrice lifted her chin.
Damian walked toward her.
“Do you have a death wish?”
“No.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because something on that flash drive may explain why Richard wanted me dead too.”
“He wants you dead because you're a witness.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
She lowered her voice.
“Richard knew my name before I ever introduced myself to him.”
Damian stopped.
“What?”
“My first week here. He called me Beatrice.”
“You wore a name badge.”
“No.”
Damian studied her.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“I didn't think it mattered until now.”
Damian looked toward the house.
Then back at Bea.
“Stay behind me.”
It was not permission.
But it was close enough.
They entered.
The house appeared abandoned.
Dust covered the floor.
Furniture sat beneath white sheets.
Damian moved from room to room.
Nothing.
Then Bea noticed scratches near a bookcase.
“Wait.”
Damian turned.
She pushed.
The bookcase moved.
Behind it was a staircase descending underground.
Damian's guards raised their weapons.
They went down.
The air became colder.
At the bottom stood a steel door.
Unlocked.
Damian opened it.
The room beyond contained medical equipment.
A bed.
Restraints.
Empty medication bottles.
And hundreds of photographs.
All of Damian.
Damian leaving restaurants.
Damian entering court.
Damian at his father's funeral.
Damian standing beside Clara's empty grave.
Beatrice moved slowly toward the wall.
“This wasn't a hiding place.”
Damian looked around.
“No.”
“It was observation.”
A sound came from the adjoining room.
Everyone froze.
Damian raised his weapon.
“Stay here.”
He entered.
The room was empty.
But a television had turned on automatically.
Richard Lawson appeared on the screen.
Recorded.
Smiling.
“Hello, Damian.”
Damian's jaw tightened.
“If you're watching this, then the maid was more resourceful than I expected.”
Beatrice went cold.
Richard continued.
“You're probably asking yourself the wrong question. You're wondering where Clara is.”
The recording leaned closer.
“You should be wondering why she never came home.”
Damian stepped toward the screen.
Richard smiled.
“Your sister wasn't kidnapped.”
A pause.
“She ran from you.”
The screen went black.
Beatrice looked at Damian.
His face showed nothing.
Then another monitor illuminated.
A live camera feed.
A woman sat in a dark room.
Dark hair.
Thin face.
Older than the photographs Damian remembered.
But unmistakable.
Clara.
She slowly lifted her head.
Looked directly into the camera.
And whispered:
“Damian, don't come looking for me.”
The feed vanished.
Damian stood completely still.
Then Bea noticed the reflection in the monitor.
Someone was standing behind them.
She turned.
May you like
A gunshot exploded.
And the room went dark.
