Chapter 2 - The Photograph That Made Elias Baron Tremble
For three years, I had known exactly how Daniel died.
At least, I thought I did.
A highway.
A collision.
A vehicle leaving the road.
Police.
Hospital.
A phone call at 2:17 in the morning that divided my life into two parts: before Daniel and after Daniel.
Now Elias Baron stood inside my apartment telling me it was a lie.
“What do you mean he was killed because of you?”
Elias didn't answer immediately.
That made me furious.
“You don't get to come into my home, say something like that, and then decide you're done talking.”
“Adeline.”
“No. Tell me.”
Evan shifted in bed.
“Addie…”
I looked at him and remembered he was sixteen.
Daniel had practically raised both of us after our mother died.
Evan had been thirteen when Daniel was killed.
Whatever Elias knew could destroy him all over again.
I turned back.
“Outside.”
Elias followed me into the hallway.
I pulled the damaged door mostly closed.
“Start talking.”
He looked at me for several seconds.
“Your brother and I served together.”
I blinked.
Daniel rarely discussed his deployments.
He had always said there were things he preferred leaving overseas.
“You were military?”
“A long time ago.”
“How did he save you?”
Elias leaned against the wall.
For once, he didn't look powerful.
He looked tired.
“There was an operation that went wrong. Daniel pulled me out when he could have saved himself.”
“Where?”
“I can't give you every detail.”
“Convenient.”
“It's not about convenience.”
“Then tell me what happened when he died.”
His jaw tightened.
“Years later, I contacted him.”
“Why?”
“I needed help.”
“With what?”
“A problem.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Is that what men like you call crimes?”
His eyes met mine.
“Sometimes.”
At least he didn't lie.
“What kind of problem?”
“Someone was moving weapons through one of my legitimate shipping companies without authorization. Daniel had experience identifying military equipment. I asked him to look at photographs and manifests.”
My stomach turned.
“You dragged him into your business.”
“I asked him for help.”
“And he died.”
“Yes.”
The word came quietly.
No excuses.
No attempt to escape responsibility.
“Was the car accident staged?”
“I believe so.”
“You believe?”
“I never proved it.”
I stepped closer.
“Three years. You had three years.”
“I looked.”
“Not hard enough.”
Something flashed across his face.
Pain.
Then it disappeared.
“I've spent three years trying to identify who ordered it.”
“And you never thought maybe his family deserved to know?”
“I didn't know about you.”
I stared at him.
“He never mentioned us?”
“He mentioned a sister and younger brother. Never names. Never addresses.”
That sounded like Daniel.
Protective even with friends.
Especially with dangerous ones.
“What did he tell you?”
Elias hesitated.
“That you were stubborn.”
Despite myself, my throat tightened.
“He said that?”
“He said his little sister could argue with a brick wall and somehow make the wall apologize.”
A laugh escaped me before I could stop it.
That was exactly something Daniel would say.
Then grief hit.
Hard.
I turned away.
For a few seconds neither of us spoke.
Finally Elias said, “The person leaking my warehouse routes may be connected to the operation Daniel discovered.”
I looked back.
“How?”
“The same warehouse numbers appeared in an old file.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“I don't know yet.”
“Then keep me out of it.”
“I intend to.”
“Good.”
“But you and Evan can't stay here.”
I almost laughed.
“Excuse me?”
“The person manipulating the security records knows your name.”
“So?”
“So if they were trying to frame you, they may know where you live.”
“We're not moving into your mansion.”
“I didn't say—”
“You were about to.”
His silence told me I was right.
“No.”
“Adeline.”
“No.”
“You have a broken lock.”
“I have a chair.”
“A chair?”
“I put it under the doorknob.”
He stared at me.
“That is possibly the least reassuring thing you've said today.”
“It's worked so far.”
“That's not security.”
“Neither is being followed home by my employer.”
Fair point.
His mouth almost moved into a smile.
Almost.
Then his phone buzzed.
He read something.
Whatever amusement had appeared disappeared.
“Stay here.”
“Why?”
He turned the screen toward me.
A photograph had been sent to him.
It showed the entrance to my apartment building.
Taken minutes earlier.
Beneath it were six words.
THE GIRL SHOULD HAVE STAYED INVISIBLE.
My blood went cold.
“Who sent that?”
“Unknown number.”
Elias called someone.
“Marco. Chelsea. Now.”
He hung up.
“I don't want your people here.”
“You stopped getting a vote when someone threatened you.”
“My apartment, my vote.”
“Then vote while packing.”
I hated him immediately.
Maybe not immediately.
But very efficiently.
Twenty minutes later, a black SUV stopped outside.
A man named Marco entered first.
He was broad-shouldered, maybe forty, with the permanently exhausted expression of someone who had spent years cleaning up other people's disasters.
Elias explained very little.
Marco asked even less.
Evan, however, had questions.
“Are you actually mafia?”
I closed my eyes.
“Evan.”
“What? Everyone in Boston knows the name.”
Elias looked at him.
“Don't believe everything you hear.”
“That's not a no.”
“Evan.”
He grinned.
For some reason Elias almost smiled.
We packed one suitcase.
That was all we owned worth packing.
At the mansion, everything felt different.
The marble floors I had cleaned hours earlier now echoed beneath my shoes as I entered through the front door instead of the servants' entrance.
Rosa saw me.
Then Evan.
Then Elias.
Her eyebrows nearly reached the ceiling.
Nobody explained.
Elias gave us rooms on the second floor.
Separate rooms.
Evan looked around his and whispered, “This bathroom is bigger than our apartment.”
“Don't get comfortable.”
“You think we're leaving?”
“Yes.”
He looked toward the hallway.
“I don't.”
That evening, Elias had a doctor examine Evan's wrist.
Then, without asking me, he arranged medication.
For Evan.
And for me.
When I found the prescription bottle sitting outside my bedroom, anger and gratitude fought inside my chest.
Gratitude won.
Barely.
At midnight, I couldn't sleep.
I wandered downstairs.
A light glowed beneath the library door.
Elias sat behind a desk covered in papers.
Daniel's photograph wasn't there.
But another photograph was.
I stepped closer.
It showed four soldiers.
One was Daniel.
Another was a much younger Elias.
Daniel had his arm thrown over Elias's shoulders.
They were both smiling.
“You kept this?”
Elias looked up.
“For twelve years.”
I picked up the photograph.
I'd never seen it.
“You really knew him.”
“Yes.”
“You were friends?”
“The closest thing I had to one.”
I studied young Elias.
He looked different.
Lighter.
“What happened to you?”
His eyebrow lifted.
“That was rude.”
“It was a question.”
“A rude question.”
“You don't have to answer.”
He leaned back.
“My father happened.”
I waited.
He didn't continue.
I understood boundaries.
Sometimes.
“What are those?” I asked, pointing to the papers.
“Warehouse records.”
“Looking for your traitor?”
“Yes.”
“Any luck?”
“No.”
I noticed one sheet.
A name was circled.
D. HAYES.
My heart jumped.
“What is that?”
Elias reached for it.
I pulled it away.
“Adeline.”
“What is it?”
“An old shipping manifest.”
“Why is Daniel's name on it?”
He stood.
“Give me the paper.”
“No.”
“Please.”
That frightened me.
Elias Baron didn't seem like a man who said please often.
I looked closer.
The document was dated two days before Daniel died.
There was a handwritten note beside his name.
Found secondary ledger. Knows everything.
My hands began shaking.
“What secondary ledger?”
“I don't know.”
“Was Daniel investigating someone?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“We never found out.”
I scanned the page.
At the bottom was a string of numbers.
Then three initials.
V.M.C.
“What's this?”
Elias took the page.
“I don't know.”
“You're lying.”
“No.”
“You did something with your jaw.”
“My jaw?”
“It tightens when you lie.”
“You've known me for three weeks.”
“And?”
He stared at me.
Then he sighed.
“I've seen those initials once before.”
“Where?”
He opened a drawer.
Inside was an old envelope.
Daniel's handwriting was across the front.
I recognized it instantly.
ELIAS — IF SOMETHING HAPPENS TO ME.
My knees nearly gave out.
“You had this?”
“It arrived after his death.”
“You never opened it?”
“I did.”
“Then what's inside?”
Elias pulled out a single sheet.
Most of it was blank.
Only one sentence appeared.
The ledger is where you first owed me your life.
I looked at Elias.
“What does that mean?”
“For three years, I thought it referred to Afghanistan.”
“And now?”
“Daniel knew I couldn't return there.”
“Then where?”
Elias stared at the old photograph of the four soldiers.
His eyes narrowed.
“Maybe he wasn't talking about the country.”
He flipped the photograph over.
Something was written on the back.
A date.
An address.
And beneath it, Daniel had written four words.
WHERE I SAVED ELIAS AGAIN.
Elias went completely still.
“What?” I asked.
He looked at me.
“I know where the ledger is.”
Before I could ask, an alarm screamed through the mansion.
Red lights flashed.
Footsteps thundered outside.
Marco burst into the library.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“We've got an intruder.”
Elias moved instantly.
“Where?”
Marco's face was grim.
“Second floor.”
My heart stopped.
Evan.
I ran.
“Adeline!”
I ignored Elias.
I reached the stairs as another alarm sounded.
Then I saw Evan standing at the top.
He was alive.
But he wasn't alone.
A masked man had one arm around his throat.
And pressed against my little brother's neck was a knife.
The intruder looked directly at Elias.
May you like
“Give me Daniel Hayes's letter,” he said, “or the boy dies.”
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