Chapter 3 - The Woman at the Gate
Darkness swallowed the room.
My hand found Adrian’s arm before my brain had time to object.
“Please tell me rich people have generators.”
“They do.”
“Wonderful. Any chance yours remembers that?”
Emergency lights clicked on.
Red illumination filled the security room.
Adrian was already moving.
“Lock the estate.”
The guard grabbed his radio.
“No one enters or leaves.”
“What about Evelyn?” I demanded.
Adrian looked toward the dead monitor.
“We find her.”
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
“That wasn’t a question.”
“Maya.”
“She might be my mother.”
“And whoever shut down my security knew exactly when she arrived.”
“I’m still going.”
For three seconds we stared at each other.
Then Adrian exhaled.
“Stay beside me.”
“Was that so difficult?”
“Yes.”
We moved through the mansion with two security men.
The luxurious hallways looked entirely different beneath emergency lighting.
Shadows stretched across marble.
Rain struck the windows.
Adrian walked slightly ahead of me, constantly scanning corners.
There was nothing theatrical about him now.
No threats.
No dramatic gestures.
Just control.
At the north entrance, another guard opened the interior door.
The iron gate stood fifty yards away.
Nobody was there.
I ran outside.
“Maya.”
I ignored Adrian.
Rain immediately soaked me again.
Apparently Thursday had declared war on dry clothing.
“Evelyn!”
Nothing.
I reached the gate.
An umbrella lay on the pavement.
Beside it was the silver necklace.
I picked it up.
My hands shook.
“Where did she go?”
Adrian examined the road.
“There are no vehicles.”
“She couldn’t disappear.”
“No.”
A piece of paper had been tucked beneath the umbrella.
Adrian reached for it.
I grabbed it first.
It contained only six words.
ASK ADRIAN WHAT HIS FATHER PROMISED.
I looked up.
Adrian’s expression told me everything.
“You know what this means.”
He remained silent.
“Adrian.”
“My father made many promises.”
“Apparently one mattered enough for my possible mother to leave me a note about it.”
Rain ran down his face.
Finally he said, “Inside.”
“No.”
“Maya.”
“No more mysterious mafia-boss answers.”
His jaw tightened.
“My father promised Daniel Bennett that if anything happened to him, the Voss family would protect his daughter.”
I froze.
“Me.”
“Yes.”
“Did you know about that promise?”
“Not until six months ago.”
That surprised me.
“How?”
“My father left sealed documents.”
“Why did you wait eighteen years to open them?”
“I didn’t know they existed.”
He explained that renovations to an old Voss warehouse had uncovered a safe behind a wall.
Inside were financial records, letters, photographs, and one envelope addressed to Adrian.
The envelope contained Daniel Bennett’s name.
And mine.
“That’s why you recognized my application.”
“Yes.”
“So six months ago you learned I existed.”
“Yes.”
“And eleven days ago I randomly applied for a job in your house?”
Adrian’s expression hardened.
“That coincidence has bothered me since you arrived.”
My stomach dropped.
I had found the job through an online staffing agency.
The listing had appeared the morning after I lost my restaurant job.
Good pay.
Housing optional.
No experience required.
I had applied because rent was due.
“What if somebody wanted me here?”
“That’s what I believe.”
“Why?”
“To make you find something.”
“What?”
“We need to examine everything your father left.”
The power returned twenty minutes later.
By midnight, Adrian and I were sitting in his private library.
The safe documents covered an enormous desk.
I learned more about my father in two hours than I had in eighteen years.
Daniel had been meticulous.
Dates.
Bank accounts.
Names.
Shipping numbers.
But one document mattered more than the rest.
A handwritten letter.
Vincent, if you are reading this, then I failed. Protect Maya. Do not trust Richard.
Richard Hale.
The attorney reflected in the photograph.
Adrian read the next line.
His face changed.
“What?”
He handed me the letter.
Evelyn knows where the ledger is.
“What ledger?”
“Probably proof of who stole the money.”
“So Richard killed my father for it?”
“We don’t know.”
“But you think so.”
“I think your father was warning mine.”
I read the final sentence.
The key is with Maya, though she will never know it is a key.
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Adrian looked at the silver necklace.
My breath caught.
I opened my palm.
The pendant was small and ordinary.
A silver oval with a tiny flower engraved into it.
I had owned it my entire life.
Adrian examined it.
“There’s a seam.”
He pressed the edge.
Nothing.
I twisted it.
Click.
The pendant opened.
Inside was something tiny.
Not a photograph.
A metal strip.
Adrian removed it carefully.
Numbers had been engraved across its surface.
42-19-7.
“What is that?”
“A deposit-box number, maybe.”
“Where?”
“That’s what we need to determine.”
A floorboard creaked outside.
Adrian’s head lifted.
The library door opened.
Mrs. Callahan stood there.
She looked exhausted.
“I need to tell you something.”
Adrian rose.
“What?”
Her eyes moved toward me.
“I knew Daniel Bennett.”
I stared.
“You knew my father?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
She walked slowly into the room.
“I worked for Vincent Voss.”
My mind struggled to catch up.
“You’ve known who I was since I arrived?”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“Not until Adrian showed me your application.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because Daniel made me promise.”
My anger returned.
“Everyone apparently made promises about my life except me.”
Her face tightened with guilt.
“You’re right.”
That answer disarmed me.
Mrs. Callahan sat down.
“Your father was a good man living inside a dangerous world. He wanted you nowhere near it.”
“Then why am I here?”
“Because someone brought you back.”
“Richard?”
“Possibly.”
She looked at my pendant.
Then she whispered, “Forty-two, nineteen, seven.”
Adrian stared.
“You recognize it.”
“Yes.”
“What is it?”
Mrs. Callahan looked toward the library shelves.
“Not a bank box.”
She stood and crossed toward an old collection of leather-bound books.
Shelf forty-two.
Book nineteen.
Page seven.
Adrian pulled down the nineteenth book.
An old history of Chicago.
He opened page seven.
The center had been hollowed out.
Inside was a brass key.
I stared at it.
“My father hid this here?”
Mrs. Callahan nodded.
“Eighteen years ago.”
Adrian picked it up.
“What does it open?”
“I don’t know.”
A telephone rang.
Not Adrian’s cell phone.
Not mine.
An old landline on the library desk.
Mrs. Callahan went pale.
“Nobody uses that phone.”
Adrian answered.
“Voss.”
Silence.
Then his expression changed.
He pressed speaker.
A man’s voice filled the room.
“Maya Bennett.”
My blood turned cold.
“Who is this?” Adrian asked.
The man laughed quietly.
“You found Daniel’s key.”
Adrian looked at me.
“Richard.”
Another laugh.
“So Vincent’s son finally learned something.”
I stepped toward the phone.
“Where is Evelyn?”
Silence.
Then Richard answered.
“Your mother has spent eighteen years protecting you, Maya.”
My throat tightened.
“Where is she?”
“Closer than you think.”
“What do you want?”
“The key.”
Adrian shook his head at me.
I ignored him.
“And if you get it?”
“You finally learn why your father died.”
The line disconnected.
I stared at the phone.
Then Mrs. Callahan whispered, “There’s only one place that key could open.”
Adrian turned.
“Where?”
She looked toward the windows.
“The old Voss boathouse.”
We reached it twenty minutes later.
The brass key opened a hidden compartment beneath the floor.
Inside was a waterproof metal case.
Adrian lifted it onto a table.
My hands trembled as he opened it.
There was no money.
No ledger.
Only a cassette recorder, several documents, and another photograph.
I picked up the picture.
My father stood holding five-year-old me.
Beside him was Evelyn.
Behind them stood Vincent Voss.
And someone had written four words across the back.
MAYA MUST NEVER KNOW.
Below those words was another sentence.
May you like
One that made Adrian stare at me in stunned silence.
Daniel Bennett was not Maya’s biological father.
