Chapter 8 - THE TRAP CLOSES
My legs nearly gave way. I gripped the banister to keep from falling, staring at those two words as they seemed to burn into the white paint.
Too late.
I ran out the door and down the steps. The mist clung to everything. The driveway was empty. No car. No sign of my father or Claire.
“DADDY!” I screamed. “CLAIRE!”
My voice was swallowed by the fog. Only silence answered me.
I stood there trembling, my mind racing. Julian had come in the night. He had taken them. But why leave me? Why leave me behind?
I ran back inside and grabbed the locket from around my neck—still safely tucked beneath my nightgown. He hadn’t found it. He hadn’t taken the evidence.
And then I understood.
He had taken my father and Claire to force me to come to him. He knew I would not stay away. He knew I would do anything to save them. He wanted the list. And he wanted me.
I ran to the kitchen and found a pen and a scrap of paper. I wrote quickly, my hand shaking:
I have the evidence. Come and get it. But let them go. Mia.
I taped it to the wall directly beneath his message. Then I packed a small bag—clothes, my father’s photograph, the locket, and the list. I slipped out the back door and into the woods behind the house.
I knew where he would take them. There was only one place he could hide them where no one would think to look. Only one place connected to everything that had happened.
The old Hale & Associates warehouse on the edge of town. Abandoned for years. Owned by the firm. Julian had used it for storage and secret meetings. I had heard my father mention it once.
I walked through the woods for what felt like hours. The mist began to lift as the sun rose, revealing familiar landmarks. I kept to the shadows, staying off the roads, moving as quietly as I could.
By mid-morning, I reached the edge of the industrial district. The warehouse stood before me—large, brick, windows broken and boarded over, surrounded by chain-link fencing. A single black car sat parked near the loading bay.
My father’s car.
My breath caught. They were here.
I climbed the fence carefully and dropped silently onto the other side. I crept toward the building and peered through a crack in the loading bay doors.
Inside, it was dim and cold. Sunlight filtered through high windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. And there—tied to wooden chairs in the center of the room—were my father and Claire.
Both were gagged. Their hands bound behind their backs. My father’s face was pale and streaked with dried blood. He slumped forward, his head bowed. Claire looked terrified but awake, her eyes scanning the room frantically.
Standing a short distance away, looking at his watch, was Julian.
I gripped the bag tightly. I had to be smart. I could not simply rush in. He would hurt them. He might hurt me too.
I spotted a small, cracked window high up on the side of the building. It looked down directly onto the floor below. If I could climb up there… I could see everything. And perhaps I could make him hear me without letting him see me.
I found a stack of wooden crates beneath the window and climbed up. It was wobbly and dangerous, but I reached the sill and pulled myself up. I peered down.
Julian walked over to my father and kicked his chair. My father’s head snapped up. His eyes found Julian instantly.
“Where is she?” Julian asked. He pulled the gag from my father’s mouth.
“She won’t come,” my father said, his voice rough and weak. “You’ve gone too far, Julian. This is over.”
“Not until I get what I want!” Julian leaned close. “Vanessa is facing life in prison. I am facing charges too. But if I get that list… if I destroy every piece of evidence… then everything goes back to how it was. Or better.”
“She will not go free,” my father said. “Not ever.”
Julian laughed—a sharp, bitter sound. “Then I will trade. The evidence for your lives. Or perhaps… I will trade one life for the other.” He pulled a knife from his pocket. The blade glinted in the sunlight. “Where is the list, Adrian?”
My father went still. “You will not touch her.”
“Then tell me where it is!”
“I don’t have it.”
Julian stepped closer. “Then who does?”
My father said nothing. He just stared at Julian—defiant, unbroken, even in chains.
Julian sighed. “Very well. If you will not tell me… perhaps your little girl will bring it herself. She left a note. Did you see it? She is brave. Too brave. And she will come to save you. I know she will.”
My father’s eyes widened in horror. “Julian—she is only six!”
“She is Elena’s daughter,” Julian said coldly. “And Elena should have thought about her child before she destroyed everything.”
I gripped the window ledge until my knuckles turned white. He was waiting for me. He expected me. And he was right—I had come.
But I had not come to hand him the evidence. I had come to expose him. And I had come to save the people I loved.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the list. I held it up to the light so I could read it once more. Then I looked down at Julian. He was pacing now, watching the door, checking his watch. He thought I would walk in through the loading bay. He expected me to be foolish.
I leaned forward until my voice carried clearly through the cracked glass.
“Julian!”
His head snapped up. He scanned the high windows, searching for me.
“Mia?”
“I have the list,” I called down. “Right here. But you will never touch it.”
“Come down, Mia,” he said, his voice suddenly soft and coaxing. “Bring it to me. Then I will let your father and Claire go. I promise.”
I shook my head. “You lie. You helped Vanessa kill my mother. You helped her lie to everyone. And now you are going to prison too.”
Julian’s face hardened. “You know nothing, little girl. Come down here now, or I will hurt them.”
“Let them go first,” I said. “Walk away. Leave them unchained. Then I will think about coming down.”
Julian laughed. “You do not make the rules here.” He turned back to my father. “Call her down. Or I will hurt Claire.”
He walked over to Claire and pulled the gag from her mouth. Claire gasped for air.
“Mia, run!” she screamed. “Don’t come down! Run away and call the police!”
Julian struck her across the face. Claire’s head snapped to the side.
“NO!” I screamed.
My father roared and struggled against his bonds, but Julian pressed the knife to Claire’s throat.
“Come down,” Julian shouted up at me. “Or she dies! Now!”
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I froze. My heart hammered so hard I thought it would burst. I looked at Claire—pale, terrified, the knife at her throat. At my father—straining forward, helpless, tears streaming down his face. At Julian—wild-eyed, desperate, completely out of control.
I had to do something. And I had to do it now.
