Chapter 3 - The Traitor Inside the Gate
I was in the SUV before Julian finished the sentence.
“Drive.”
Marco jumped in beside me.
Our convoy pulled out so fast one vehicle clipped a hedge.
I called Clara.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
My chest tightened.
“Call security.”
Marco was already doing it.
“North gate responding.”
“What about the house?”
He listened.
His face changed.
“Kitchen team answers. Hall post answers. Second-floor post…”
He looked at me.
“No response.”
“Who?”
“Derek.”
Derek Voss had worked for me for five years.
Former military.
Married.
Two children.
A man who had once stepped in front of a knife meant for Marco.
I trusted him.
That was the problem with betrayal.
Strangers cannot betray you.
Only trusted people qualify.
We were twelve minutes away.
Too far.
I called Evelyn.
She answered immediately.
“Where's Clara?”
“With Dr. Bennett.”
“Put her on.”
Silence.
“Evelyn.”
“She went upstairs fifteen minutes ago.”
“Find her.”
I heard footsteps.
A door opening.
Then Evelyn's voice changed.
“Leo.”
“What?”
“She isn't here.”
The world narrowed.
“Window?”
“Open.”
Marco cursed.
I forced myself to think.
“No panic.”
He looked at me.
“Boss—”
“No panic.”
Because panic wastes information.
“Track her phone.”
Marco opened the security system.
“Phone is still in the house.”
Of course.
“Camera feeds.”
He searched.
Several cameras had gone black.
Only the west corridor.
The garage.
Garden.
“Someone planned this.”
“Yes.”
At the estate, we found Derek unconscious beside the rear service stairs.
Alive.
Someone had struck him with a heavy object.
Not our traitor.
Good.
One possibility removed.
Clara's bedroom window was open.
But there were no signs of forced removal.
Instead, muddy footprints crossed the carpet.
Small.
Female.
Evelyn stood beside the bed.
“I found this.”
A piece of paper.
COME ALONE IF YOU WANT TO KNOW WHAT JULIAN REALLY DID.
Below was an address.
Clara had followed it.
I closed my eyes.
“Why would she go?”
Evelyn looked angry.
“At herself?”
“At me.”
“Because victims of abuse are trained to believe they must solve the danger themselves.”
That cut deeper than accusation.
Clara had come to me for help.
Within two hours, I had surrounded her husband's house with twenty-four men.
Perhaps I had made her feel rescued.
Or perhaps I had simply become another man making decisions around her.
Marco traced traffic cameras.
Clara had taken one of the estate cars.
She was heading south.
The address belonged to an abandoned medical clinic.
We arrived twenty-six minutes later.
No Clara.
Only a phone taped beneath a chair.
It rang.
I answered.
Crowe.
“Where is she?”
“Safe.”
“Define safe.”
“Alive.”
“Where?”
“You're impatient.”
“My sister is injured.”
“Your sister is remarkably capable.”
I looked around.
A camera blinked in the ceiling corner.
He could see us.
“What do you want?”
“The original Romano trust documents.”
“Why?”
“Because your father added an amendment shortly before he died.”
My stomach tightened.
“What amendment?”
“Don't pretend ignorance.”
“I don't.”
Crowe went silent.
That told me something.
He did not know exactly what the amendment contained.
He only knew it mattered.
“Bring me the trust binder by noon.”
“Then Clara walks?”
“Yes.”
“You're lying.”
“Probably.”
I smiled despite myself.
“Thank you.”
“For?”
“Confirming something.”
“What?”
“You don't have Clara.”
Silence.
Marco looked at me.
Crowe said, “Careful.”
“If you had her, I’d hear her.”
“She could be unconscious.”
“You'd prove possession.”
Silence again.
I continued.
“You sent the note. She went somewhere else.”
Crowe hung up.
Marco stared.
“You believe that?”
“No.”
“Then?”
“I wanted him uncertain.”
We searched the clinic.
In a back office, we found another clue.
Blood.
Not Clara’s.
According to the rapid kit.
A man’s.
And a broken gold cuff link.
Marco picked it up.
“Vale.”
Julian wore identical ones during his wedding.
I called the team still watching his mansion.
“Where is Julian?”
The answer came immediately.
“Gone.”
Of course.
He had slipped through a basement service exit while Crowe distracted us.
Clara had not been taken by Crowe.
She had gone looking for Julian.
I wanted to scream.
Instead, I called her best friend.
No answer.
Her old apartment.
Empty.
Then Evelyn found a transfer.
Clara had used a card at a gas station near Lake Geneva.
She was moving north.
“Why north?” Marco asked.
I knew.
“The lake house.”
Clara and Julian owned a vacation property there.
More importantly, it was where Clara once told me Julian kept “work papers he never let anyone touch.”
We drove.
The storm worsened.
At 9:13 a.m., I received a call.
Clara.
“Where are you?”
Her voice shook.
“Leo.”
“Where?”
“The lake house.”
“We're ten minutes away.”
“No.”
“What?”
“Don't come inside.”
I heard breathing.
“Clara.”
“I found Julian.”
“Is he armed?”
“No.”
“Crowe?”
“Not here.”
“Then why—”
She interrupted.
“Because I found the files.”
“What files?”
A pause.
“Everything.”
I could hear paper moving.
“Julian recorded conversations. Crowe. Bankers. City officials. Police.”
My heart accelerated.
“Get out.”
“Leo—”
“Take nothing. Leave.”
“There’s something about Dad.”
I went cold.
“What?”
“A recording.”
“No.”
“Leo—”
“Leave the house.”
“Crowe knew Dad was going to meet the federal prosecutor the night he died.”
I tightened my grip on the phone.
Then I heard a sound behind Clara.
A door.
She gasped.
“Clara?”
A man's voice.
Julian.
“You should have stayed at your brother's house.”
The call went dead.
“Faster,” I told Marco.
He was already driving ninety.
We reached the lake property seven minutes later.
Front door open.
No guards.
I entered first.
The living room was empty.
Then I heard Clara upstairs.
“Get away from me.”
I climbed.
Julian stood in the master bedroom.
Clara was against the wall.
He held no gun.
He did hold a fireplace poker.
He looked wild.
“You brought him.”
Clara shook her head.
“No.”
Julian looked at me.
“This is her fault.”
I walked toward him.
“Put it down.”
“She ruined me.”
“Put it down.”
“She could have signed.”
I kept walking.
Julian raised the poker.
Marco entered behind me.
Julian looked between us.
Then did something unexpected.
He dropped it.
Metal hit hardwood.
He sank onto the bed.
“I’m dead anyway.”
Clara stared.
I moved between them.
“Who is going to kill you?”
Julian laughed.
“Crowe.”
“Why?”
“Because I made copies.”
Clara held up a flash drive.
Julian looked at her.
“That has enough evidence to bury half the people he works with.”
I looked at him.
“Why keep it?”
“Insurance.”
“Against Crowe?”
“Against everybody.”
Clara spoke quietly.
“Including me?”
Julian would not look at her.
She crossed the room.
I tensed.
But Clara stopped several feet away.
“Did you ever love me?”
Julian finally raised his eyes.
For one second, he looked human.
“Yes.”
“Then why did you hurt me?”
He cried.
“I was desperate.”
Clara's expression changed.
The woman who had arrived at my door terrified was disappearing.
In her place stood someone colder.
Clearer.
“No.”
Julian stared.
“You were entitled.”
She put the flash drive in her pocket.
“You believed loving me meant owning what belonged to me.”
“Clara—”
“And when I said no, you punished me.”
He stood.
“I can fix this.”
“No.”
“Please.”
She backed away.
“I spent three years trying to fix you.”
Then glass exploded downstairs.
Marco pulled Clara behind him.
A gunshot followed.
May you like
Crowe had found us.
And this time, he had not come to negotiate.
