Chapter 15 - THE LIVE FEED
Lily sat on a folding chair in a room with bare concrete walls.
Her hands were free.
Her feet were free.
That should have made me feel better.
It did not.
A camera was positioned several feet in front of her.
Behind her stood a metal door.
No windows.
No landmarks.
Nothing that told us where she was.
The live feed had been left running on the laptop at the abandoned boat yard.
A message appeared beneath it.
SMART GIRL.
Another message followed.
HER MOTHER SHOULD BE SMART TOO.
I stood in the police command center watching my daughter breathe.
She looked exhausted.
Her hair was tangled.
She still wore the purple-star pajama top, but someone had given her jeans and sneakers.
I pressed my hand to the screen.
"Lily."
She could not hear me.
Detective Cole ordered technicians to trace the stream.
The connection was encrypted and routed through multiple servers.
Ryan stood behind us.
"Evan knows systems."
I turned.
"Then help."
"I am trying."
"Try harder."
He sat beside the technical team and began looking through the ledger files from the red drive.
Graham worked another angle.
He called former employees who had worked with Evan.
I had nothing to do except watch.
That was unbearable.
Then Lily moved.
She looked directly into the camera.
At first, I thought she had been told to.
Then she lifted her right hand and scratched her left shoulder.
Three times.
Pause.
Two times.
Pause.
Four times.
I leaned closer.
"What is she doing?"
Nobody answered.
She repeated it.
Three.
Two.
Four.
Then she tapped her knee.
Once.
Four times.
Once.
My teacher brain clicked into place.
"Letters."
Detective Cole looked at me.
"What?"
"Numbers to letters."
Three is C.
Two is B.
Four is D.
That made no sense.
Then Lily tapped her fingers differently.
Three short.
Two long.
Four short.
I frowned.
"No."
I watched again.
She was not encoding letters.
She was counting something.
I looked around the room on the screen.
Three overhead pipes.
Two exposed beams.
Four bolts on the metal door.
No.
Then Lily coughed.
One cough.
Pause.
Four coughs.
Pause.
One cough.
"She is using our game."
Ryan looked up.
"What game?"
"The license plate game."
Lily and I played it on road trips.
Numbers represented positions in words from road signs.
But we needed the words.
"She needs a reference."
I scanned the screen.
A faded sign hung on the wall behind her.
Only part was visible.
...ARINE SUP...
Marine Supply.
I grabbed a marker.
"She is pointing us to text."
Lily scratched her shoulder three times.
Third letter of MARINE.
R.
Then two taps.
Second letter of SUPPLY.
U.
Four taps.
Fourth letter of MARINE.
I.
RUI.
Wrong.
I stared again.
Maybe multiple words in order.
The sign likely said something longer.
Graham suddenly leaned toward the screen.
"I know that sign."
Everyone turned.
"Where?"
"A marina supply company Charles bought years ago."
"Name?"
"Narragansett Marine Supply."
Detective Cole was already searching.
The company had closed eight years earlier.
Its warehouse still existed near Bristol.
Units were dispatched.
My heart hammered.
Then the live feed changed.
A man stepped into frame.
Evan Hale.
I recognized him from the database photograph.
He wore a dark jacket and looked exhausted.
He placed a bottle of water beside Lily.
"You are very clever."
Lily stared at him.
"My mom says that too."
My throat closed.
Evan crouched.
"Your mom is causing problems."
"You took me."
"Because she would not listen."
"That is still your fault."
Despite everything, I almost smiled.
Evan did not.
"Do you know what is on the red drive?"
"No."
"Did your father tell you?"
"No."
"Did your mother?"
"No."
He studied her.
"You are lying."
Lily shrugged.
"Maybe."
My daughter had learned sarcasm at exactly the wrong time.
Evan stood.
"You should be careful."
"You should let me go."
"Soon."
"That is what adults say when they are lying."
The room behind me went silent.
Evan stared at her.
Then he laughed.
"You really are Claire's daughter."
That sentence bothered me.
"He knows me," I whispered.
Ryan looked at the screen.
"Through Vanessa."
"No."
Something in Evan's tone felt personal.
Familiar.
Then he looked directly into the camera.
"Claire, if you are watching, stop sending police to empty buildings."
My blood went cold.
The warehouse in Bristol.
Another decoy.
Detective Cole immediately tried to recall the units, but they were already approaching.
Evan continued.
"You have forty-five minutes to bring the red drive to the address I am sending."
A location appeared beneath the video.
I recognized it.
My father's old house.
The house where Vanessa and I grew up.
Mom had sold it after Dad died.
Or so I thought.
Graham looked at me.
"Why there?"
I shook my head.
"I do not know."
Ryan did.
His face went pale.
"Daniel's office."
I stared at him.
"What about it?"
"The wall safe."
"There was no wall safe."
"Yes, there was."
"How do you know?"
Ryan swallowed.
"Your father showed me."
I could barely process the betrayal anymore.
"When?"
"Before he died."
"Why would he show you?"
"Because he wanted me to protect you."
I laughed bitterly.
"You did a spectacular job."
He accepted it.
"He told me if anything happened to him, there was evidence in the safe."
"Did you open it?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because after he died, the wall had been renovated. I thought the safe was removed."
Graham looked at the address.
"Who owns the house now?"
Detective Cole searched property records.
Her expression changed.
"A trust."
"Whose?"
"Mercer Family Holdings."
I stared at her.
Charles had bought my childhood home.
Not openly.
Through a trust.
And nobody had told me.
The live feed showed Evan checking his watch.
"Forty-four minutes."
Lily looked at the camera.
"Mom, do not come."
Evan's face tightened.
"Quiet."
She raised her voice.
"Mom, it is a trap!"
He grabbed the camera.
The image spun.
Before the feed went black, I saw something on the floor behind him.
A painted blue line.
And a yellow number.
12.
The feed cut.
I turned to Detective Cole.
"What kind of building has numbered floor bays and painted lines?"
Ryan answered first.
"A storage facility."
Graham shook his head.
"Or a warehouse."
Detective Cole pulled up satellite maps around the old Whitmore house.
No warehouses.
No storage facilities.
Then I remembered my father taking us somewhere as children.
A building that smelled like oil and wood dust.
Rows of numbered work bays.
Blue lines on the floor.
"Dad's old fabrication shop."
Everyone looked at me.
"Where?"
"Warwick."
"Name?"
"Whitmore Fabrication."
Graham started typing.
The company had been dissolved.
The property changed hands three times.
Current owner.
HCS Advisory.
Evan Hale.
Detective Cole grabbed her radio.
This time, she did not send patrol cars with sirens.
She sent a tactical team quietly.
I stayed glued to the black screen.
Minutes passed.
At 12:31, my phone rang.
Evan.
"You are late."
I looked at Detective Cole.
She nodded for me to keep him talking.
"I am coming."
"You have fourteen minutes."
"I need to know Lily is okay."
"She is."
"Let me hear her."
"No."
"Then I do not move."
Silence.
He cursed.
Then Lily's voice came through.
"Mom?"
"I am here."
"I am okay."
I heard something behind her.
A faint metallic bang.
Then another.
Evan said, "Enough."
But Lily shouted before the phone moved away.
"BLUE DOOR!"
The line went dead.
Detective Cole relayed it.
At the fabrication shop, officers found three blue doors.
Two were locked.
One had fresh tire marks outside.
The team entered.
I watched Detective Cole's face as reports came through her earpiece.
First room clear.
Second room clear.
Hallway clear.
Then a pause.
"Movement in Bay Twelve."
My knees weakened.
Another pause.
Longer.
Then Detective Cole's eyes filled with something I had not seen before.
Relief.
She looked at me.
"They have Lily."
I collapsed into the nearest chair.
"Alive?"
"Alive."
I sobbed so hard I could not make sound.
Ryan covered his face.
Graham sat down beside me.
Detective Cole kept listening.
Then her expression changed again.
"What?" I asked.
She did not answer immediately.
"What?"
"Evan is not there."
My relief twisted.
"He left her?"
"Apparently."
"Why?"
Detective Cole listened again.
Then she looked at me.
"Because he took something with him."
"What?"
"A metal document box."
Ryan went pale.
"The original agreement."
But Detective Cole shook her head.
"No."
She read the label officers had found on the empty shelf.
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DANIEL WHITMORE - PRIVATE DNA FILES.
