Chapter 5 - SAINT CECILIA
I did not sleep that night.
Neither did Emily.
At 4:30 in the morning, I found her sitting at the kitchen table in one of my old sweatshirts with both hands wrapped around a cup of tea she had forgotten to drink.
The bruise around her eye had turned darker.
She looked twenty years older than she had the week before.
"You are not going alone," she said.
"Maria asked me to."
"She is terrified."
"That is why I am going alone."
"Dad."
I sat across from her.
"Beth will know where I am."
"Officer Monroe too."
"I will not lead anyone to Maria."
"But I will not disappear without telling anyone where I went."
Emily looked down.
"Ethan is watching the church."
"Probably."
"Then he will see you."
"Probably."
"You say that like it does not bother you."
"It bothers me."
I reached across the table.
"I just do not intend to let it control me."
At 6:15, Beth arrived with coffee and a legal pad.
She did not come inside.
We spoke on the porch where Emily could not hear every word.
"If Maria gives you documents, do not open them in your truck," Beth said.
"Why?"
"Because I do not know what they are, who owns them, or how Ethan will characterize you having them."
"What if she gives me the key?"
"Take the key if she voluntarily gives it to you."
"Then call me."
"Do not go exploring secret rooms."
"You make retirement sound boring."
She did not smile.
"Richard, Ethan is already trying to turn you into an angry old soldier who broke into his home to help an unstable daughter steal corporate data."
"I did not break into his home."
"Facts matter in court."
She pointed at me.
"Appearances matter before court."
I nodded.
"Understood."
At 6:52, I parked two blocks from Saint Cecilia.
The church sat on a quiet residential street beneath tall oaks dripping with spring rain.
The Easter banners still hung beside the entrance.
HE IS RISEN was printed in gold across white cloth.
I found myself thinking that the message felt almost sarcastic after the previous twenty-four hours.
I walked the last two blocks.
No black SUVs followed me.
No one stood across the street with a camera.
That made me more suspicious, not less.
The side door of the church was unlocked.
Inside, the air smelled of candle wax, old wood, and lilies.
The sanctuary was empty.
I sat in the last pew.
At exactly seven, a woman entered through the front doors.
Maria wore a gray coat and a baseball cap pulled low over her face.
She did not look at me.
She walked to the front, knelt for several seconds, then moved into the side aisle.
I waited.
She disappeared through a door near the sacristy.
My phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
The message contained two words.
COME NOW.
I went through the same door.
Maria stood in a narrow hallway beside a storage closet.
Her eyes were red.
She looked behind me before speaking.
"Did anyone follow you?"
"Not that I saw."
"That does not mean no one did."
"I know."
She pulled a brass key from inside her coat.
A small white tag hung from it.
There was no room number.
Only the initials M.A.
"This is the key?"
She nodded.
"To the room under the wine cellar?"
Maria closed her eyes.
"No."
I stared at her.
"Then why did you tell me Emily would know?"
"Because Mrs. Caldwell knows I clean the wine cellar."
"And?"
"Mr. Caldwell thinks that is what I meant too."
For the first time, I understood why she had insisted on a public place.
She had lied on purpose.
Not to me.
To anyone listening.
"What does the key open?"
"A bank box."
I looked at the tag again.
"Yours?"
"Yes."
"What is inside?"
Maria's hands shook.
"Copies."
"Of what?"
"Everything I could save."
She looked toward the sanctuary.
"Mrs. Caldwell was not the first person he hurt."
The hallway seemed to narrow around us.
"Who else?"
"People who worked for him."
"Women?"
"Mostly."
"Did you see him hit them?"
"No."
She shook her head.
"But I saw what happened after."
"Tell me."
Maria took a breath.
"There was an assistant named Claire."
"She quit two years ago."
"Mr. Caldwell told everyone she stole confidential files."
"Did she?"
"I found blood in the upstairs bathroom after she left."
My jaw tightened.
"Then there was Rebecca from investor relations."
"She came to the house once at night."
"She was crying."
"Mr. Caldwell made Owen take her phone before she left."
"And last year a contractor found one of the hidden cameras."
"He was fired the next morning."
I stared at Maria.
"How many cameras?"
"More than Mrs. Caldwell knows."
"Where?"
"Bedrooms."
"Bathrooms."
"The staff changing room."
I felt sick.
"You copied footage?"
"Some."
"How?"
"I did not."
She looked at me.
"My son did."
"Diego?"
"He works for Mr. Caldwell because I asked him to."
"You asked your son to work there?"
"At first I thought it was a good job."
Her voice cracked.
"Later I needed someone who understood computers."
"Does Ethan know Diego helped you?"
"I do not know."
"That is why you are scared."
She nodded.
"Yesterday, after police came, Owen took Diego into a conference room for almost an hour."
"Did Diego call you?"
"He sent one message."
"What did it say?"
Maria looked at me.
"Mom, do not go home."
I exhaled slowly.
"Where is he now?"
"I cannot reach him."
"Have you reported him missing?"
"He is thirty years old."
"That was not my question."
She wiped her eyes.
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because Mr. Caldwell knows police officers."
"Knowing police officers does not mean he controls the department."
"I know what I heard."
"What did you hear?"
Maria glanced toward the door again.
"One night Mr. Caldwell was angry because Mrs. Caldwell had called her doctor without telling him."
"He told Owen to pull the call logs."
"Owen said he could not get them without a warrant."
"Mr. Caldwell said, 'Then call our friend downtown.'"
"Did he name anyone?"
"No."
I thought of Monroe's warning.
Keep your doors locked.
"Maria, the bank box."
"Which bank?"
"First Cumberland."
"Downtown branch."
"Whose name is on it?"
"Mine."
"Then you should retrieve it yourself."
She shook her head violently.
"I cannot."
"Why?"
"Because the bank called yesterday."
"They said someone tried to access it."
I looked at the key in my hand.
"Did they say who?"
"No."
"Then we go with police."
"No."
"With an attorney."
"Maybe."
I heard footsteps in the sanctuary.
Maria froze.
A door closed somewhere beyond us.
She grabbed my sleeve.
"You have to leave."
"Maria -"
"Take the key."
She pushed it into my palm.
"If Diego calls you, tell him I am sorry."
"I am not leaving you here alone."
"I am not alone."
"Who is with you?"
She did not answer.
The footsteps came closer.
A priest appeared at the end of the hall carrying a stack of hymnals.
Maria sagged with relief.
He looked at us curiously.
"Everything all right?"
"Yes, Father," Maria said quickly.
Then she turned to me.
"Go."
I left through a side entrance.
Halfway down the block, my phone rang.
Beth.
"Tell me you did not enter a secret basement."
"I am beginning to resent how well you know me."
"Richard."
"The key is to a safe-deposit box."
She went silent.
"Whose?"
"Maria's."
"And you have the key?"
"Yes."
"Do not go to the bank."
"I was not planning to."
"That is the first good thing you have said this morning."
I reached my truck.
A white sedan was parked across the street.
No one sat inside.
I got into my truck and locked the doors.
"Beth, I need you to contact Officer Monroe."
"Why?"
"Maria's son may be missing."
I told her what Maria had said.
Beth's voice changed.
"Come straight to my office."
"I need to check on Emily first."
"Your house has cameras."
"Yes."
"Check remotely."
I opened the security app.
The front porch was empty.
The driveway was empty.
The living room camera showed Emily sitting on the couch with a blanket over her legs.
Then the image froze.
The screen went black.
CONNECTION LOST appeared in red letters.
My chest tightened.
"Beth."
"What?"
"My cameras just went down."
I started the truck.
"Call 911," she said.
I was already dialing.
I reached my house in nine minutes.
Two patrol cars were there before me.
The front door stood open.
I was out of the truck before it stopped rolling.
An officer blocked me at the porch.
"Sir, wait."
"My daughter is inside."
"She is safe."
The words nearly dropped me.
"Where is she?"
Emily appeared behind him.
Her face was pale.
"Dad."
I moved past the officer and held her shoulders.
"Are you hurt?"
"No."
"What happened?"
She looked toward the kitchen.
"Someone came in through the back door."
"You saw them?"
"No."
"What did they take?"
She swallowed.
"Nothing."
I looked at the officers.
"Nothing?"
Emily shook her head.
"They did not steal anything."
"Then why break in?"
She led me into the kitchen.
The drawers were open.
Cabinet doors hung wide.
My old wooden cabinet in the hallway had been forced open.
The field bag was dumped on the floor.
The leather folder was gone.
So was my old military notebook.
Emily stood beside me.
"Dad, what was in that notebook?"
I stared at the empty shelf.
Names.
Dates.
Places.
One investigation from seventeen years ago that I had spent half my life trying not to remember.
May you like
"Something Ethan thinks he can use."
