Chapter 10: The Baby in the River
Marcus kept his eyes on the road, but his attention was fixed on the man sitting beside him.
"Explain what you just said.""
Tank stared through the windshield. Snow swept across the headlights, turning the country road into a tunnel of white.
"Marcus, we need to get Daniel out first.""
"No.""
Tank turned toward him.
"Arthur has a gun, a hostage, and enough dirt on half the county to make us all disappear. We don't have time for this.""
"You just told me my daughter wasn't the only child. You have thirty seconds to explain what that means.""
In the back seat, Raymond shifted uneasily.
Tank swallowed.
"Seventeen years ago, after the crash, I went looking for you. I found Elaine at the hospital. She was terrified. She told me Michael had been killed, and she believed Arthur was coming for you.""
Marcus's hands tightened around the steering wheel.
"I know that part.""
"No, you don't. Elaine wasn't just afraid for you. She was afraid for a little girl.""
Marcus's heart began pounding.
"My daughter?""
Tank nodded.
"Your wife was pregnant when she died in that house fire.""
Marcus slammed his foot on the brake.
The truck skidded sideways across the snowy road.
Raymond grabbed the dashboard.
"Marcus!""
The vehicle stopped inches from a ditch.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Marcus stared at Tank.
"My wife was not pregnant.""
Tank looked devastated.
"She was. Elaine told me herself.""
Marcus shook his head.
"No. I was there when Sarah died. I saw the fire. The doctors said—"
"The doctors who signed the report worked for Arthur.""
Marcus felt as if someone had reached inside his chest and torn something loose.
He remembered the night Sarah died.
The smoke. The sirens. The firefighters dragging him away from the house. The hospital corridor where a doctor told him that his wife had died before the ambulance arrived.
He remembered asking about the baby.
He remembered the doctor shaking his head.
No baby had survived.
That was what he had been told.
"Where is she?"" Marcus whispered.
Tank's eyes filled with tears.
"I don't know.""
Marcus struck the steering wheel with the heel of his hand.
"You expect me to believe my daughter survived, and nobody told me?""
"I expect you to understand that Arthur controlled the records, the doctors, and the people who were supposed to protect you.""
"Then why didn't you tell me?""
"Because I didn't know for certain until recently.""
Marcus turned toward him.
"Recently?""
Tank reached inside his coat and removed a small photograph.
It showed a newborn baby wrapped in a hospital blanket. A handwritten bracelet around the infant's wrist bore a date and a name.
*Baby Williams. Female.*
On the back, someone had written:
*Transferred to protective custody. November 2009.*
Marcus stared at the photograph until the words blurred.
"Where did you get this?""
"From Elaine's papers. She kept a copy because she believed Arthur had arranged the transfer.""
"Protective custody with whom?""
Tank shook his head.
"That was the part she couldn't find.""
Marcus took the photograph.
The baby had a tiny crease above her left eyebrow.
Sarah had the same crease.
Marcus had traced it with his thumb during their first ultrasound, laughing because he thought their daughter already looked stubborn.
He pressed the photograph against his chest.
Raymond spoke quietly from the back seat.
"Boss, we need to move.""
Marcus closed his eyes.
For twelve years, he had mourned his wife and daughter together.
Now someone had given him a reason to believe his daughter might still be alive.
He wanted to turn around, drive straight to the hospital, and tear apart every record until he found her name.
But Daniel Bennett was tied to a chair somewhere in a farmhouse, and two frightened children were waiting for their father.
Marcus started the truck.
"Tell me everything when we get Daniel out.""
Tank nodded.
They drove on.
The farmhouse appeared through the snow at 11:58 p.m.
Its red front door was illuminated by two yellow security lights. A barn stood behind it, half hidden by bare trees. Several vehicles were parked beside a shed, including a black SUV with a shattered rear window.
Raymond leaned forward.
"Two men by the front door. One on the porch, one near the barn.""
Marcus slowed the truck.
"Any sign of Daniel?""
Tank pointed toward an upstairs window.
"That room.""
A shadow moved behind the curtain.
Marcus pulled into the tree line and killed the headlights.
"We go through the tunnel.""
Tank shook his head.
"Arthur will expect me to use it.""
"Then we'll surprise him.""
Raymond checked his weapon.
"How many men do you think he's got?""
"At least six," Tank answered.
"Possibly more.""
"Wonderful.""
Marcus took the key from his pocket.
Before they left the truck, he looked at Tank.
"One more thing.""
Tank met his eyes.
"If my daughter is alive, I'm finding her.""
"I know.""
"And if you kept anything else from me—"
"I didn't.""
Marcus studied his face.
Then he opened the door.
They crossed the frozen yard, keeping low behind a row of abandoned farm equipment. The barn's rear entrance was secured with a chain, but the key opened a narrow side door hidden beneath a broken wooden staircase.
Inside, the air smelled of hay, rust, and gasoline.
Tank led them to a trapdoor beneath a pile of old feed sacks.
The tunnel beyond was barely wide enough for a man to crawl through.
They moved slowly, listening to footsteps above.
At the end of the tunnel, a ladder led to another wooden hatch.
Marcus lifted it an inch.
Voices drifted down from the room above.
"...should have killed him years ago," a man said.
Another voice answered.
"Arthur wants him alive until the ledger is recovered.""
Marcus recognized the second voice.
He had heard it at the cemetery.
The attacker from the clubhouse.
Raymond looked at him questioningly.
Marcus nodded toward the hatch.
They climbed out into a storage room.
Through a narrow gap in the door, Marcus saw Daniel Bennett tied to a chair beneath a hanging lamp.
Daniel's face was swollen. Blood stained his shirt.
Standing before him was a tall man wearing a black leather vest.
A silver ring gleamed on his right hand.
Arthur Mercer.
The founder of the Iron Kings.
The man who should have been dead for thirty-four years.
Arthur placed a glass of water on the table.
"Where's the ledger, Daniel?""
Daniel spat blood onto the floor.
"Go to hell.""
Arthur sighed and picked up the glass again.
"Your mother used to say the same thing.""
He tipped the water onto Daniel's lap.
Daniel flinched.
Arthur leaned close.
"Do you know what happened to her?""
Daniel's eyes burned with hatred.
"You murdered her.""
"No. I gave her a choice.""
"You gave her a grave.""
Arthur's expression hardened.
He slapped Daniel across the face.
Marcus's fingers tightened around his weapon.
Tank caught his wrist.
"Wait," he mouthed.
Arthur turned toward the door.
"Bring the children in.""
Marcus froze.
A man entered carrying a small backpack.
Lila's backpack.
Arthur opened it and removed the plastic container of mashed potatoes.
He examined it with amusement.
"How touching.""
He placed it on the table beside Daniel.
"Your daughter saved you dinner.""
Daniel's face changed.
"Where are my children?""
Arthur smiled.
"Safe. For now.""
Marcus glanced at Raymond.
They had minutes, perhaps seconds, before the situation became irreversible.
Then Arthur looked toward the storage-room door.
"I know you're here, Marcus.""
Silence swallowed the farmhouse.
Arthur adjusted his silver ring.
"You've always been predictable.""
He stepped away from Daniel and faced the door.
"Come out, son.""
Marcus felt Tank's hand close around his shoulder.
May you like
Arthur smiled.
"Let's finally discuss your family.""
