Chapter 6 - THE LAWYER WHO BURIED A LIVING MAN
Harold Pierce had represented the Hale family for twenty-seven years.
He had handled Gabriel’s estate.
Charles Hale’s will.
Vincent’s trusts.
The crash settlement.
Every legal document created after Gabriel disappeared.
And now he was holding Sophie’s mother hostage.
Vincent replayed the last two seconds of the video.
The mirror reflection was brief.
But clear.
Harold.
Marcus saw it too.
“Pierce.”
Lydia stared.
“He was at dinner.”
“Until he wasn’t.”
Vincent looked toward the dining room.
The smoke had nearly cleared.
Several guests were regaining consciousness.
His private medical team was still trapped outside the locked floor.
Marcus contacted the building’s independent emergency channel.
This time it worked.
“Police are on the way.”
“How long?”
“Seven to ten minutes to reach the floor once lobby security lets them through.”
Vincent shook his head.
“That may be too long.”
Sophie was crying quietly.
Not loudly.
That hurt Vincent more.
“Mr. Hale.”
He crouched beside her.
“Call me Vincent.”
She swallowed.
“Are they going to hurt my mom?”
“No.”
“You don’t know that.”
Vincent paused.
She was right.
He refused to lie to her.
“I know they want something.”
“That gives us time.”
“What?”
“My dad’s watch?”
“Yes.”
“But they already have it.”
“They have the watch.”
“Maybe they don’t have what’s inside it.”
Sophie frowned.
Vincent looked at Marcus.
“Daniel’s lighthouse story.”
Marcus understood.
“The flame was hidden inside something everyone thought was broken.”
“The watch is broken.”
Lydia spoke.
“So the key is inside.”
Vincent looked at the screen again.
“If Harold knew how to open it, he wouldn’t need Sophie.”
Marcus nodded.
“Which means Daniel built a second layer.”
Sophie wiped her face.
“My dad used to fix watches with me.”
Vincent looked at her.
“What did he teach you?”
“He said you never force one.”
“You listen to it.”
Vincent almost asked what that meant.
Then Sophie took his hand.
“Take me.”
“No.”
“They want me.”
“Exactly.”
“They have Mom.”
“No.”
Her chin trembled.
“You said I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“You didn’t.”
“Then why does everyone keep getting hurt because of something Dad gave me?”
Vincent felt a familiar kind of guilt.
The kind rich men often tried to pay someone else to carry.
He knew better.
He looked Sophie directly in the eyes.
“Your father was trying to stop dangerous people.”
“They are hurting others because of their choices.”
“Not yours.”
“You are not walking into a room with them.”
“Not while I am standing.”
Marcus glanced at Vincent.
Police sirens were faintly audible far below.
Then the building shook.
A deep explosion sounded somewhere underground.
The lights failed again.
Emergency alarms began.
Lydia ran toward a service panel.
“That came from the basement.”
Vincent’s phone buzzed.
A message.
POLICE WILL FIND A FIRE.
YOU WILL FIND BODIES.
COME NOW.
Marcus cursed.
“They’re creating an evacuation.”
Lydia looked at him.
“If fire protocols override the floor locks, every door opens.”
Vincent realized the trap.
Everyone would be pushed into stairwells.
Crowds.
Confusion.
Perfect cover.
“Can you stop the evacuation?”
“No.”
The alarm changed.
AUTOMATED VOICE:
“Attention.”
“Fire detected on sublevel three.”
“Proceed to the nearest emergency exit.”
Locks clicked.
The main dining doors released.
Marcus’s radio exploded with voices.
Building security.
Police.
Fire department.
Everyone trying to enter.
Vincent looked at Sophie.
Then at the hidden passage.
The people below expected him to choose.
Police.
Or Gabriel and Hannah.
Vincent made his decision.
“Marcus.”
“You take Sophie upstairs.”
“No!”
Sophie grabbed him.
“My mom!”
Vincent knelt.
“I’m bringing her back.”
“You don’t know where she is.”
“You do.”
Sophie froze.
“What?”
“You recognized the room in the video.”
Her eyes widened.
Vincent had noticed it.
The way she reacted before seeing Hannah.
“You’ve been there.”
Sophie slowly nodded.
“They moved me through it.”
“Where?”
“Past the room with all the bottles.”
Lydia’s head snapped up.
“The old wine vault.”
“Sublevel two.”
Vincent stood.
Marcus shook his head.
“You’re not going alone.”
“They specifically want me alone.”
“And I specifically don’t care.”
Vincent almost smiled.
“Good.”
He looked at Sophie.
“Tell us everything you remember.”
“There was a red door.”
“Then stairs.”
“Then bottles.”
“Then a hallway with pictures of old men.”
Lydia said, “Founder gallery.”
“North cellar.”
Sophie continued.
“Then a clock.”
Vincent looked at her.
“A clock?”
“A big old one.”
“It didn’t work.”
Lydia’s face changed.
“There’s no clock in the north cellar.”
Vincent remembered Gabriel.
His brother collected antique clocks.
One had disappeared from the family estate after the crash.
A massive Vienna regulator their grandfather had given him.
Vincent looked at Lydia.
“Could it be behind a wall?”
She nodded slowly.
“If it marks another entrance.”
Vincent turned to Marcus.
“We go there.”
Marcus ordered his deputy to take Sophie upstairs.
Sophie refused to release Vincent’s hand.
“Please.”
“I can help.”
Vincent stared at her.
Then at the dangerous stairwell.
He hated the answer.
But he hated leaving her with people he no longer trusted even more.
She had survived because she remembered.
Because she watched.
Because adults underestimated her.
Vincent sighed.
“You stay between Marcus and me.”
“You do exactly what we say.”
“Okay.”
“No heroics.”
Sophie almost smiled through tears.
“Dad said that too.”
They entered the north service stairs.
Smoke drifted upward.
Sprinklers had activated below.
Lydia came with them.
Marcus objected.
She answered before Vincent could.
“I know the cellar better than you do.”
They descended one floor.
Then two.
The old Bellgrave wine vault looked untouched.
Brick arches.
Dusty bottles.
Locked cages.
Portraits of dead founders lined one wall.
Sophie pointed.
“There.”
At the far end stood an old clock.
Seven feet tall.
Dark walnut.
Stopped at 11:42.
Vincent stared.
Gabriel’s clock.
He approached.
The hands had not moved in fourteen years.
11:42.
The time Gabriel’s plane disappeared from radar.
Sophie touched the cracked glass.
“It opened before.”
“How?”
“The ring man moved the minute hand.”
Vincent carefully opened the clock face.
He turned the minute hand.
Eleven forty-three.
Click.
Nothing.
Eleven forty-four.
Nothing.
He remembered Gabriel’s birthday.
November 17.
He moved the hands to 11:17.
A deep lock released.
The entire clock shifted forward.
Behind it was a narrow corridor.
Marcus raised his weapon.
Vincent stepped inside.
The corridor descended.
At the end waited another steel door.
This one stood open.
Vincent heard voices.
Harold Pierce.
Victor Shaw.
And Evelyn Hale.
All three were arguing.
Vincent stopped.
Sophie stood behind him.
Then another voice joined them.
Weak.
Raspy.
But unmistakable.
Gabriel.
May you like
“You should have killed me fourteen years ago.”
A gunshot exploded from inside the room.
