Chapter 3 - THE EMPTY APARTMENT
By the time we reached my apartment, Grandma was gone.
The front door stood open.
A lamp was broken.
One kitchen chair lay on its side.
But there was no blood.
No obvious sign of a struggle.
I ran room to room anyway.
“Grandma!”
Nothing.
Vincent entered behind me.
Luke checked the windows.
“She left quickly,” Luke said.
“How do you know?”
“Her coat is gone.”
I looked toward the hook beside the door.
He was right.
So was her purse.
Her shoes.
Her cane.
“Maybe she ran.”
Vincent examined the kitchen.
“She expected someone.”
I turned.
“What?”
He pointed toward the table.
Two cups of tea.
One empty.
One untouched.
My stomach tightened.
“She knew whoever came here.”
Luke found the building’s hallway camera.
Ten minutes later, we were watching footage.
At 8:13 p.m., an older man approached our door.
Gray coat.
Black gloves.
Grandma opened the door immediately.
No fear.
No hesitation.
She stepped into the hallway.
They spoke for thirty seconds.
Then she returned inside.
At 8:21, they left together.
“She went willingly,” I whispered.
Vincent leaned closer to the screen.
He froze.
“What?”
His face hardened.
“I know him.”
“Who is he?”
“Charles Mercer.”
Luke swore.
I looked between them.
“Who is Charles Mercer?”
Vincent’s voice became cold.
“My father’s former attorney.”
“The man who killed him?”
“I don’t know.”
“Grandma knew.”
“Yes.”
I grabbed my jacket.
“Then we find him.”
Vincent blocked the doorway.
“No.”
My temper snapped.
“You do not get to decide that.”
“Claire—”
“My grandmother disappeared after twenty-three years of hiding from your family, and you expect me to sit here?”
“I expect you to stay alive.”
“Power isn’t permission, remember?”
His jaw flexed.
Luke looked away to hide a reaction.
Vincent stepped closer.
Not touching me.
This time, he kept distance.
“I remember.”
His voice was quieter.
“That’s why I’m asking.”
I stared at him.
“Then ask better.”
Something shifted in his expression.
“Come with me.”
That surprised me.
“But you stay beside Luke. You don’t go anywhere alone.”
“I can agree to that.”
“Good.”
Luke’s phone rang.
He answered.
His face changed.
“Boss, Mercer’s car was found.”
“Where?”
“Near the river.”
“Eleanor?”
“No.”
My chest tightened.
Luke continued.
“But police found blood in the back seat.”
I felt the room tilt.
Vincent caught my elbow.
I jerked away instinctively.
His hand dropped immediately.
“Sorry.”
That one word stopped me.
Then Luke added:
“There’s something else.”
“What?” I asked.
“They found a photograph under the driver’s seat.”
Luke turned the phone toward us.
It showed Grandma standing beside Vincent’s father.
Between them was a child.
Me.
I stared at the image.
“I was never at Hayes Tower as a child.”
Vincent looked at me.
“Yes, you were.”
May you like
Then he whispered:
“And my father was holding you.”
