Chapter 10 - THURSDAY NEVER ENDS
By sunrise, police surrounded St. Bartholomew's Church.
Claire told them the tunnel collapse had been an accident.
Vincent's lawyers arrived before anyone asked the second question.
Marcus disappeared before the first patrol car reached the cemetery.
Eleanor's body was never found.
Neither was Daniel's.
Renley sat inside an ambulance wrapped in a gray blanket.
The red box rested beneath Vincent's coat across the street.
Half its contents were gone.
The rest could destroy families, businesses, politicians, police officers, and men whose names Renley had never heard.
But Renley did not care.
She wanted one answer.
“Daniel is my father.”
Claire sat beside her.
Rainwater still dripped from her hair.
“Yes.”
Renley stared ahead.
“You told me my father died before I was born.”
“I thought Daniel was dead.”
“Then you found out.”
Claire said nothing.
“When?”
“Three years ago.”
Renley turned slowly.
“Three years?”
“I couldn't risk contacting him.”
“But Walter could?”
Claire's eyes filled.
“Walter made choices I didn't agree with.”
“He told me more truth than you did.”
That hurt.
Renley could see it.
She didn't take it back.
Across the street, Vincent stood alone beneath the church awning.
For the first time since Renley met him, no guards surrounded him.
Just a tired man staring at the entrance to a flooded tunnel where his brother might have died.
Renley walked toward him.
Claire tried to stop her.
Renley pulled away.
Vincent looked down when she approached.
“So you're my uncle.”
His mouth tightened.
“Apparently.”
“You don't sound happy.”
“I've had better mornings.”
Renley almost smiled.
Almost.
“Is Daniel alive?”
“I don't know.”
“Do you want him to be?”
Vincent looked toward the tunnel.
“I don't know that either.”
Renley understood more than she wanted to.
She reached into her coat.
Something pressed against her fingers.
The silver necklace from the red box.
She had grabbed it without realizing.
A small circular pendant hung from the chain.
The same symbol Eleanor had drawn.
Circle.
Three lines.
Vincent saw it.
His face changed.
“Where did you get that?”
“In the box.”
“Give it to me.”
“No.”
“Renley.”
She stepped back.
“What is it?”
Vincent stared.
“My father wore one.”
“Your father?”
“And Daniel's.”
Renley looked down.
A tiny seam ran around the pendant.
She twisted it.
It opened.
Inside was a miniature photograph.
Three boys.
Vincent.
Daniel.
And another boy.
Renley looked closer.
“Who's that?”
Vincent took the pendant.
His entire body went still.
“No.”
“What?”
“No.”
“Who is he?”
Vincent stared at the third boy.
“My oldest brother.”
Renley frowned.
“You have another brother?”
“Had.”
“What happened to him?”
Vincent looked at her.
“He died when we were children.”
Renley almost laughed.
“People in your family die a lot and then turn out not to be dead.”
Vincent did not smile.
He flipped the photograph over.
Tiny writing covered the back.
D.C.
V.C.
S.C.
Three initials.
Daniel Calder.
Vincent Calder.
S—
Vincent whispered:
“Samuel.”
Claire had approached behind them.
When she heard the name, she stopped.
The blanket fell from her shoulders.
Vincent saw her reaction.
“You knew.”
Claire shook her head.
“No.”
“You knew Samuel?”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“I said no.”
But Renley recognized the look.
It was the same look her mother had worn in the tunnel.
The look she wore immediately before the truth.
Renley's phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
She looked at the screen.
A photograph loaded.
Her bicycle.
Parked outside the community kitchen.
Taken only seconds ago.
Below it was a message.
THURSDAY DELIVERY.
NEW ADDRESS.
Renley's blood went cold.
Vincent read over her shoulder.
“Don't answer.”
Another message appeared.
Walter always said you were the smart one.
Then another.
ASK YOUR MOTHER WHO SAMUEL CALDER REALLY WAS.
Renley looked up.
Claire was already backing away.
“Mom?”
Claire's face had gone completely white.
The phone rang.
Unknown number.
Vincent reached for it.
Renley stepped away.
“Don't.”
“Renley, whoever this is—”
“I know.”
The ringing continued.
Police moved around them.
Paramedics.
Detectives.
Reporters gathering beyond the barricade.
Morning traffic starting three blocks away.
Normal life returning while Renley's old life disappeared forever.
She answered.
No one spoke.
Then came a sound.
A spoon tapping against ceramic.
Four times.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Renley's heart stopped.
Walter used to do that before every Thursday meal.
She whispered:
“Walter?”
Vincent stared at her.
Claire covered her mouth.
The caller breathed softly.
Then a man's voice answered.
Not Walter's.
“Close.”
Renley gripped the phone.
“Who are you?”
The man laughed.
A warm, familiar laugh she couldn't place.
Then he said:
“Before Walter Pike died, he made one final delivery.”
Renley looked at the mansion address still crumpled inside her pocket.
Blue ink.
Wrong address.
A delivery designed to bring her to Vincent.
She suddenly understood.
Walter's death hadn't started this.
Walter's death had been the signal.
The man on the phone continued:
“And Renley?”
“Yes?”
“Your next delivery is to me.”
The call ended.
A message appeared.
An address.
Claire saw it.
She screamed:
“No!”
Vincent grabbed the phone.
Renley stared at her mother.
“Who lives there?”
Claire said nothing.
Renley shouted:
“WHO?”
Claire's lips trembled.
Finally, she whispered:
“Samuel Calder.”
Vincent shook his head.
“Samuel is dead.”
Claire looked at him.
Tears filled her eyes.
“No, Vincent.”
She stared at the address.
“Samuel Calder is the man who ordered the massacre.”
Renley's phone buzzed one final time.
A photograph appeared.
A man sitting beside a window.
A bowl of soup in front of him.
Behind him stood Daniel.
Alive.
And tied to a chair beside Daniel was Eleanor.
Under the photograph were seven words.
BRING THE GIRL.
THURSDAY.
COME BEFORE THE SOUP GETS COLD.
Renley stared at the screen.
Then, somewhere across the city, a church bell rang.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
And Vincent Calder whispered the one sentence Renley never wanted to hear.
“Walter wasn't trying to protect you from our family.”
May you like
He looked at her.
“He was preparing you to take it over.”
