Chapter 6 - THE SEARCH IN THE STORMThe autumn storm broke overhead with a sudden, violent crash of thunder as Julian and Lily hurried down the gravel path. Rain began to slash down in heavy, blinding sheets, plastering Lily’s hair to her forehead and soaking Julian’s tailored suit. But neither of them slowed down.
Behind them, a dozen newly summoned search personnel fanned out across the estate grounds with high-powered industrial flashlights, shouting Walter’s name into the roaring wind.
"He always liked the old greenhouse near the southern perimeter," Lily shouted over the roar of the thunder, shielding her eyes from the driving rain as she led the billionaire past the ornamental pond. "When we talked on Tuesday, he said something about missing the smell of damp soil and tomato vines. He said his father used to take him there when he was a little boy."
Julian’s stride faltered for a fraction of a second, his eyes widening in shock. "The old southern greenhouse? That place was condemned five years ago. The roof is partially collapsed. How could he possibly know the way down there?"
"People with memories like Walter's don't live in today, Mr. Vance," Lily yelled back, her small legs pumping as fast as they could through the gathering mud. "They live in the past. To him, that greenhouse probably looks brand-new!"
A terrifying bolt of lightning split the sky overhead, illuminating the sprawling southern edge of Willow Creek Estates in a blinding flash of white light. Looming ahead of them through the veil of rain was the skeletal, rusted frame of the old Victorian greenhouse, its glass panes shattered, its iron beams tangled with overgrown ivy.
Julian’s heart hammered against his ribs with the force of a sledgehammer. Father, please be in there.
They reached the rusted sliding door of the greenhouse. It was wedged half-open, jammed against a thick root of overgrown wisteria. Julian grabbed the cold iron handle with both hands, planting his shoes in the mud, and hauled back with every ounce of his considerable strength.
CRREEEAAK-SNAP!
The door gave way with a violent screech, tearing free from its rusted track. Julian stepped inside, sweeping his heavy-duty waterproof flashlight across the interior.
May you like
The beam cut through the swirling dust and driving rain leaking through the broken roof. Rows of rotting wooden benches stretched into the gloom. And there, huddled in the far corner beneath a leaking pane of glass, sat an old man in a soaked brown cardigan, shivering violently, his arms wrapped around his knees as he stared blankly at a patch of muddy weeds.
"Dad!" Julian choked out, the word tearing raw from his throat.
