Chapter 5: "The Men Outside Weren't Federal Agents... And The Name They Shouted Made Marcus Realize Anna Had Been Protecting A Child All Along"
The first window exploded inward.
Glass sprayed across the living room floor.
The little girl upstairs screamed.
Marcus instinctively threw himself in front of Eleanor.
Another voice boomed from outside.
"Marcus Hale!"
"We know you're in there!"
"Bring us the journal!"
Marcus's blood ran cold.
They knew his name.
They knew about the journal.
This wasn't coincidence.
Someone had been watching him long before tonight.
Eleanor grabbed Marcus's arm with surprising strength.
"Listen to me."
"You have less than thirty seconds."
Marcus looked toward the shattered window.
Dark figures were already moving across the porch.
"Who are they?"
"They worked for Victor Lang."
Marcus frowned.
"Who's Victor Lang?"
Eleanor's face tightened.
"The man Anna spent the last four years trying to expose."
Marcus stared at her.
"My wife?"
"The woman who hated confrontation?"
Eleanor almost smiled.
"That's exactly why no one suspected her."
Another crash echoed through the house.
The front door shook violently under the force of a heavy boot.
Outside...
A man shouted again.
"Last warning!"
Marcus looked around desperately.
"There has to be another way out."
"There is."
Eleanor pointed toward the kitchen.
"Basement."
"Hidden tunnel."
Marcus blinked.
"A tunnel?"
"This house was built during Prohibition."
"The owners used it to smuggle people out."
The front door splintered.
Wood cracked.
Metal groaned.
They didn't have much time.
Eleanor thrust the leather journal into Marcus's hands.
"Whatever happens..."
"Don't let them take this."
Marcus looked down at the cover.
Anna's handwriting trembled beneath his fingertips.
He opened the first page.
Only one sentence filled the paper.
Marcus... if you're reading this, then I couldn't keep my promise anymore.
His vision blurred.
Below the sentence was another line.
Please forgive me for lying every Wednesday.
Marcus swallowed hard.
He turned the page.
Another handwritten note.
I never went to the library.
Another page.
I went to Saint Catherine Children's Hospital.
Another.
Because there was a little boy who had no one left in the world.
Marcus stopped breathing.
Daniel.
The little blond boy from the photographs.
His hands shook as he continued reading.
His mother died giving birth.
His father disappeared before he was born.
The hospital wanted to move him into state care.
But someone else wanted him first.
Marcus frowned.
Someone else?
He turned another page.
A newspaper clipping had been carefully taped inside.
The headline read:
LOCAL DEVELOPER DONATES $10 MILLION TO CHILDREN'S FOUNDATION
The smiling businessman in the photograph wore an expensive navy suit.
Marcus's stomach tightened.
The name beneath the photograph made his heart pound.
Victor Lang.
The same name Eleanor had just spoken.
Anna had circled Victor's face with a thick red pen.
Underneath she had written three words.
DON'T TRUST HIM.
Suddenly...
Marcus heard the basement door slam open.
Someone had entered the house.
Heavy boots echoed through the hallway.
"They're inside!"
the little girl cried from upstairs.
Eleanor grabbed Marcus's shoulder.
"Go!"
"What about you?"
"I'll slow them down."
"I'm not leaving you."
"You don't have a choice."
Marcus hesitated.
He had already lost one woman he loved.
He couldn't walk away again.
Before he could answer...
The front hallway filled with shouting.
"Clear every room!"
"Find the journal!"
"She's still here!"
Eleanor smiled sadly.
"Marcus..."
"For three years you've been mourning Anna."
"Tonight..."
"...it's time to finish what she started."
She pushed him toward the kitchen.
Marcus ran.
Behind him...
He heard the living-room door burst open.
Men shouted.
Furniture crashed.
Someone yelled,
"She's escaping!"
Eleanor answered with remarkable calm.
"No."
"I'm buying him time."
Marcus reached the basement.
The old wooden stairs creaked beneath his boots.
At the far end stood a rusted steel door.
Half hidden behind shelves.
Exactly where Eleanor had said.
He pulled.
Nothing.
Locked.
Then he remembered.
Anna.
She always carried a tiny brass key on her keychain.
A useless little key, she used to joke.
Marcus had kept every one of her belongings after the funeral.
Even the keys.
His eyes widened.
He reached into his jacket.
Earlier that evening, without thinking, he had slipped Anna's old keyring into his pocket after opening the cookie tin.
One tiny brass key remained attached.
He inserted it.
Click.
The steel door slowly opened.
Cold air rushed out.
A narrow tunnel stretched into darkness.
Just before Marcus stepped inside...
He heard gunshots upstairs.
One.
Then another.
Then complete silence.
Marcus closed his eyes.
"Eleanor..."
But he couldn't go back.
Not now.
He entered the tunnel.
After nearly five minutes of walking, the passage opened into an abandoned stone chapel deep in the woods.
Moonlight poured through broken stained-glass windows.
The place had clearly been abandoned for decades.
Or so it seemed.
Because in the center of the chapel...
Someone had lit a single candle.
And beneath it lay a sealed envelope.
Across the front, in Anna's unmistakable handwriting, were eight words that made Marcus's knees buckle.
Open this only if they kill Eleanor first.
Marcus's fingers trembled as he reached for the envelope.
Behind him...
A floorboard creaked.
He spun around.
Someone else had been waiting inside the chapel.
The stranger stepped out of the shadows.
Raised both hands slowly.
And said the one sentence Marcus never expected to hear.
May you like
"Your wife asked me to protect your son."
To Be Continued...
