Chapter 10 - The Chapel Ledger
The attackers searched the road above them.
Maren could hear branches breaking and voices calling to one another.
Callum switched off the car lights.
“We leave on foot.”
“Blackwood House is miles away,” Helena whispered.
“So is the estate.”
Elias checked his phone.
“No signal.”
Callum opened the glove compartment and removed a flashlight, a first-aid kit, and a compact emergency radio.
The radio picked up only static.
Maren touched the blue crayon message.
“Grandpa is not alone. Owen wrote this.”
“Maybe he saw someone with Edmund,” Callum said.
“Or someone told him to write it.”
Elias examined the tracker.
“This isn’t police equipment.”
“Bellweather security?” Maren asked.
“Older. Patricia used these when she wanted to monitor employees without logging the devices in company systems.”
Callum stared at him.
“How do you know?”
“She put one in my car five years ago.”
Voices moved closer.
They climbed from the vehicle and followed a drainage channel downhill.
Maren’s wedding shoes sank into the mud. After several minutes, she removed them and walked barefoot, carrying them by their straps.
The white hem of her dress tore against thorns.
Callum offered her his jacket.
She refused.
Owen was somewhere ahead, frightened and waiting.
She would not protect a dress while he waited.
The drainage channel reached an abandoned ranger station.
Inside, they found an old landline.
Callum lifted the receiver.
A dial tone sounded.
He called the police first, reporting the attack and Owen’s location.
Then he called Bellweather House.
Mrs. Alvarez answered.
“Mr. Callum, thank God.”
“Is the chapel secure?”
“I believe so.”
“Go there. Under the altar or behind it, there may be a black ledger.”
Mrs. Alvarez lowered her voice.
“I saw Mr. Edmund enter the chapel this morning.”
“Was he carrying anything?”
“A metal case.”
Callum looked at Maren.
“The ledger may no longer be there.”
“Check.”
They heard Mrs. Alvarez moving through the estate.
A door opened.
Her footsteps echoed.
Then she stopped.
“Mr. Callum.”
“What?”
“Someone has destroyed the chapel.”
Maren closed her eyes.
“What do you mean?” Callum asked.
“The altar is broken. The floorboards have been lifted.”
“Is anyone there?”
“No.”
“Look for a black ledger.”
Minutes passed.
The voices of the attackers moved farther away outside the ranger station.
At last, Mrs. Alvarez returned to the phone.
“I found a page.”
“One page?”
“It was beneath the prayer stand. It has names and numbers.”
“Read the names.”
Paper rustled.
“Adrian Bellweather. Helena Ward. Jonathan Bellweather. Victor Sloane.”
She paused.
“And Patricia Bellweather.”
“What numbers?”
“Dates, perhaps. There is a heading.”
“What does it say?”
“The Blackwood Witness List.”
Helena gripped the table.
“Witnesses to what?”
Mrs. Alvarez continued.
“There is writing at the bottom. It says, Original recording stored in Vault Chamber Three.”
Callum looked at Helena.
“Recording of what?”
“The night Adrian disappeared,” she said.
A floorboard creaked behind them.
Callum turned.
Victor Sloane stood in the doorway holding a handgun.
He was in his late sixties, with a heavy face and close-cropped gray hair. Rain darkened the shoulders of his coat.
“Put down the phone.”
Callum did not move.
Victor aimed at Maren.
“Now.”
Callum lowered the receiver.
Mrs. Alvarez’s distant voice continued asking what had happened until Victor pulled the line from the wall.
Elias stepped in front of Helena.
“Where is Owen?”
“Safe for the moment.”
“Who hired you?”
Victor smiled.
“You still believe Patricia controls this.”
Maren remembered Owen’s message.
Grandpa is not alone.
“Edmund hired you,” she said.
Victor’s smile faded.
Callum stared at her.
Victor gestured with the gun.
“Outside.”
They obeyed.
A dark vehicle waited beyond the ranger station.
As Victor forced them toward it, Maren saw a familiar shape in the back seat.
A child’s small hand pressed against the window.
“Owen!”
He struck the glass.
“Mom!”
Maren ran.
Victor caught her dress and dragged her backward.
The car began moving.
Owen’s face disappeared behind rain and trees.
Maren fought against Victor’s grip.
“Where are they taking him?”
May you like
Victor leaned close enough that she could smell coffee on his breath.
“To the wedding.”
