Chapter 4 - mara vale
The photograph had been taken less than an hour earlier.
Samuel identified the time stamp in the metadata.
Mara sat beneath a bare lightbulb.
Her wrists were bound.
There was a bruise near her temple.
A handwritten sign rested against her chest.
MIDNIGHT.
Owen saw the image before Eleanor could hide the screen.
His face collapsed.
"Mara."
He reached for the phone.
Eleanor pulled it away.
"Who are they?"
"I don’t know."
"Think."
"I don’t know."
"Did Mara ever mention Daniel?"
Owen shook his head violently.
"Did she mention me?"
"Sometimes."
"What did she say?"
"That you loved me."
Eleanor’s throat tightened.
"What else?"
"That you didn’t know."
Noah looked between them.
"Know what?"
Owen swallowed.
"That I was alive."
Eleanor sat beside him.
"Why didn’t Mara bring you to me?"
"She said she couldn’t."
"Why?"
"Because bad people would find us."
"What bad people?"
Owen’s eyes filled with tears.
"She never told me."
Samuel interrupted.
"Eleanor, you should call the police."
Owen immediately grabbed her sleeve.
"No."
"We have to."
"Mara said never police."
Samuel frowned.
"Why?"
"She said some of them work for the people looking for us."
Eleanor thought of Daniel.
The Whitmore family donated millions to political campaigns.
Daniel knew police commissioners, judges, prosecutors, senators.
If he was involved, a normal police report could reach him within minutes.
Still, she could not ignore a kidnapped woman.
"We’ll contact someone outside the city."
Samuel nodded.
"I know a retired federal investigator."
But before he could call, Eleanor’s phone rang.
Unknown number.
She answered.
A distorted voice said, "Midnight means midnight."
Eleanor’s heart raced.
"Who are you?"
"You have the child."
"He is my son."
"You have no idea what he is."
Eleanor looked at the boys.
"He’s seven."
The voice continued.
"Bring him to Pier Seventeen at eleven forty-five. Come alone."
"You have Mara?"
A faint sound came through the line.
Someone crying.
Then Mara’s voice.
"Eleanor, don’t."
The call cut off.
Owen began shaking.
Eleanor pulled him close.
Samuel said, "You’re not going."
"Yes, I am."
"No."
"They have a woman because of my son."
"They may kill you."
"I’m not bringing Owen."
"Then they’ll know immediately."
"I know."
Samuel stared at her.
"What are you planning?"
Eleanor did not answer.
She was remembering something Daniel once told her during a charity event.
Never negotiate from fear.
Make the other side reveal what they want before you give them anything.
For years Eleanor had believed Daniel was the strongest person in their marriage.
Now she wondered how much of that strength came from knowing she would never challenge him.
At ten thirty, Samuel drove the boys to his sister’s house in Westchester.
Eleanor changed clothes.
She left her phone behind and purchased a prepaid phone with cash.
Then she drove Daniel’s old Range Rover toward the East River.
She arrived at Pier Seventeen at eleven forty-one.
Wind whipped off the water.
The public areas were nearly empty.
A man wearing a dark cap approached.
"Mrs. Whitmore?"
"Where is Mara?"
"Where is the boy?"
"Safe."
The man smiled without humor.
"Then this is going to be a short conversation."
"Tell your employer I want to speak directly."
"You don’t get to make demands."
"I do if the boy is what you think he is."
The man’s expression changed.
Eleanor noticed.
She had guessed correctly.
Owen was important for a reason beyond being Daniel’s missing son.
"What do you think he is?" the man asked.
"You tell me."
He stepped closer.
"Where is the locket?"
Eleanor’s pulse quickened.
Not the boy.
The locket.
"I have it."
That was a lie.
Owen still wore it.
The man grabbed Eleanor’s arm.
She drove her knee into his stomach and pulled away.
He cursed.
Two more figures emerged from the darkness.
Eleanor ran.
A car horn exploded behind them.
Headlights washed over the pier.
A black sedan skidded to a stop.
The passenger door opened.
Samuel shouted, "Get in!"
Eleanor jumped inside.
The sedan accelerated.
One of the men threw something against the rear window.
Glass cracked.
Samuel swerved onto South Street.
Eleanor gasped.
"You were supposed to be with the boys."
"They’re safe."
"How did you know?"
"I didn’t trust you to go alone."
The prepaid phone in Eleanor’s pocket rang.
Only one person had the number.
Samuel.
She pulled it out slowly.
Unknown caller.
Eleanor answered.
This time, the voice was not distorted.
It was a woman.
"You shouldn’t have lied about the locket."
Eleanor froze.
"Who is this?"
"Mara Vale."
Eleanor looked at Samuel.
The photograph.
The kidnapping.
The midnight exchange.
Something had been wrong from the beginning.
"Mara?"
"Listen carefully. The men at the pier are not the men who took me."
"Then who were they?"
"The people I’ve been hiding Owen from."
"Where are you?"
"Running out of time."
"What is happening?"
Mara took a shaky breath.
"The locket is not proof that Owen is your son."
"We already have DNA."
"I know."
"Then what is it?"
"It is proof of why he was taken."
The line crackled.
"Mara, explain."
"There is something behind the photograph."
May you like
"What?"
"A key."
