Chapter 6 - The Crash With No Bodies
Authorities sealed the crash site before noon. News helicopters circled a blackened field where fragments of aircraft lay scattered across snow. Carter Meridian confirmed that Lucas was presumed dead, then issued a second statement naming Eleanor Carter interim chair and requesting privacy for the family.
Anne watched the coverage from a safe apartment Daniel maintained above an old printing shop. The official story hardened by the hour. The private jet had suffered catastrophic mechanical failure. Passenger records placed Lucas, Melanie, Gideon, and Eleanor aboard. Fire made identification difficult.
Yet Lucas had appeared live in court after the reported time of the crash.
“He could have prerecorded the hearing feed,” Evelyn said.
“No,” Anne replied. “He reacted when I stood. I saw it.”
Daniel agreed. “The connection metadata routes through Switzerland, but the transmission itself could have originated anywhere.”
Anne replayed Melanie’s video. The file contained no metadata, but the background offered clues: a low mechanical hum, water dripping, a faint bell every thirty seconds. On the wall behind Melanie was a strip of yellow paint.
Evelyn searched industrial facilities owned by Carter Meridian. “There are eighteen possibilities within two hundred miles.”
Anne enlarged a reflection in Melanie’s eye. A rectangular light, perhaps from a vehicle. “She may be underground.”
Daniel received a call from Judge Ward’s clerk. The trust transfer to Eleanor remained active pending forensic review. If Eleanor was legally dead, successor authority would pass according to a sealed schedule.
“Who is next?” Anne asked.
“The court cannot open the schedule without proof of death or trustee incapacity.”
“So the crash creates uncertainty long enough for someone to move the money.”
“Exactly.”
Evelyn accessed an old monitoring account Thomas had created. A transaction alert appeared from Aurora Reserve: nine hundred million dollars queued for transfer to a bank in Liechtenstein. Authorization required two biometric confirmations within twenty-four hours.
“One is Eleanor,” Daniel said.
“And the other?”
“Unknown.”
Anne looked at the hospital bracelet. “Me or Melanie.”
They needed to find both women before the deadline.
Anne called the anonymous number that had sent the first photograph. It rang once, then connected to silence.
“You wanted me to see the hangar,” she said. “You wanted me alive. Tell me where Melanie is.”
A distorted voice answered. “You have already been told.”
“The yellow wall? The bell?”
“The goodbye was the map.”
The call ended.
Anne returned mentally to the airport. Lucas’s coat, his words, the way he held her outside the terminal. Wait for me. I’ll be back before you know it. He had placed something in her handbag during the embrace. The bag had now been returned.
She emptied it onto the table. Wallet, keys, makeup, tissues, the passport copy she carried for emergencies. Sewn into the inner lining was a narrow strip of fabric she had never noticed.
Daniel cut the stitches carefully. Inside lay a brass luggage tag engraved with coordinates.
The coordinates led to a decommissioned rail tunnel beneath a Carter Meridian distribution center north of Denver. The facility had once moved luxury cars by train. Yellow safety paint lined the underground loading bays, and an old signal bell sounded at regular intervals.
“The goodbye was the map,” Anne said. “Lucas put this in my bag.”
Evelyn studied her. “Why would he lead you to Melanie?”
“Because he knew they might take him too.”
Daniel shook his head. “Or because the tag is bait.”
Thomas’s warning again: the person who tells you almost the whole truth.
They contacted a federal agent Daniel trusted, Special Agent Naomi Price, but she could not authorize a raid based on an anonymous video and coordinates hidden in a handbag. She agreed to meet near the facility with two agents off record.
At dusk, Anne rode with Evelyn in a delivery van while Daniel followed with Naomi. Snow began to fall, softening the industrial landscape. The distribution center appeared abandoned, its upper windows dark.
A freight door on the east side stood open.
Inside, tire tracks crossed the dust.
Anne and Evelyn descended a concrete ramp into the underground loading area. Yellow lines marked the walls. The bell rang once, exactly as in Melanie’s video.
They found the room behind a steel door.
A chair stood beneath a hanging light. Blood stained one armrest. Zip ties lay cut on the floor. Melanie was gone.
On the wall, written in black marker, were five words.
ANNE IS NOT THE FIRST DAUGHTER.
Daniel entered behind them. “What does that mean?”
Evelyn examined the blood. “It’s fresh.”
A low engine sound came from deeper in the tunnel.
Anne followed it before anyone could stop her. The tunnel opened into a second loading bay where a black SUV idled beside an underground rail platform.
Lucas stood at the open rear door.
He looked exhausted, his white shirt stained with blood, one wrist handcuffed to the vehicle. A man held a gun against his ribs.
“Anne,” Lucas said, relief and dread crossing his face together. “You came.”
The gunman pushed him into the SUV.
Anne stepped forward.
“Where is Melanie?”
Lucas looked directly at her.
May you like
“She was never your sister.”
The SUV accelerated into the tunnel.
