PART 6 — The Shadow in the Harbor
My heart pounded against my ribs like a trapped bird. I showed the phone to Lucas. His face turned deathly pale when he read his sister's name.
"I'm coming with you," Lucas said immediately. He grabbed his coat pocket.
"No!" I said firmly. "It explicitly says I must come alone. If they see you're with me, they'll harm Sophie. You drive straight to Sophie's apartment right now. Make sure she is safe, lock the doors, and open for no one. Understood?"
"But Mom, it's a trap!"
"It doesn't matter what it is. I won't put Sophie in danger." I grabbed my bag, looked my son in the eye, and said, "If you haven't heard from me by six in the morning, call the police and give them the documents from the study. Promise me."
Lucas hesitated, but finally nodded with tears in his eyes. "Promised. Please be careful, Mom."
Fifteen minutes later, I drove through the industrial estate near the old harbor. Fog hung low over the water, and the streetlights cast a grim, yellow glow over the abandoned warehouses. The address in the message led to a dilapidated shipyard that had been disused for years.
I parked my car a street away, turned off the engine, and stepped into the cold night air. My feet made a soft squelching sound on the wet asphalt. In my right pocket, I gripped a heavy metal pocketknife I had taken from Lucas's car. It offered little comfort, but it was something.
The door to Warehouse 4 was slightly ajar. A faint glow of light spilled out. I slowly pushed the heavy iron door open. The hinge creaked loudly in the silence.
"Hello?" I called out. My voice echoed against the high steel beams of the roof.
There was no answer. Only the drip-drip-dripping of water from a leaking roof.
I stepped inside. The space was cluttered with rusted ship parts, old wooden crates, and stacked pallets. In the middle of the warehouse hung a single bare lightbulb on a cord. Beneath it sat a chair.
Someone was sitting in the chair.
I cautiously took a few steps closer, gripping the knife tightly. "Who's there?"
When I got close enough, I gasped for air.
Sitting in the chair was not my vanished brother Arthur. Nor was it Julian.
It was the woman with the white rose. Monique Laurent.
She was bound to the chair with the same thick, black cable ties Lucas had described at the accident scene. Her head hung forward, her dark hair falling over her face. Her clothes were torn, and there were bloodstains on her silk blouse.
"Monique?" I whispered, approaching in shock.
She slowly raised her head. Her left eye was swollen shut and bruised. When she saw me, the expression on her face changed from exhaustion to pure panic.
"Claire..." she rasped weakly. "No... you shouldn't have come... It's..."
"Who did this to you?" I dropped to my knees and began pulling at the cable ties around her wrists, but they were far too tight. "Where is Julian? Where is my brother?"
"Julian knows nothing..." Monique coughed. "He thought he was in charge... but he's just a pawn like you and me."
"Then who is doing this?" I asked desperately.
"Did you really think Daniel was the smart one between the two of us?" a heavy, rough voice suddenly echoed from the shadows behind the stacked crates.
I froze. I turned around slowly.
Out of the darkness stepped a tall man. He wore a dark raincoat. His head was bald, and a deep, white scar ran across his left cheek. The man Lucas had seen at the wreckage.
In his hand, he held a handgun with a silencer, aimed straight at my chest.
"Hello, sister," the man said with a grim smile.
My knees began to buckle. Despite the bald head, despite the scar that had disfigured his face... I recognized those eyes.
"Arthur?" I whispered, bewildered. "Are you alive?"
"Alive?" Arthur laughed, a cold, mirthless sound. "I've been living in hell for twenty years thanks to your dear husband! But now... now the Vance family is finally taking back what belongs to us."
He raised the weapon slightly higher, aiming directly at my forehead.
"And you, Claire, are the last item left on the inventory list."
