Chapter 9 - The Return to Warehouse Seven
Warehouse Seven had never been rebuilt.
August had bought the ruined property after his father's death and refused every offer to demolish it.
People assumed it was sentiment.
It wasn't.
It was punishment.
For ten years, August drove past the burned shell every December 14 and sat inside his car until sunrise.
He never entered.
Tonight he did.
Rain fell over Baltimore docks just as it had the night Daniel disappeared.
Ruth sat beside him in the SUV.
Poppy was not there.
August had placed her in a secure house with Walter and twelve armed guards.
Vincent didn't know.
At least that was the plan.
Ruth wore a bulletproof vest beneath her coat.
August hated it.
He hated more that she had insisted on coming.
"You remain in the car."
"No."
"Ruth."
"We've covered this."
"You have no training."
"I have motherhood."
"Those are not interchangeable."
"You've never taken a screaming six-year-old through airport security."
He almost smiled.
Almost.
Then the warehouse appeared.
Black against the water.
August stopped breathing.
Ruth saw his hand shake.
She covered it.
He looked down.
Her fingers rested across the scarred skin no adult had touched willingly in a decade.
"You're here," she said.
August swallowed.
"Yes."
"Daniel is here."
"Maybe."
"And you're not leaving him."
His eyes lifted.
"No."
They entered.
August's men had surrounded the perimeter, hidden beyond sight.
Inside, emergency lights glowed along ruined brick.
Vincent stood in the center.
Daniel knelt beside him.
Hands tied.
Blood on his lip.
August's entire body tightened.
"Let him go."
Vincent smiled.
"You brought the girl?"
"No."
The smile disappeared.
"That was unwise."
"Your argument is with me."
"My argument has always been with you."
Ruth watched Vincent.
Something about his expression bothered her.
Not rage.
Resentment.
Older than the fire.
"Why?" Ruth asked.
Vincent glanced at her.
"You really don't know?"
"Know what?"
He laughed.
"August's father built everything with mine."
August went still.
Vincent continued.
"My father bled for Edmund Howerin. Smuggled for him. Killed for him. Went to prison for him."
"Your father made his choices," August said.
"He died with thirty-seven dollars."
Vincent's voice sharpened.
"Edmund died owning half the harbor."
"So you burned the warehouse?"
Daniel looked up.
Vincent smiled.
"I intended to burn records."
August's face changed.
Not planned murder.
Something more pathetic.
More human.
And therefore more terrible.
"The weapons shipment was stolen by your men," August said.
Vincent nodded.
"Your father was getting suspicious."
"Daniel saw you."
"Yes."
Ruth felt sick.
Vincent looked at Daniel.
"Little boys notice too much."
"You carried him out."
"I saved him."
Daniel shouted:
"You locked me away!"
Vincent struck him.
August moved.
A gun pressed to Daniel's head.
"One more step."
August stopped.
Vincent continued.
"I saved him because killing a child offended me."
Ruth stared.
"You kidnapped a four-year-old for ten years and think that's mercy?"
Vincent shrugged.
"People create definitions that help them sleep."
"Why tell Daniel August abandoned him?"
"Because grief is easier to control than love."
That sentence landed everywhere.
August's eyes stayed on his brother.
"Daniel."
The boy looked at him.
"I went back."
Daniel's face crumpled.
"I know."
August froze.
"What?"
"I remembered."
Daniel swallowed.
"The priest helped me."
Vincent's jaw tightened.
"I remembered your coat burning."
August's eyes filled.
"I remembered you yelling my name."
For the first time, the boy stopped looking afraid of August.
He looked afraid for him.
"Run," Daniel whispered.
A red laser appeared on August's chest.
Ruth saw it.
"August!"
She slammed into him.
Gunfire erupted.
Lights exploded.
Daniel dropped flat.
August's men opened fire from the windows.
Vincent ran toward the rear exit.
Ruth crawled behind a concrete pillar.
August dragged Daniel with him.
"Are you hurt?"
Daniel shook his head.
Then August looked toward Ruth.
She was gone.
"Ruth?"
No answer.
His blood turned cold.
"Ruth!"
A vehicle roared outside.
August ran toward the loading door.
He reached it in time to see Vincent shove Ruth into a black sedan.
The car accelerated.
August fired.
Missed.
Then his phone rang.
Vincent.
August answered.
"You wanted Daniel," Vincent said. "I wanted the girl."
August stared into the rain.
"Poppy isn't here."
Vincent laughed.
"No."
August heard a child's scream through the phone.
His world stopped.
Vincent continued.
"But Walter is old."
August turned toward Daniel.
Toward the burning warehouse.
Toward the nightmare repeating itself.
Then Poppy's terrified voice came through the speaker.
"Mr. August?"
May you like
And August Howerin understood that Vincent had never expected Ruth to bring the child.
He had taken Poppy before they ever reached Warehouse Seven.
