Chapter 10 - The Price of a Child
Walter was alive.
That was the first mercy.
He had been found unconscious at the safe house after one guard betrayed them.
Three others were dead.
Poppy was gone.
August didn't speak for fifteen minutes after learning the news.
He stood beside a hospital window while Walter received stitches in the adjoining room.
Ruth had been released by Vincent less than ten miles from the docks.
That frightened August more than if he had kept her.
Vincent wanted her free.
Wanted her afraid.
Wanted her to experience waiting.
Ruth paced.
"Why take Poppy and release me?"
August knew.
He didn't want to say.
Daniel did.
"Because he needs her alive."
Ruth stopped.
"For the trust?"
Daniel nodded.
"Vincent used to talk about it."
August looked at him.
"What did he say?"
Daniel sat with a blanket around his shoulders.
"When I was little, I didn't understand."
His voice trembled.
"He said one day you'd die and I would sign papers."
August's eyes darkened.
"He kept me because I was useful."
"Yes."
"And Poppy?"
"If she's another heir, she's useful too."
Ruth sat.
She looked suddenly very small.
"I brought her into this."
August turned.
"No."
"I took the job."
"Ruth."
"I walked through your door."
He crossed the room.
She backed away.
August stopped.
He understood.
She needed someone to blame.
And he was willing to be that person if it kept her from blaming herself.
"This is because of me," he said.
Ruth looked up.
"August—"
"If you had never met me, Vincent might never have known Poppy existed."
"That doesn't make it your fault."
"It makes it my world."
Ruth's eyes filled.
"And she is my daughter."
Silence.
Two kinds of guilt stood facing each other.
Daniel finally spoke.
"Then stop wasting time deciding who gets to hurt."
Both looked at him.
The fifteen-year-old wiped blood from his lip.
"Find her."
They did.
The clue came from Poppy.
Vincent allowed one phone call.
Three minutes.
Ruth answered.
"Poppy?"
"Mommy."
Ruth nearly collapsed.
"I'm here."
"Are you mad?"
"No, baby. Never."
"I dropped Mr. Bear."
"It's okay."
"Will you find me?"
Ruth covered her mouth.
"Yes."
August stood beside her.
"Poppy, listen to me."
A pause.
"Mr. August?"
"Yes."
"You sound scared."
August closed his eyes.
"I am."
"Me too."
He gripped the phone.
"Can you tell me what you see?"
"A room."
"What else?"
"Windows."
"Can you see outside?"
"Water."
August looked at his men.
Baltimore had miles of waterfront.
"What do you hear?"
Poppy went quiet.
"A bell."
"What kind?"
"Big."
A distant horn came through the call.
Daniel looked up.
"Train."
August turned.
Water.
Bell.
Train.
Walter, despite stitches, entered the room.
"Locust Point."
August looked at him.
"The old Saint Brigid freight depot. Church bell across the harbor. Rail line behind it."
The call disconnected.
Ruth grabbed her coat.
August stopped her.
"No."
She looked at him.
"If you try to keep me behind this time, I will hate you."
He believed her.
They arrived before midnight.
The depot looked abandoned.
It wasn't.
Vincent's men waited.
August entered alone first.
That was the condition.
Inside, Poppy sat at a table coloring on blank paper.
No chains.
No visible injuries.
Vincent stood behind her.
Ruth watched from a hidden position with Daniel and August's men.
August walked forward.
Poppy smiled when she saw him.
"Hi."
His throat closed.
"Hi."
Vincent pushed documents across the table.
"Sign."
August glanced down.
Transfer agreements.
Control of Howerin shipping.
Bank accounts.
Voting rights.
Everything.
August laughed.
Vincent frowned.
"What's funny?"
"You waited ten years for paperwork?"
"I waited ten years for what your father stole."
"You could have asked."
Vincent's face hardened.
"You would have given it?"
"No."
Vincent smiled.
"Then sign."
August picked up the pen.
Poppy watched him.
"Mr. August?"
"Yes?"
"You don't have to."
Vincent's hand clamped onto her shoulder.
August's eyes became lethal.
Poppy winced.
August signed the first page.
Then the second.
Then the third.
Vincent relaxed.
That was his mistake.
Daniel stepped from the shadows.
"Hey, Vincent."
Vincent turned.
Daniel raised a phone.
"I recorded everything."
Gunfire erupted.
Ruth ran for Poppy.
August overturned the table.
Vincent fired.
A bullet struck August's shoulder.
He fell.
Poppy screamed.
Ruth reached her.
Daniel lunged at Vincent.
The two crashed against a railing.
August tried to stand.
His injured leg failed.
Vincent raised the gun toward Daniel.
August fired first.
The bullet struck Vincent's hand.
His weapon fell.
Daniel punched him.
Once.
Twice.
Years of stolen childhood behind every blow.
Ruth grabbed him.
"Daniel!"
Vincent staggered backward.
Behind him, broken railing.
He slipped.
August reached out instinctively.
Their hands caught.
Vincent dangled above black water.
He looked up.
At the scarred hand holding him.
The same man he had tried to destroy.
"Pull me up."
August stared.
Ten years.
Daniel.
His father.
Poppy.
Warehouse Seven.
Everything lived inside that moment.
Then August tightened his grip.
And pulled.
Because in the end, August Howerin was not the monster people said he was.
Vincent was arrested by federal agents August had secretly contacted.
By sunrise, Poppy slept against Ruth's chest.
Daniel sat beside Walter.
And August lay in surgery.
Ruth waited outside.
May you like
For the first time, she realized the truth she had been avoiding.
She loved him.
