Chapter 7 - Beneath Hawthorne Hill
The old Hawthorne summer estate stood twenty miles north of Greenwich.
It had been built in 1911 and abandoned after a flood damaged the lower level.
Jonathan had not visited since childhood.
Police surrounded the property before dawn.
The mansion sat on a wooded hill overlooking a frozen reservoir.
Most of the windows were boarded.
Vines covered the stone walls.
No lights showed inside.
Jonathan stood beside Detective Ortiz near the command vehicle.
“There are three tunnels,” he explained. “One leads to the old boathouse. One to the greenhouse. One exits near the reservoir.”
Ortiz studied the map.
“Any hidden rooms?”
Jonathan gave a bitter laugh.
“In my family? Probably.”
Maya had been told to remain at the hospital.
She did not.
She arrived in a taxi twenty minutes later.
Jonathan stared at her.
“You shouldn't be here.”
“Neither should Lucas.”
They looked toward him.
Lucas stood beside a police cruiser, leaning on his crutches.
His jaw was set.
“My mother is inside.”
Ortiz approached.
“No civilians enter until tactical clears the building.”
Then a speaker crackled.
A woman's voice came through one of the police radios.
Celeste.
“Jonathan.”
Every officer froze.
Ortiz grabbed the radio.
“Celeste Hawthorne, this is Detective Ortiz.”
“I wasn't speaking to you.”
Jonathan stepped forward.
“Where is Mrs. Grant?”
“Alive.”
“Let her go.”
“You always were so eager to sound noble when someone was watching.”
Jonathan closed his eyes.
“What do you want?”
“Lucas's hard drive.”
“No.”
Lucas called out.
“Take it!”
Ortiz shook her head sharply.
Celeste laughed over the radio.
“How touching.”
Jonathan gripped the device.
“What happens if we give it to you?”
“I leave.”
“And Mrs. Grant?”
“You get her back.”
“Noah?”
Silence.
Then Celeste spoke softly.
“Noah ruined everything.”
Jonathan's face hardened.
“You will never touch him again.”
Celeste laughed.
“Do you know what Evelyn's final mistake was?”
Jonathan said nothing.
“She thought love made people brave.”
The radio clicked off.
Ortiz ordered the tactical team forward.
They entered through the main doors.
Minutes passed.
Then ten.
Then twenty.
No gunfire.
No shouting.
Only static.
Finally the team reported the first floor clear.
Second floor clear.
No Celeste.
No hostage.
The basement entrance had been welded shut.
Officers moved to the tunnel exits.
Jonathan stared toward the trees.
“She isn't inside.”
Ortiz looked at him.
“What?”
“She wants us looking at the house.”
Lucas understood first.
“The tunnels.”
A police officer shouted from the boathouse.
Movement.
Everyone turned.
A black SUV burst from a hidden service road near the reservoir.
Police vehicles moved to intercept.
The SUV swerved violently.
Then stopped.
Doors opened.
Officers surrounded it.
Empty.
Ortiz swore.
A decoy.
Then Maya heard something.
Three short knocks.
Two long.
Three short.
She turned.
The sound came from beneath her feet.
“Jonathan.”
“What?”
“Listen.”
Again.
Three short.
Two long.
Three short.
Jonathan's eyes widened.
Maya dropped to her knees.
A drainage grate lay beneath dead leaves.
The sound came from below.
Ortiz shouted for tools.
Officers ripped the grate free.
A narrow concrete shaft descended into darkness.
Lucas pushed forward.
“Mom?”
A faint voice answered.
“Lucas?”
He nearly collapsed.
Police descended.
They found Margaret Grant tied inside an old maintenance chamber.
Alive.
Weak.
Terrified.
But alive.
Lucas held her for a long time.
While paramedics examined her, Margaret grabbed Ortiz's wrist.
“She isn't gone.”
“Celeste?”
Margaret nodded.
“She was here thirty minutes ago.”
“Where did she go?”
Margaret looked toward Jonathan.
“She said she had one last appointment.”
“With whom?”
Margaret swallowed.
“Your son.”
Jonathan went white.
“Noah is under police protection.”
Margaret shook her head.
“She said people trust uniforms too much.”
Jonathan was already running.
At the hospital, Maya's worst fear had already happened.
A woman wearing hospital scrubs had entered Noah's floor using forged credentials.
Security footage showed her carrying a medical bag.
The woman's face was covered by a surgical mask.
But Jonathan recognized the walk.
Celeste.
By the time police arrived, Noah's room was empty.
His monitor leads had been cut.
The stuffed fox lay on the floor.
Beside it was a note.
Jonathan picked it up.
One sentence.
Evelyn took everything from me.
Now you can choose what I take from you.
At the bottom was a time.
6:00 p.m.
And a location.
Hawthorne Children's Foundation annual press conference.
Jonathan stared at the page.
“She wants an audience.”
Ortiz looked at the clock.
Three hours.
“What does she want you to choose?”
Jonathan read the note again.
Then noticed writing on the back.
Two words.
The Foundation.
Lucas understood.
“She wants control.”
“No,” Maya said.
Everyone looked at her.
Maya thought of Celeste's speech at the gala.
The cameras.
The donors.
The reputation.
“She wants him to give it to her publicly.”
May you like
Jonathan's face hardened.
“Then we let her think I will.”
