Chapter 2 - REED TOOK SOPHIE TO PIER 19, BUT THE WOMAN WAITING THERE WAS NOT HER MOTHER
The first thing Reed did after Derek hung up was take the silver key out of his pocket and place it on the desk where everyone could see it.
The second was tell Tommy not to touch it.
That surprised me.
“Why?”
Tommy looked offended.
Reed ignored him and turned toward me.
“Because it belongs to you.”
I stared at him.
“You just put it in your pocket.”
“I was preventing you from carrying it while someone was shooting outside the door.”
“That sounds suspiciously like an excuse.”
“It is also true.”
He pushed the key toward me.
I looked at Ava.
She was still pressed against my chest, crying in short frightened bursts because the gunshots had startled her.
Someone had tried to drug my daughter.
Someone had poisoned Mrs. Perez.
My manager had accepted five thousand dollars to make sure I appeared for work.
My ex-boyfriend had been watching me on behalf of a crime organization.
My dead father had actually been Reed Callaway’s brother.
My dead mother might not be dead.
And apparently the only stable object in my life was an eight-month-old baby who had just spit on the shoulder of Chicago’s most feared restaurant owner.
I picked up the key.
“What happened outside?”
Tommy touched the radio at his belt.
“Two men came through the loading corridor.”
“Falco?”
“Probably.”
“Dead?”
He looked at Reed.
Reed said, “One wounded. One in custody.”
I waited.
“And?”
“And the police have already been called.”
That shocked me enough to forget breathing for a second.
“You called police?”
Reed looked almost insulted.
“There were gunshots in a restaurant with eighty-three civilians.”
“You’re Reed Callaway.”
“Yes.”
“The Reed Callaway.”
“I am increasingly aware.”
Tommy made a quiet sound.
I looked between them.
“You usually don’t call police.”
Reed’s eyes changed.
“No.”
“But tonight?”
He looked at Ava.
“Tonight I’m not turning your daughter into the opening scene of a gang war because that is what Falco expects me to do.”
That answer settled somewhere uncomfortable inside me.
I still did not trust him.
But trust was no longer one thing.
It was pieces.
You could believe a man would protect a room and still not know whether you should believe what he said inside it.
Ava finally quieted.
Reed pointed toward the hidden staircase.
“There is a secure apartment below this floor.”
“Apartment?”
“Two bedrooms.”
“Why?”
He stared at me.
“Because sometimes people need somewhere to disappear for a few hours.”
“That sounds criminal.”
“It frequently was.”
At least he was honest.
Then another man entered the office.
Not one of Reed’s.
He wore a dark Chicago Police Department coat dusted with snow.
Behind him came a woman in her forties with auburn hair, tired eyes, and the expression of someone who had spent twenty years being disappointed professionally.
“Reed.”
He looked at her.
“Detective Brennan.”
She looked at me.
Then Ava.
Then Elena sitting pale and crying near the wall.
Then the sealed baby bottle.
Then the weapons cabinet Tommy had forgotten to close.
Her expression became even more exhausted.
“I hate this building.”
Reed said, “You say that every time.”
“Every time I come here, something is bleeding.”
“Nothing is bleeding now.”
She pointed toward the hallway.
“Your security guard would disagree.”
I swallowed.
“Is he okay?”
Detective Nora Brennan looked at me.
“You Sophie Harper?”
“Yes.”
“Technically Sophie Callaway, apparently.”
Reed’s mouth tightened.
I looked at him.
“Do not start.”
“I said nothing.”
Brennan noticed.
Interesting.
She said, “We need to move the child away from the scene.”
“Agreed,” Reed answered.
I tightened my grip on Ava.
“With who?”
“You.”
“I’m going to Pier 19.”
Brennan’s face changed.
“No, you are not.”
Reed almost smiled.
“Good luck.”
I glared.
Detective Brennan crossed her arms.
“Your ex just demanded you bring a key to a pier after his associates entered this restaurant armed.”
“He says my mother is alive.”
“That may be true.”
“So I’m going.”
“No.”
“I am not asking.”
The detective studied me.
Then she looked at Reed.
“You two related?”
“Unfortunately,” I said.
Reed almost laughed.
Brennan rubbed her forehead.
“Fine. Here’s what happens. Nobody goes to Pier 19 alone. Nobody brings the infant. Nobody improvises. Nobody decides the law suddenly becomes optional because their last name scares politicians.”
She looked directly at Reed for that last one.
He nodded.
“Agreed.”
Tommy stared.
“Reed.”
“What?”
“You agreeing this easily makes me nervous.”
“Adapt.”
The secure apartment below the office contained no chains, money, or criminals.
Just furniture.
A kitchen.
Beds.
A small nursery.
I stopped at the crib.
Reed walked behind me.
“You said the toy box was already here.”
He looked away.
“Different question.”
“Whose nursery?”
His face became unreadable.
“My sister’s child used it years ago.”
I had another aunt?
Another cousin?
Apparently my family tree had been written by organized crime.
I did not ask.
Not tonight.
Detective Brennan arranged for a uniformed female officer and a paramedic to stay with Ava.
I almost refused.
Then the paramedic introduced herself as Danielle, showed me identification, explained every safety step, and let me watch while she opened sealed emergency formula.
No one touched my diaper bag.
The suspicious bottle went into evidence.
Ava’s remaining formula and bottles were sealed separately.
I changed her diaper.
Fed her.
Held her until her eyelids became heavy.
Then fear arrived.
What if I went to Pier 19 and never came back?
I kissed Ava’s forehead.
She smelled like formula and baby shampoo.
My entire world.
“Mommy is coming back.”
The words frightened me.
Promises had become dangerous.
I corrected.
“I’m going to do everything I can to come back.”
Better.
I handed her to Danielle.
Then followed Reed upstairs.
By 11:18 p.m., Pier 19 was surrounded in a way Derek would not easily see.
No flashing lights.
No obvious patrol cars.
Detective Brennan coordinated with an FBI organized-crime task force because Vincent Falco’s organization had already been under federal investigation.
That information did not surprise Reed.
Apparently everyone in Chicago had files on everyone.
I wore a wire.
I hated every second.
Reed was not supposed to accompany me directly.
He argued.
Lost.
Enjoyable.
He remained two blocks away with Tommy and federal agents.
I walked toward an abandoned warehouse near the frozen river carrying the key inside my coat.
Snow moved sideways.
The city sounded distant.
My hands shook.
A door stood open.
Inside, one work light glowed.
“Derek?”
Nothing.
I stepped farther.
“Derek!”
A speaker crackled.
His voice.
“Still stubborn.”
My stomach turned.
“Where is my mother?”
“You brought police.”
“I brought survival.”
A soft laugh.
“I always liked that about you.”
“Do not talk to me like we were normal.”
Silence.
Then:
“Put the key on the table.”
There was a folding table thirty feet ahead.
“No.”
“Sophie.”
“Show me my mother.”
A screen turned on.
My knees weakened.
A woman sat in a chair.
Older.
Gray in her hair.
Thin.
But I knew her face.
Even after five years.
Even after believing she was dead.
“Mom.”
The woman on the screen looked toward camera.
“Sophia.”
My breath broke.
Nobody called me that.
Nobody except my parents.
I moved toward the screen.
“Where are you?”
She looked frightened.
“Do not give him the key.”
Derek’s voice cut in.
“That wasn’t the arrangement, Margaret.”
My mother looked off-camera.
“You lied.”
“I learned from your husband.”
“Where are you?” I shouted.
She looked back.
“I’m safe right now.”
“Where?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Why?”
“Because Falco is listening.”
Reed had been right.
The pier was not the destination.
It was theater.
My mother was somewhere else.
Derek wanted the key exchanged without giving her location.
I stepped backward.
“No.”
Derek’s voice hardened.
“You don’t understand.”
“Then explain.”
“That key opens something your father stole before you were born.”
“I know.”
“No. You know the bedtime version.”
His voice changed.
“Michael didn’t steal one ledger.”
“He stole the map to an entire archive.”
I froze.
“What archive?”
My mother whispered through the screen:
“Don’t.”
Derek ignored her.
“Judges.”
“Cops.”
“Unions.”
“Construction contracts.”
“Murders.”
“Callaway money.”
“Falco money.”
“Your father copied everything.”
I looked toward the dark warehouse.
“And you spent three years sleeping beside me because you wanted a key?”
Silence.
That silence answered too much.
“Derek.”
His voice was quieter when he returned.
“At first, I was supposed to find the medal.”
My stomach turned.
“At first?”
“I was told to get close.”
“To become useful.”
“To learn what your mother told you before she supposedly died.”
“Did Falco tell you to date me?”
“Yes.”
The word hurt more than it should have.
I had already suspected.
Still.
“Did he tell you to get me pregnant?”
“No.”
Immediate.
I closed my eyes.
“That was us.”
His voice broke slightly.
“That was real.”
“No.”
“Sophie.”
“You don’t get to separate the parts that help you sleep.”
Silence.
Then my mother said:
“He’s telling truth about that.”
I stared at the screen.
“What?”
Margaret looked exhausted.
“Derek was assigned to watch you.”
“But Ava was not ordered.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I was watching him.”
The room tilted.
“You were what?”
My mother closed her eyes.
“I knew who he was before you did.”
Pain became anger so fast I almost dropped the key.
“You knew?”
“I found him when you were pregnant.”
“And you said nothing?”
“I thought if he believed I was dead—”
“You weren’t dead yet.”
“No.”
“You faked your death five years ago. I met Derek three years ago.”
“Yes.”
“Then you watched me date a man you knew worked for Falco?”
“I didn’t know until after you were pregnant.”
“That is not better.”
“I know.”
“No one in my family is allowed to say that sentence anymore.”
The speaker went silent.
Then another sound.
A door behind me.
I turned.
A woman stepped from shadows.
Not my mother.
Elena.
No.
Elena was in police custody at Callaway’s.
This woman was younger.
Maybe thirty.
Dark winter coat.
Gun in one hand.
I froze.
She said:
“Key.”
Derek’s voice snapped through speaker.
“Lena, don’t.”
So he had not expected her.
Good.
The woman raised weapon.
“Key.”
My heart hammered.
The police were outside.
They needed clean line.
I took one step sideways.
She followed.
Then gunfire cracked somewhere behind her.
Not at me.
The weapon fell from her hand.
She screamed and dropped.
Detective Brennan rushed in with officers.
“Police!”
Everything moved.
I hit the floor.
Hands over my head.
The woman was alive.
Shot in shoulder by a task-force marksman after she pointed the gun toward me.
Derek’s speaker went dead.
The screen with my mother turned black.
I screamed.
“No!”
Detective Brennan grabbed my arm.
“She was live.”
“You don’t know.”
“The signal was live.”
“Can you trace?”
“Working.”
Reed entered despite being told not to.
Of course.
He saw me.
Saw the key still in my hand.
Then the dark screen.
“Was it Margaret?”
“Yes.”
He stopped.
For the first time since this started, Reed Callaway looked afraid.
Not of Falco.
Not of police.
Of hope.
“My brother’s wife is alive.”
I looked at him.
“My mother.”
“Yes.”
“Do not make this about Michael.”
His jaw tightened.
Then he nodded.
“Right.”
Detective Brennan’s phone rang.
She answered.
Listened.
Then looked at me.
“We traced the video origin.”
My entire body locked.
“Where?”
“Not Chicago.”
“Where?”
She hesitated.
“Milwaukee.”
My heart stopped.
My sister lived in Milwaukee.
And suddenly I remembered something my mother had once said before her supposed death.
If anything ever happens and you need family, go north.
May you like
I had thought she meant my sister.
Apparently my mother had been closer than I knew for years.
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