Chapter 5 - The Ransom Note
My stomach dropped to my knees.
I grabbed the car door handle, pulling it open. The interior smelled of old lavender and terrified sweat. On the floorboard lay a child’s drawing—a messy crayon sketch of a blue cottage.
“Marcus!” I screamed, spinning around toward the estate. “Marcus!”
The heavy security doors flew open. Marcus sprinted down the steps, his weapon drawn. When he saw the shattered window, he cursed violently into his radio.
Within seconds, the driveway was flooded with armed men.
Adrian burst through the doors, not bothering to put his jacket back on. June trailed behind him, supported by one of the maids.
“Where is he?!” Adrian demanded, grabbing my shoulders.
“He’s gone,” I choked out, holding up the child’s drawing. “The window was broken when I got here. And… I found this.”
I pointed to the black leather glove resting on the driver’s seat.
Adrian’s face drained of color. He reached into the car and picked up the glove. Tucked neatly inside one of the fingers was a small, folded piece of paper.
He ripped it open.
I watched his jaw muscles feather. He handed the note to Marcus, then turned his back, staring out into the dark trees lining the property.
Marcus read it aloud, his voice grim.
“‘The sins of the father fall to the son. You have until midnight to bring us the ledger, Falcone. Or the boy joins his dad.’”
June collapsed against the car, wailing. “No! My baby! They took my baby!”
“Get her inside,” Adrian ordered, his voice terrifyingly calm. “Lily, stay with her. Do not let her out of your sight.”
I nodded, helping June walk back into the warmth of the mansion. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely hold her up.
Once we were safely in the private study, I sat June on the leather sofa and poured her a glass of water.
“What ledger?” I asked quietly.
June looked at me, her eyes wild with panic. “Dominic’s notebook. It contains every offshore account, every bribe, every dirty politician in Chicago. It’s the only reason the Romanos haven’t taken over the city yet.”
“Does Adrian have it?” I asked.
June shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “No. Dominic hid it before he died. He gave me a clue, but I could never figure it out.”
The study door flew open. Adrian marched in, followed by his tactical team.
“Aunt June,” Adrian said, kneeling in front of her. “I need the ledger. Where did Dominic hide it?”
“I don’t know!” she sobbed. “He told me to look to the saints, but I searched his entire apartment! There was nothing!”
Adrian stood up, pacing the room like a caged tiger. “The saints. St. Jude? St. Michael? We own a dozen properties named after saints.”
He looked at the grandfather clock. It was 9:15 PM.
They had less than three hours to find a notebook that had been lost for seven years, or a six-year-old boy would die.
I looked at the brass dinner bell sitting on the desk. Adrian had brought it in from the dining room.
Then my eyes drifted to June’s hands.
She was clutching a worn, wooden rosary.
“June,” I said softly, my voice cutting through the shouting men. “Where did you get that rosary?”
Everyone stopped and looked at me.
June looked down at her hands. “Dominic gave it to me. The night he dropped Leo off.”
Adrian stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. “Let me see it.”
June handed the beads over. Adrian ran his fingers over the smooth wooden crosses.
“Look at the centerpiece,” I pointed. “That’s not the Virgin Mary.”
Adrian held it up to the light. The small metal medallion connecting the beads was tarnished, but the engraving was clear. It was a man holding a key.
“Saint Peter,” Adrian breathed.
“He didn’t mean a property,” I said, my heart pounding. “He meant a lock. Saint Peter holds the keys to heaven.”
Adrian spun the medallion around. On the back, etched barely deep enough to read, were four numbers.
“1142.”
“The time he died,” Marcus said, realization dawning.
“No,” Adrian said, dropping the rosary into his pocket. “The time his watch stopped. He set it to that time on purpose.”
Adrian rushed to the large portrait of Dominic hanging above the fireplace. He felt along the carved wooden frame until his finger hit a small notch.
He pressed it.
With a soft click, the portrait swung outward, revealing a heavy steel wall safe.
Adrian punched in the numbers. 1-1-4-2.
The heavy metal door clicked open.
Inside sat a small, black leather notebook.
Adrian pulled it out. “We found it.”
But before anyone could celebrate, the study phone rang.
Adrian snatched it up. “I have the ledger. Where do we meet?”
He listened for a moment. His face twisted into confusion.
“What do you mean you don’t have him?” Adrian demanded.
He put the phone on speaker.
A gruff voice echoed through the room. “We didn’t take the kid, Falcone. We’ve been watching your estate all night. Someone else snatched him out of that Honda five minutes before we made our move.”
The line went dead.
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We all stared at each other in horror.
If the Romanos didn’t take little Leo... who did?
