Chapter 4 - THE DINOSAUR BACKPACK
Complete darkness hit the mansion like a physical blow.
One second, the dining room chandelier was blazing.
The next, the power was cut completely.
"Secure the boss!" someone shouted in the dark.
Chairs crashed to the floor. The sound of guns being cocked echoed in the pitch black.
"My son!" I screamed, the panic tearing through my throat like broken glass. I didn't care about the guns. I didn't care about the mobsters.
I shoved past the heavy chairs, moving blindly toward the hallway.
A strong hand grabbed my arm, pulling me back.
"Don't move, Hannah!" Dominic's voice barked right next to my ear. "If you run in the dark, my men might shoot you."
"They have Leo!" I sobbed, fighting against his grip, kicking out with my good leg. "Let me go! He’s only seven!"
"I know," Dominic said. His voice wasn't angry. It was dangerously calm. "And no one is leaving this house alive if that boy is hurt. Flashlights! Now!"
Beams of harsh white LED light sliced through the darkness.
Dominic still had a tight grip on my arm. He looked at his security chief.
"Where is Sal?"
The security chief swept his beam across the far end of the table.
The chair was empty. Sal’s wine glass was tipped over, red liquid dripping onto the floor like fresh blood.
He had slipped away the second the lights died.
"Matteo, Charles," Dominic commanded. "On your knees. Hands on your heads."
Matteo instantly dropped to the floor, sobbing.
Charles hesitated, looking toward the door.
Dominic didn't even blink. He raised his weapon and fired a single shot into the floor, two inches from Charles's polished shoes.
The gunshot in the enclosed room was deafening.
Charles dropped to his knees, throwing his hands over his head, trembling violently.
"Watch them," Dominic ordered two of his guards. He turned to me, his dark eyes locking onto mine in the flashlight beam. "Show me where he was."
I didn't need to be told twice.
I ignored the burning agony behind my right knee. I ignored the blood soaking into my stocking. I ran.
Dominic and his security chief flanked me as we sprinted out of the dining room and up the grand sweeping staircase.
"Why was he here, Hannah?" Dominic asked, his flashlight cutting through the heavy shadows of the second floor. "Why bring a child into this house?"
"My babysitter quit at four o'clock," I gasped, taking the stairs two at a time. "If I missed another shift, Charles threatened to fire me. I needed the medical insurance, Mr. Caruso. Leo has severe asthma. He needs his inhalers."
Dominic’s face hardened. He didn't say a word. He just moved faster.
We reached the end of the east wing.
The door to the servant's quarters was slightly ajar.
I pushed it open, my hands shaking so badly I could barely feel the doorknob.
"Leo?" I whispered into the dark room.
Nothing.
I clicked on the flashlight Dominic had shoved into my hand.
The small bed was empty. The covers were thrown back.
But that wasn't what made my knees buckle.
Lying in the center of the braided rug was a broken wooden toy train.
Leo’s favorite toy. The one he never let out of his sight.
"He was here," I cried, dropping to my knees and picking up the broken wooden engine. "He was right here."
Dominic stepped into the room. He swept his light across the floor.
"Look," he said softly.
Near the window, resting on the floorboards, was a heavy gold lighter.
The lid was flipped open. It had an intricate 'S' engraved on the side.
"Sal," Dominic whispered.
"The library," the security chief said urgently. "The photo on the phone showed the backpack in the library. He must have taken the boy there."
I didn't wait for them. I scrambled to my feet and bolted down the hall toward the west wing.
The heavy oak doors of Dominic’s private library were closed.
I didn't care what was inside. I threw my weight against them, bursting into the massive, book-lined room.
The flashlight beam bounced frantically across the leather sofas, the towering bookshelves, and finally... the mahogany desk.
Sitting perfectly center on the desk was the blue dinosaur backpack.
I rushed to it, ripping it open.
Leo’s spare inhaler was inside. His crayons. A half-eaten granola bar.
But no Leo.
"He's playing a game," Dominic said, walking slowly into the room, his eyes scanning the shadows. "He wants the folder."
"But he took the folder!" I yelled frantically. "Charles gave it to Matteo, and Sal orchestrated the whole thing!"
"No," Dominic said quietly.
He walked past me, toward a massive oil painting on the far wall. He reached behind the heavy frame and pulled a hidden lever.
A portion of the bookshelf slid open, revealing a steel wall safe.
Dominic quickly punched in a code. The heavy door clicked open.
He reached inside and pulled out a brown leather folder.
I stared at it. "But... I saw Charles with it."
"Charles stole a dummy folder," Dominic said, turning to face me. "I suspected a leak in my house for months. I planted a fake folder with useless contracts to see who would take the bait."
He looked down at the real folder in his hands.
"This is the real one. The one David died to protect. It contains the financial records that prove Sal stole fifty million dollars from the family trust, and the offshore accounts where he hid it."
I shook my head, my mind spinning. "So give it to him! Give it to him and get my son back!"
"I will," Dominic said gently.
Before I could process the relief, the heavy oak doors of the library slammed shut.
The deadbolt clicked violently from the outside.
We were locked in.
Suddenly, a voice echoed through the room.
It was coming from a two-way intercom speaker on the desk.
"You always were too clever for your own good, Dominic," Sal’s voice crackled through the static.
"Sal," Dominic said, stepping toward the desk. "Let the boy go. This is between you and me."
"It's between me and my legacy," Sal replied, his voice chillingly calm. "I built this family. Your father was weak. You are weak. That money was mine."
"Where is my son?!" I screamed at the speaker.
A heavy pause.
Then, a tiny, terrified voice echoed through the intercom.
"Mommy?"
"Leo!" I sobbed, gripping the edge of the desk. "I'm here, baby! Mommy's here!"
"Mommy, it’s cold," Leo whimpered. "And it smells like dirt."
My blood froze.
Dirt. Cold. Glass.
I looked at Dominic.
"The greenhouse," Dominic whispered.
"Bring the real folder to the greenhouse, Dominic," Sal’s voice returned, hard and absolute. "You have ten minutes. If you try to bring your guards, or if you aren't here in time..."
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The sound of a gun hammer clicking back echoed through the speaker.
"The maid’s son pays for your father's sins."
