Chapter 3 - The Little Boy in East LA
The rain had started falling over Los Angeles by the time Daniel’s midnight-blue SUV pulled up to a small, worn-down duplex in East LA.
The neighborhood was a stark contrast to the gated security gates of Beverly Hills. Broken streetlights flickered against rusted chain-link fences, and the smell of wet asphalt filled the humid night air. Daniel parked along the curb, his heart hammering against his ribs.
He stepped out of the vehicle and walked up the concrete steps of the duplex, knocking firmly on the wooden door.
A porch light flickered on. A small window curtain twitched, and an elderly woman with silver hair pulled the door open just a crack, keeping the safety chain engaged.
"Who are you?" she asked suspiciously, eyeing his tailored coat and expensive leather shoes.
"My name is Daniel Whitmore," he said softly, stepping closer so she could see his face clearly. "Maria sent me. She's in the hospital, but she's safe. She told me to come get Noah."
The woman’s eyes widened with anxiety. "Maria? Is she alright? She called me an hour ago sounding terrified, telling me not to open the door for anyone!"
"She was attacked, but she's going to be fine," Daniel reassured her. "Please, I'm Noah's uncle. I need to take him somewhere secure."
The elderly woman unlatched the chain and pulled the door open wide. "I'm Mrs. Delgado. Come inside quickly. There was a black sedan driving slowly down our street ten minutes ago. It didn't look like anyone from around here."
Daniel stepped into the humble living room. Sitting on a small floral sofa, wrapped in a faded superhero blanket, was a young boy with messy brown hair.
When the boy looked up, Daniel froze in his tracks.
It was like looking into a ghost's eyes. The boy had Andrew’s wide, expressive hazel eyes, the same distinct jawline, and the tiny dimple on his chin that Andrew used to hide whenever he smiled. There was zero doubt in Daniel’s mind—this child was a Whitmore.
"Are you the man from the big house?" Noah asked softly, holding a plastic toy transformer tightly in his small hands.
Daniel slowly dropped to one knee, bringing himself down to the boy's eye level. He swallowed the lump of emotion rising in his throat. "I am, Noah. I'm your Uncle Daniel."
Noah blinked, looking at him with curious innocence. "Mommy told me about you. She said you were very busy saving companies, but that you were a good man."
A sharp pang of guilt stabbed Daniel's chest. All those years, while Maria washed his dishes and folded his laundry, she had been telling her son that his wealthy uncle was a good man. Meanwhile, Daniel had barely noticed her existence.
"I'm here to take care of you, buddy," Daniel said gently. "Your mom wants you to come stay with me for a little while."
Suddenly, the headlights of an approaching car swept across the living room window.
Mrs. Delgado peeked through the blinds and gasped. "It's that black sedan! Two men in dark suits just stepped out!"
Daniel's instincts kicked in instantly. "Mrs. Delgado, do you have a back exit?"
"Through the kitchen, into the alleyway!" she said frantically.
"Get your shoes on, Noah," Daniel commanded quietly, lifting the boy into his arms and wrapping him securely inside his long wool coat. "Mrs. Delgado, go lock yourself in your bedroom and call 911 if they break that door."
"God protect you both," the old woman whispered.
Daniel moved swiftly through the kitchen, pushed open the squeaky screen door, and stepped out into the dark, rain-soaked alley. He ran low toward the side street where his SUV was parked.
Behind him, he heard the sharp sound of wood splintering as the front door of the duplex was kicked open, followed by aggressive voices shouting inside.
Daniel reached his vehicle, unlocked the doors, placed Noah into the back seat, and slammed the door shut. He sprinted to the driver's side, turned the key, and slammed his foot onto the accelerator just as two men in heavy jackets burst out of the alleyway, pointing fingers toward his retreating vehicle.
As the tires squealed against the wet pavement, Daniel looked in his rearview mirror. Noah was sitting quietly, holding his toy tightly, staring at Daniel with trusting eyes.
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"Where are we going, Uncle Daniel?" the boy asked innocently.
Daniel gripped the steering wheel tight, his expression hardening. "We're going home, Noah. And nobody is ever going to hurt you again."
