Chapter 4 - The Shadow at the Gate
The words hit James like a physical blow. Chicago.
"Rebecca, go to the upper floor right now," James ordered, his calm voice hiding a surging tide of adrenaline. "Take the girls into the master bedroom. Lock the reinforced door from the inside. Do not open it for anyone except me or Vance."
"James, is it Richard?" Rebecca’s voice broke into panicked sobs. "Did he find us? Oh God, if he takes the girls—"
"He isn't taking anyone," James said fiercely. "I am leaving Manhattan right now. I will be there in two hours. Stay on the line with me."
James slammed his laptop shut, grabbed his coat, and stormed out of his office. "Victor! Cancel all my evening briefings. Get the helicopter prepped at the downtown wall street pad."
"James, you have a dinner with the Swiss investors at seven!" Victor protested, running after him.
"Cancel it!" James roared, his voice echoing through the marble halls of the executive floor.
Within fifteen minutes, James was aboard his private Sikorsky helicopter, the rotors beating furiously against the grey evening sky as it lifted off toward upstate New York. Below him, the twinkling lights of the metropolis faded into darkness, replaced by the dense, shadowy carpet of the Hudson Valley forests.
Meanwhile, back at the cabin, snow had begun to fall heavily again.
Rebecca crouched in the dark corner of the master bedroom upstairs, holding Chloe and Clare tightly in her arms. The twins were silent, sensing their mother’s terror. The room was warm, lit only by the pale moonlight filtering through the heavy drapes, but Rebecca was trembling from head to toe.
Downstairs, the heavy crunch of boots on frozen gravel sounded outside the front porch.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Rebecca squeezed her eyes shut, pulling her daughters closer.
Then came a sharp, rhythmic knock on the heavy oak front door.
"Rebecca!" a voice called out from the darkness outside. It was a voice she recognized—rough, raspy, and filled with violent authority. "I know you're in there, sweetheart! open the door!"
It was Richard.
"Mommy..." Clare whimpered, burying her small face into Rebecca’s sweater. "Is that Daddy? He sounds angry."
"Shh, baby, stay quiet," Rebecca whispered, tears pouring down her cheeks.
"Come on, Rebecca!" Richard shouted from the porch, rattling the heavy brass handle. "You really thought you could run across state lines with my kids? You think some billionaire tech guy is gonna protect you? He doesn't give a damn about you! Open this door before I break the window!"
Through the phone speaker, which was sitting silently on the bed next to her, James’s voice came through the encrypted link. "Rebecca, I’m five minutes out. Vance’s forward unit is reaching the property line right now. Hold on."
Outside, the sound of glass shattering shattered the silence of the woods. Richard had smashed the side window of the sunroom.
Rebecca screamed, jumping to her feet and shoving the twins into the walk-in closet behind the master bed. "Stay inside! Don't make a sound no matter what happens!"
She locked the closet door from the outside, snatched a heavy brass candlestick off the nightstand, and stood in the center of the dark bedroom, facing the locked door.
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Downstairs, heavy footfalls echoed across the hardwood floors. Richard was inside the house.
"Where are you, Rebecca?" Richard’s voice echoed up the stairwell, accompanied by the cold sound of a metallic slide being racked back on a handgun. "Let’s go home."
