Chapter 8 - The Red Light
For three days, the Blake estate was suffocatingly quiet.
Lily barely ate her dinner, spent her afternoons sitting in Clara’s room, and refused to play. Marcus spent every waking hour in his study with a team of private investigators and financial analysts.
The reports coming back were alarming. Richard Vance had immediately filed claims with the insurance company handling Sarah Miller’s mother’s estate to expedite the release of the $400,000 trust fund. Meanwhile, the investigators watching Vance’s apartment reported that Vance frequently left Clara alone with a neighbor while he spent hours at a local illegal gambling den downtown.
“We don't have enough for an emergency removal yet,” Arthur cautioned Marcus during a late-night meeting. “Leaving a child with a neighbor isn't legally considered abandonment unless it exceeds a certain time threshold. If we push too fast without concrete physical proof of endangerment, the judge will throw it out as harassment.”
“He’s gambling away her future before he even gets the money,” Marcus said, slamming his fist onto the mahogany desk. “I’m not waiting for him to hurt her.”
It was 2:14 AM on the fourth night.
Marcus was sitting at his desk, staring at a computer monitor that displayed the real-time location data of Clara’s watch. The green dot was stationary at Vance’s apartment building on the rough east side of town.
Suddenly, a loud, high-pitched alarm shrieked from Marcus’s phone.
The screen flashed bright crimson.
SOS SIGNAL ACTIVATED: DEVICE 04-CLARA
Marcus stood up so fast his chair crashed backward against the floorboards.
He grabbed his coat, pulled his car keys from the desk, and sprinted down the hallway. Within thirty seconds, the massive engine of his SUV roared to life, tires screeching against the asphalt as he tore down the driveway into the rainy night.
He tapped his Bluetooth earbud as he sped down the highway at ninety miles per hour.
“Thomas!” Marcus barked to his head of security, a former Special Forces operator. “The SOS went off! I’m heading to Vance’s address now. Get your team there immediately!”
“We’re five minutes behind you, boss!” Thomas responded. “Sending two units!”
Rain lashed against the windshield like thrown gravel as Marcus pushed the SUV to its absolute limit. His heart pounded wildly in his chest. Images of Clara—small, helpless, curled up on cardboard—flashed through his mind.
“I promise on my life,” he had told her.
Ten minutes later, Marcus slammed his vehicle into park in front of a run-down, three-story apartment building with peeling paint and flickering hallway lights.
He didn't wait for his security team. He threw open the door, ran up the front steps, and kicked open the broken front entrance gate.
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He sprinted up the narrow, foul-smelling staircase to the third floor, searching for Apartment 3B.
When he reached the door, he heard screaming from inside.
