Chapter 4 - The Parallel Lives
The realization hit Julian like a physical blow.
He looked back at Laya, who was currently accepting a chocolate chip cookie from a nurse, her face bright with innocent joy. Then he looked at the screen, at his own daughter, Clara, who was the exact same age, holding her breath in some dark, terrifying cellar.
The irony was a cruel, twisted joke. One five-year-old girl had saved his wealth; another was being held hostage because of it.
"Who are they, Arthur?" Julian hissed, his voice vibrating with a lethal, suppressed rage. "We’ve kept Clara's existence a secret since Vivienne died. Only five people in the world knew she was living at the St. Clair estate under private security."
"It has to be an insider, sir," Arthur said, his jaw tight. "The security protocols were bypassed without a single alarm being tripped. Whoever took Clara had the biometric codes for the east gate."
Julian’s mind raced through the inner circle of his life. His brother, Thomas, who had been clamoring for a share of the estate trust. His business partner, Victor Vance, who was currently facing bankruptcy after a failed shipping venture in the Atlantic.
"Julian," Arthur continued, "the police want to keep the suitcase for forensic analysis. They don't know Clara has been taken. If we tell them, the kidnappers will see the police activity and..."
"No police," Julian said, his eyes turning to cold flint. "We don't have twelve hours. If we wait for the bureaucracy of the FBI, my daughter is dead. We have the serial numbers of the bills. We have the silent tracking dye."
"The dye was activated when the suitcase was opened at the precinct," Arthur noted. "But since the money is currently sitting in the police vault, the tracker is static. We can't use it to find the kidnappers unless we get that suitcase back in their hands."
"Then we steal it," Julian said.
Arthur stared at him. "Sir? You’re proposing we rob a Detroit police precinct?"
"I’m proposing we retrieve my property," Julian corrected him. "And we do it before the kidnappers realize we’ve bypassed them. But first, we need to ensure Laya and her mother are safe. If this is an insider, whoever took Clara might realize Laya was the one who found the money. They won't leave her alive."
Julian walked back over to Laya. He knelt down again, taking her small hand in his. "Laya, I have to go help my daughter. She’s... she’s lost, like your suitcase was. But I want you and your mom to go to a very safe place. My friend Arthur is going to take you to a beautiful house with a big fireplace and lots of food. Will you go with him?"
Laya looked at him, her green eyes searching his face with a maturity that went far beyond her five years. "Is your daughter scared?"
"Yes," Julian said, his voice cracking. "She is."
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"I was scared in the snow," Laya said softly, reaching up to touch his silver-threaded temple. "But then I found the light of the police station. You'll find her, Julian. You're strong."
Julian closed his eyes, drawing strength from the child’s pure faith. "I will, Laya. I promise."
