Chapter 12 - The Ghosts of Gary
The storm off Lake Michigan raged through the night, but inside the house, there was no sleep.
By three in the morning, the kitchen table was transformed into a command center. I had pulled the hidden floorboard safe out from beneath the master bedroom closet. Laid out across the polished wood were three untraceable sat phones, stacks of clean cash, false passports under European names, and two additional high-caliber handguns I had kept as a dark insurance policy.
Claire sat beside me, her knuckles white as she packed two small duffel bags with clothes for Eli and Lily. Her eyes were red, but the initial shock had turned into a hard, protective mother’s focus.
"Where are we sending the kids, David?" she asked, her voice hushed so as not to wake the children upstairs.
"Victor," I answered flatly.
Victor was my former head of security from the old days—the only man who had taken a bullet for me and survived the fallout. Five years ago, after the trials, I had bought him a quiet farm in rural southern Indiana. He had sworn an oath to me, not as a boss, but as a brother.
"Is he safe?" Claire searched my eyes. "If Marcus Vance leaked our files..."
"Victor isn't in the federal database," I replied. "He lives off the grid. No internet, no paper trail. I called him from an encrypted satellite line twenty minutes ago. He’s already en route in a cold transport. He’ll meet us at a highway rest stop near Grand Rapids in two hours."
Claire closed her eyes, letting out a ragged breath. "And you? You're not coming to Indiana, are you?"
I reached across the table, covering her trembling hand with mine. "If I go with you, Dominic follows the scent. He has resources inside the Marshals Service now. The only way to keep you and the kids alive is for me to become the target again."
"David..."
"He wants Adrian Vance," I said, my voice dropping into a low, gravelly register. "He wants the man who took his empire, his face, and his pride. To draw him out, I have to go back to where it all began."
"Gary," Claire whispered, the name of the cold, abandoned Indiana industrial town tasting like ash in her mouth. "The old motel. The steel mills."
"It's neutral territory," I said. "And it's full of places to bury a ghost."
At 4:30 AM, a nondescript dark green pickup truck pulled onto the gravel driveway with its headlights killed. Victor stepped out, his face older, a deep scar running along his jaw, but his eyes were as sharp as military steel.
Without a word, Victor embraced me, then turned to Claire with a respectful nod. "Mrs. Miller. The backseat is set up with blankets for the little ones."
We carried Eli and Lily down, wrapped in heavy fleece blankets. Eli stirred briefly, rubbing his eyes beneath his dark hair.
"Dad?" Eli mumbled, clutching his small wooden birdhouse to his chest. "Where are we going?"
I knelt down, resting my hands on my six-year-old son's shoulders, choking back the knot in my throat. "You're going on a little adventure with Uncle Victor to the farm, Eli. You get to see the horses."
"Are you and Mom coming?" Lily asked through a yawn, her pink glasses crooked on her face.
Claire knelt beside me, pulling both children into a fierce, tight hug, kissing their foreheads. "Mom and Dad have to finish fixing something here first, sweetie. We'll be right behind you. I promise."
I looked Victor in the eyes. "With your life, Victor."
"With my life, boss," Victor swore quietly.
May you like
I watched the pickup truck's taillights disappear into the freezing Michigan rain, taking my entire heart with them. When the red glow faded, I turned back to Claire. She stood on the gravel, her shoulders shaking, holding her old silver locket tight against her lips.
"Now," I said, slipping the Sig Sauer into my coat pocket. "We go to Gary."
