Chapter 72 Chapter 72
SEVENTY-TWO~
The FBI command center was chaos. Agents tracking leads, analyzing the email, trying to trace Victoria's location. But Victoria was smart. She'd planned this carefully.
"What does she mean by 'give me what I want'?" Declan asked, reading the email again. "What specifically does she want?"
"Control," I said. "She wants to rebuild the network. And she thinks she can force us to help by holding Emma hostage."
"That's insane," Marcus said. "We'd never help rebuild what we spent years destroying."
"Victoria doesn't see it that way," Agent Martinez said. "She thinks if she threatens you enough, hurts you enough, you'll do anything to make it stop."
"She's right," Liam said quietly. "I'd do anything to get Emma back safely."
"That's what she's counting on," I said.
A third email arrived.
Here's what I want: access to the offshore accounts James set up. The ones his children inherited. Transfer control to me, and Emma lives.
"The accounts were seized by the government years ago," Declan said.
"Not all of them," Agent Martinez said reluctantly. "Some were returned to you and Liam after James's estate was settled. About fifteen million dollars total."
"You want us to give Victoria fifteen million dollars?" Marcus asked incredulously.
"It's not about the money," I said. "It's about what she can do with it. Fifteen million dollars could rebuild the network. Buy influence. Recruit people. Restart everything we destroyed."
"We can't let that happen," Andrew said. "Even to save Emma."
"Emma would agree," Lily said, tears streaming down her face. "She wouldn't want the network rebuilt to save her."
"But we're not going to let her die," I said firmly. "We're going to find her and stop Victoria."
"How?" Declan asked. "Victoria's had months to plan this. She knows how we think. How we investigate. She's always one step ahead."
He was right. Victoria had been part of James's network for decades. She knew all our tactics.
We needed to think differently. Do something unexpected.
"What if we give her what she wants?" I suggested.
"What?" everyone said simultaneously.
"Not really," I clarified. "But make her think we are. Set up a meeting to transfer the accounts. Then grab her when she shows up."
"She won't show up in person," Agent Martinez said. "She'll send intermediaries. Keep herself protected."
"Then we trace the intermediaries back to her," I said.
"That could take time we don't have," Agent Martinez said. "We have less than forty-eight hours."
"Then we work fast," I said.
Agent Martinez coordinated with the FBI's financial crimes unit. They created a fake account transfer that appeared legitimate but would actually trace back to wherever Victoria tried to access the money.
"It's a digital breadcrumb trail," the tech specialist explained. "When Victoria tries to access the funds, we'll trace her location."
"How long will the trace take?" I asked.
"Minutes," the specialist said. "Maybe seconds. We'll have her location almost immediately."
We sent a response to Victoria's email.
We'll transfer the accounts. But only if we see proof Emma is alive and unharmed. Video call. Now.
The response came within minutes.
A video link. I clicked it with shaking hands.
Emma appeared on screen, still bound, but alert. The room behind her was nondescript. No windows. No identifying features.
"Emma," I said. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Emma said, her voice steady despite the fear in her eyes. "Don't give her what she wants. Don't rebuild the network."
"We're getting you out," I said.
"No," Emma said firmly. "Even if you have to let me—"
The video cut off.
Another email: Proof of life provided. Now transfer the accounts. You have twenty-four hours.
"Can we trace where that video came from?" I asked.
The tech specialist was already working. "The video was routed through multiple servers. Encrypted. Bounced around the world. But..." He typed furiously. "I might be able to narrow down the general region."
"How general?" Agent Martinez asked.
"Within a hundred-mile radius," the specialist said. "Maybe less if I can crack some of these encryption layers."
"Do it," Agent Martinez ordered.
While the tech team worked on tracing the video, I thought about Victoria. About what she wanted. About how she thought.
"Victoria said she wants James's legacy," I said to Declan. "What if she means that literally? What if this isn't just about the money?"
"What else would it be about?" Declan asked.
"James kept records of everything," I said. "Evidence against every network member. Every corrupt official. Every crime. What if there are records we never found? Records Victoria wants?"
"All of James's files were seized," Declan said. "We went through everything."
"Everything we found," I corrected. "But James was paranoid. He would have kept backups. Hidden locations."
"Do you think Victoria knows about a hidden cache?" Agent Martinez asked.
"Maybe," I said. "Or maybe she's fishing. Hoping we do."
I thought about everywhere we'd found James's documents over the years. Storage units. Safe deposit boxes. Hidden compartments in his properties.
But there was one place we'd never fully searched. One property that had been sold before we could investigate it thoroughly.
James's hunting cabin in upstate New York.
"The cabin," I said. "James had a cabin he used maybe twice a year. It was sold in the estate settlement. We never searched it."
"Why would he hide anything there?" Declan asked.
"Because no one would think to look," I said. "It was just a hunting cabin. Rustic. Basic. Not the kind of place you'd expect to find important documents."
"But perfect for hiding something you wanted to keep secret," Agent Martinez said.
"Can we search it now?" I asked.
"The property has new owners," Agent Martinez said. "We'd need permission or a warrant."
"Then get a warrant," I said. "Fast."
While Agent Martinez worked on the warrant, I dug up the property records for the cabin. It had been sold to a couple from Albany who used it occasionally on weekends.
The tech specialist finally traced the video. "Got it. The signal originated from somewhere in the Adirondacks. Roughly centered around... Old Forge, New York."
My heart stopped. "Old Forge is twenty miles from where James's cabin is located."
"That's not a coincidence," Agent Martinez said.
Everything clicked into place. Victoria wasn't just holding Emma hostage for money. She was using Emma to force us to reveal the location of James's hidden files.
She was at the cabin. Or near it.
"We need to move now," I said.
"I'll coordinate a tactical team," Agent Martinez said. "We'll hit the cabin and anywhere else within that radius."
"I'm coming," I said.
"Anita, no," Declan said. "This is FBI work. Let them handle it."
"Emma's my family," I said. "I'm not sitting here while they rescue her."
"You're not trained for tactical operations," Agent Martinez said. "You'd be a liability."
"Then I'll stay back," I said. "But I'm going. I need to be there."
Agent Martinez reluctantly agreed. "You stay in the command vehicle. You don't approach until the scene is secured."
I agreed, though I had no intention of staying back if Emma was in danger.
We drove to the Adirondacks in a convoy of FBI vehicles. The cabin was remote, accessible only by a long dirt road through the woods.
"Perfect location for hiding someone," Agent Martinez said. "Miles from anyone. No one would hear screams."
The tactical team surrounded the cabin. Drones surveyed the area. Thermal imaging showed three heat signatures inside the building.
"Three people," the team leader reported. "One appears to be restrained. Probably our hostage."
"The other two?" Agent Martinez asked.
"Unknown. Could be Victoria and an accomplice."
"Move in," Agent Martinez ordered.
I watched from the command vehicle as the tactical team approached the cabin. They moved silently, professionally, surrounding all exits.
Then everything happened at once.
The cabin door exploded outward. Not from the FBI breaching it, but from someone inside detonating explosives.
"Fall back!" the team leader shouted.
The cabin was on fire. Flames erupting from every window.
"Emma's in there," I screamed, jumping from the command vehicle.
Declan grabbed me. "You can't go in there. It's too dangerous."
"Emma's in there!" I struggled against him.
The tactical team was already moving. Despite the fire, they breached the burning building.
Seconds felt like hours.
Then they emerged, carrying two people. Emma, unconscious but breathing. And a man I didn't recognize, badly burned.
"Where's Victoria?" Agent Martinez demanded.
The tactical team went back in, searching. But the fire was too intense. The structure was collapsing.
"No one else inside," the team leader reported. "If Victoria was in there, she's dead."
Emma was rushed to an ambulance. I rode with her to the hospital, holding her hand, willing her to be okay.
She woke up in the emergency room, coughing from smoke inhalation but otherwise unharmed.
"Victoria," Emma gasped. "She escaped. Through a tunnel. Underground."
"Where?" Agent Martinez asked.
"I don't know," Emma said. "She left right before the FBI arrived. Said she had what she needed."
"What did she need?" I asked.
"I don't know," Emma repeated. "She kept talking about James's real legacy. About how we didn't understand what we'd destroyed."
The FBI searched the remains of the cabin. Found a tunnel leading from the basement to a concealed exit half a mile away. Victoria had escaped before they'd even surrounded the building.
"She knew we were coming," Agent Martinez said. "Someone tipped her off."
"Or she was watching for any response to her demands," I said. "She knew we'd try to find Emma."
In the cabin's ruins, the FBI found a safe. Fireproof and intact despite the blaze.
Inside were documents. Not James's blackmail files, but something else.
Birth certificates. Medical records. Adoption papers.
For children. Dozens of children.
"What is this?" I asked, looking through the documents.
Agent Martinez went pale. "I think James Harris had more children than we knew about. A lot more."
The documents detailed children born to various women over a thirty-year span. All with evidence linking them to James Harris. All placed for adoption or raised by their mothers without his involvement.
"How many?" Declan asked, his voice hollow.
"At least twenty," Agent Martinez said, counting the files. "Maybe more if these aren't complete records."
"Twenty half-siblings," Liam said, stunned.
"That we know about," I said. "There could be others with no documentation."
"Why would James keep these records?" Marcus asked.
"Control," I said. "Even if he didn't raise these children, he knew about them. Tracked them. Maybe planned to use them someday."
"Or Victoria planned to use them," Agent Martinez said. "These files give her leverage. Twenty people who don't know they're connected to James Harris. Twenty people who could be manipulated."
"We need to find them," I said. "Warn them. Before Victoria does."
"That's going to take months," Agent Martinez said. "Some of these children are adults now. Scattered across the country. Different names. Different lives."
"Then we'd better get started," I said.
But first, we had to find Victoria.
The FBI launched a massive manhunt. Every resource devoted to locating her.
But Victoria had vanished. No credit card use. No phone activity. No trace.
"She planned this perfectly," Agent Martinez said. "She's been preparing for months. Maybe years."
"What's her endgame?" I asked. "What does she want with all of James's children?"
"I don't know," Agent Martinez admitted. "But whatever it is, it can't be good."
We started the process of identifying and locating James's other children. The FBI worked with adoption agencies, medical facilities, and local law enforcement.
Some of the children were easy to find. Others had changed names, moved multiple times, or disappeared into the system.
"This is going to take forever," Emma said, frustrated.
"We don't have forever," I said. "Victoria's out there planning something."
Two weeks into the search, one of James's unknown children contacted us first.
Her name was Rebecca Morrison, a thirty-two-year-old teacher in Oregon. She'd done an ancestry DNA test and discovered her biological father was James Harris.
"I don't understand," Rebecca said when she called. "My mother never told me who my father was. Now I find out it's a criminal? That I have siblings I never knew about?"
"We're trying to contact everyone," I explained. "To make sure you know the truth. And to protect you."
"Protect me from what?" Rebecca asked.
Before I could answer, Rebecca screamed.
The line went dead.
I called her back. No answer.
I called the local police in Oregon. Asked them to do a wellness check at Rebecca's address.
"Officers are on scene," the dispatcher told me twenty minutes later. "No one's home. But there are signs of a struggle. Blood. Broken furniture. We're treating it as a possible kidnapping."
Victoria had taken another one of James's children.
"She's collecting them," I said to Agent Martinez. "She's kidnapping James's children one by one."
"Why?" Agent Martinez asked.
"I don't know," I said. "But we need to find out before she takes all of them."
We increased protection for the known children. Put alerts out for the ones we hadn't found yet.
But Victoria was always one step ahead.
Over the next month, four more of James's children disappeared. All vanished without a trace. All taken before we could protect them.
"She's building something," I said, reviewing the pattern. "Victoria's not just kidnapping randomly. She's selecting specific people."
"What's the selection criteria?" Agent Martinez asked.
I looked at the files of the taken children. "They're all in positions of influence. Rebecca was a teacher. The second victim was a social worker. The third was a journalist. The fourth was a police officer. The fifth was a city council member."
"People who can affect change," Agent Martinez said. "People with access and influence."
"Victoria's rebuilding the network," I said. "But smarter this time. Using James's children. People with his genetics. People she can manipulate."
"But they don't know they're his children," Agent Martinez said. "How does she plan to control them?"
Another email arrived. From Victoria.
You're starting to understand. James's real legacy isn't money or power. It's genetics. He created dozens of children. Spread his DNA across the country. And now I'm going to use them to build something greater than James ever imagined.
A network run by people with his intelligence. His ruthlessness. His gift for manipulation.
You can't stop me. Because I have an army of Harris children who don't even know what they're capable of yet.
But I'm going to show them.
The message was chilling. Victoria wasn't just kidnapping people. She was trying to create a new generation of criminals. Using James's children as her foundation.
"She's insane," Declan said.
"She's brilliant," I corrected. "And terrifying. Because what if she's right? What if there is something genetic in James's children? Something that predisposes them to manipulation and control?"
"There isn't," Declan said firmly. "We've all proven that. Every one of James's children who knows their heritage has rejected criminality."
"Because we knew about it," I said. "We made conscious choices. But what about the ones who don't know? The ones Victoria can manipulate?"
It was a horrifying thought. That somewhere out there were people with James Harris's genetics who could be turned into criminals without even realizing they were following in their father's footsteps.
"We have to stop her," I said. "Before she corrupts all of them."
"How?" Agent Martinez asked. "We don't even know where she is."
"Then we find her," I said. "The same way we've found everyone else. We investigate. We dig. We don't stop until we have answers."
I was about to suggest our next steps when my phone rang.
It was an unknown number.
I answered. "Hello?"
"Mrs. Harris," a familiar voice said. "It's been a long time."
The voice was impossible. The person was dead.
"Diana?" I whispered.
"Not quite," the voice said. "But close. You see, there's one more secret about James Harris that you never discovered. One more child you never found."
"Who is this?" I demanded.
"Someone who's been watching you for a very long time," the voice said. "Someone who's going to finish what James started. And there's nothing you can do to stop me."
The line went dead.
I stood frozen, the phone still pressed to my ear.
Because I'd recognized that voice. Not as Diana's, though it sounded similar.
But as someone else's.
Someone I'd thought I could trust.
Someone who'd been part of our family all along.