Chapter 119 #37: Watch Me
When I walk back into the living room, Sel is at the kitchen counter with my laptop open. Marcus stands by the window holding a phone to his ear.
Maya's voice comes through the speaker the second I sit down. "Nora. I got the scans you sent of the ledger pages. It's encrypted, but not impossible. Give me thirty minutes and I'll have the first layer decoded."
"Make it twenty," I say.
She doesn't argue. "I'm running the names through every database I have access to. If Vincent was fixated on any particular entry, it'll show up in his recent activity. Bank transfers, property records, burner phone pings. Anything."
"Good. And Maya?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet. Just stay alive until we get your pumpkin out of this."
The call ends and I frown a little. Before I can overthink it, Sel speaks. "We need to assume Vincent has already moved her. He wouldn't stay in the city after what happened at the pier."
Marcus lowers his phone. "My guys are checking every property tied to Reid Global subsidiaries. Warehouses, safe houses, even private residences under shell companies. If he used company funds to set up a hideout, it'll show."
Sel nods. "And if he didn't?"
"Then we go back to the ledger," I say. "Vincent wanted it for a reason. Whatever name or debt he's chasing, that's where he'll feel safest."
Twenty minutes later Maya's voice crackles through the speaker again.
"Got it. Three transactions stand out. All within the last six months. First is a wire transfer to a shell company in the Caymans that owns a property in the Hudson Valley. Second is a cash withdrawal from a private vault in Midtown. Third is a fuel purchase for a helicopter registered to a holding company that traces back to Vincent's personal accounts."
I lean forward. "The helicopter?"
"Last logged flight was two nights ago. Take-off from a private pad in Westchester. No return logged. The Hudson Valley property is a hunting lodge. Remote. Forty acres. No neighbours for miles."
Marcus is already pulling up satellite images on his phone. "I know that area. Easy to defend. Hard to approach without being seen."
I stand. "Then that's where he is."
Sel looks at me. "We need a plan. Not just guns and guts. If Lucy's there, we can't risk a firefight."
"Agreed," Marcus says. "Maya, can you get us blueprints or security schematics?"
"Working on it. Give me ten."
I walk to the closet and pull out the black tactical vest I bought after the first break-in. I strap it on over my sweater, check the fit, then load two spare magazines for the gun at my back.
Sel watches me. “You can’t possibly be thinking about going in there too."
"Watch me."
Marcus sighs from across the room. "Nora–"
"Don't." I cut him off. "My daughter is in a hunting lodge with a man who pulled a gun on me two weeks ago and who may or may not have been planning to kill me for years. I am not sitting in a waiting room while other people go to save her. I am going. End of discussion."
He opens his mouth, closes it, then looks at Sel.
She shrugs. "She's right. I'd do the same."
Marcus rubs a hand over his face. "David would kill me if he knew I let you walk into this."
"Then don't tell him." I pick up another gun from the table – a compact nine-millimetre Marcus brought with him – check the magazine, rack the slide, and tuck it into the holster at my ankle. "He'll be angry when he wakes up, but at least he'll be alive. He can yell at me then. After we bring Lucy home."
"Well, I always wanted an epic death," Sel says standing. "I'll come with you. Marcus, get your team on comms. I'll handle medical if we need it. Nora, you call the shots on approach. This is your kid."
I nod once.
Maya's voice comes through again. "Blueprints incoming. Security is minimal. A few motion sensors on the perimeter, two exterior cameras, one at the front door. No live guards visible on satellite. Vincent probably thinks he's safe because no one knows about the place."
Marcus's phone pings with the files. He opens them, and spreads them across the coffee table. We gather around.
The lodge is a two-story log structure with a wraparound porch and large windows facing the woods. One main road in, but multiple trails through the trees. A helicopter pad fifty yards behind the house.
"Approach from the east," I say, pointing. "Through the tree line. We stay off the road. Marcus, your team takes the perimeter, disables cameras and sensors. Sel, you and I go in through the back. We find Lucy first. Extraction is priority one. Vincent is secondary."
Marcus nods. "We leave in fifteen. Gear up."
I walk to the bedroom and grab the small backpack I keep packed for emergencies – water, first aid, flashlight, zip ties, knife. I sling it over my shoulder and return to the living room.
Sel is checking her own weapon. Marcus is on the phone with his team, giving quiet orders.
I stop in the doorway and look at them.
"Thank you," I say. "Both of you. For being here and for doing this."
Sel walks over and hugs me tight. "Family doesn't ask for thanks."
Marcus finishes his call. "Wheels up in ten. Let's move."
We head for the door.
I pause at the threshold and glance back at Lucy's room one last time. Her bear is still on the pillow. I walk over, pick it up, and tuck it into my backpack.
She'll want it when we bring her home.
Marcus holds the door open. Sel steps through first. I follow. The hallway is quiet, the elevator ride down is silent.
When the doors open in the garage, three black SUVs are waiting with their engines running. Four men in tactical gear stand beside them.
Marcus nods to them. "Load up!"
Then he turns to me hesitantly, “Nora, you could sit this one out and we–“
“I love you, Marcus,” I say. “But tell me to stay behind one more time and I’ll use you as target practice and hope Sel forgives me."
With that, I climb into the lead vehicle with Sel, and the others follow in the second SUV. Marcus sighs and joins in.
As we pull out of the garage and into the night, I look at my hands, at David's blood is still under my nails. I curl them into fists, then lean my head against the window and close my eyes.
Four days.
We have four days to bring my daughter home.
The convoy speeds toward the highway and it's all I can do not to let the tears fall.
“Hold on, baby,” I whisper, “Mommy's coming.”