Chapter 3 - THE PICTURE NOAH DREW WITH A BLACK CRAYON
The next morning Clara found Noah under the breakfast table.
Mrs. Hargrove stood nearby.
“Come out.”
Noah pressed himself against the floor.
She reached for him.
He bit her hand.
Hargrove slapped him.
Once.
Fast.
Clara froze.
So did Noah.
The entire kitchen stopped.
Mrs. Hargrove immediately looked around.
“Get him away.”
Clara stepped between them.
“You hit him.”
“He bit me.”
“He’s four.”
“He’s feral.”
Noah crawled behind Clara.
That mattered.
For the first time, he chose an adult for protection.
Dominic entered seconds later.
“What happened?”
Hargrove answered first.
“He attacked me.”
Clara said:
“She slapped him.”
Silence.
Dominic looked at Hargrove.
“Did you?”
“He bit me.”
“That wasn't my question.”
Her face changed.
“Yes.”
Dominic’s voice became cold.
“Leave the room.”
“Mr. Vale—”
“Now.”
She left.
Noah watched.
Dominic approached.
Noah immediately retreated.
Clara saw it.
“Stop.”
Dominic looked at her.
“Excuse me?”
“Don't move closer.”
His face hardened.
“My son.”
“Yes.”
“And he’s scared of you right now.”
Dominic looked wounded before he could hide it.
He stopped.
Clara crouched.
“Noah.”
She placed paper on the floor.
Black crayon.
Noah emerged slowly.
He began drawing.
A road.
A black car.
A woman.
A second car.
Three figures.
One wore a pearl at the neck.
Another tall.
Another had a square object.
Then red.
All over the page.
Dominic stared.
“What is this?”
Clara said:
“I think it's the night his mother died.”
Dominic’s face drained.
“No.”
Noah reacted to the word.
He screamed.
Then grabbed another crayon.
Blue.
He drew a woman lying down.
Then a box beside her.
Square.
Clara pointed.
“Phone?”
Noah shook his head violently.
He drew lines coming from it.
Dominic whispered:
“Camera.”
Noah stopped.
Looked at him.
Then nodded.
Dominic’s entire posture changed.
“Who had a camera that night?”
He began pacing.
His wife, Elena Vale, had supposedly died during a roadside ambush while returning from a charity gala.
The official story:
Her driver was killed.
Elena caught in crossfire.
Noah was in the rear seat and survived.
Security footage from the vehicle had been destroyed.
No usable witnesses.
Noah stopped speaking after.
Dominic killed half of Chicago looking for whoever ordered it.
The investigation led toward rival crews.
At least that was what he had been told.
Clara pointed to the square.
“Maybe the camera survived.”
Dominic looked at her.
“Police searched everything.”
“Did your people?”
“Yes.”
“Mrs. Hargrove?”
He stared.
“She coordinated household evidence after Elena died.”
There.
Clara asked:
“What exactly is the north wing?”
Dominic turned cold again.
“Off limits.”
“Why?”
“My wife’s rooms.”
Noah heard that.
He stood.
Then ran.
Toward the north wing.
Dominic followed.
So did Clara.
At the locked double doors, Noah began pounding.
He pointed inside.
Then at the camera drawing.
Again.
Inside.
The missing camera was in the one place everyone had been forbidden to enter.
May you like
Elena’s rooms.
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