Chapter 3 - SIX SONGS
We reached my mother's apartment at 11:08.
The front door was open.
My heart stopped.
“Mom?”
No answer.
I ran inside.
Adrian caught my arm.
“Wait.”
“That's my mother.”
“And whoever took Owen knows that.”
He entered first.
No body.
No blood.
The apartment had been searched.
Drawers emptied.
Cushions cut.
My mother's old upright piano stood open.
Every sheet of music was gone.
Except one.
“Clair de Lune.”
Owen's favorite.
Vanessa picked it up.
“Why leave this?”
I stared at the notes.
Then noticed pencil marks.
Tiny numbers beside certain measures.
My father's handwriting.
Adrian leaned closer.
“What are they?”
“Not music.”
I photographed them.
Six sequences.
They looked like dates.
But Vanessa saw it.
“Bank routing numbers.”
The trail led not to money but to six charitable foundations.
One funded hospitals.
One children's housing.
One kidney treatment.
My stomach twisted.
“Owen's clinic.”
Adrian looked at me.
Someone had deliberately approved Owen's expensive treatment grants for years.
My family believed charity was keeping him alive.
It was actually hush money.
Then my phone rang.
Owen.
I answered.
“OWEN?”
A man spoke.
“Midnight tomorrow.”
My blood froze.
“Let me talk to him.”
“You have something Thomas Bennett stole.”
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
“Yes, you do.”
The line clicked.
Owen came on.
“Mara?”
I started crying.
“I'm here.”
His voice was weak.
“They missed my medication.”
“Listen to me. You're coming home.”
“Mara—”
“I promise.”
A blow sounded.
Owen cried out.
I screamed.
The stranger returned.
“Bring the original music to Union Station.”
“We don't have it.”
“Then your brother dies.”
The call ended.
I turned toward Adrian.
“I'll go.”
“No.”
“You don't get a vote.”
“You walk into Union Station alone and they kill you after taking whatever you bring.”
“Then give me a better plan.”
Adrian stared at me.
For the first time, the feared man in Chicago had nothing to say.
Vanessa did.
“We don't give them the music.”
I looked at her.
“What do we give them?”
She picked up my father's sheet.
May you like
“A lie convincing enough to make them show us where Owen is.”
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