Below it, the message read:
Come alone to the abandoned furniture warehouse on South Loomis by 8 p.m. Or next time, the child disappears for good.
The last line made my blood go cold.
You ruined my family. Now I’ll ruin yours. —V
Vivian.
I called Nathaniel.
“Do not go,” he said immediately. “This is a trap.”
“I know.”
“Grace.”
“She threatened Lily again.”
“The police can handle it.”
“No,” I said, grabbing my coat. “The police can arrest her. But I need her to confess.”
“Grace, listen to me.”
“I’ll record everything. Send the police. Give me ten minutes.”
He cursed under his breath.
“Five,” he said. “You get five minutes.”
I drove through sheets of rain toward the industrial district, my phone recording in my pocket, my hands steady on the wheel.
For years, they had mistaken my silence for weakness.
That night, they were going to learn the difference.
PART 5
The abandoned warehouse smelled like wet wood, gasoline, and old dust.
Rain hammered the metal roof. Broken windows rattled in the wind. Somewhere in the dark, water dripped steadily into a bucket or a hole or the open mouth of something rotten.
“Vivian!” I called.
A lighter clicked.
A small flame appeared near the center of the warehouse.
Vivian Sterling stood beside a pile of torn furniture and soaked rags, her white hair loose, her expensive coat stained with rain. In one hand, she held the lighter. In the other, a heavy wrench.
The woman who had once ruled ballrooms and charity boards looked like a ghost that had escaped its own portrait.
“You destroyed him,” she said.
“No. Everett destroyed himself.”
“You filthy little nobody.” Her voice cracked. “My son was building an empire before you came along with your cheap dresses and hungry eyes.”
“Your son lied, cheated, bribed officials, hid money, and used children as props.”
“He is a Sterling!”
“He is a criminal.”
Vivian screamed and swung the wrench against a wooden chair. It shattered.
“You think you won because some lawyer taught you big words?” she spat. “You think that little girl of yours will grow up safe? I know schools. I know judges. I know people everywhere.”
“Not anymore,” I said.
She laughed, high and broken. “You really believe the world protects women like you?”
“No,” I replied. “That’s why I learned to protect myself.”
Her eyes narrowed.
I stepped slowly closer, keeping my hand near my phone. “Tell me the truth, Vivian. You took Lily to force me to withdraw the complaints.”
“She was leverage.”
The word came out clean.
Leverage.
My stomach turned.
“She is a child.”