Chapter 7: The Hunt Begins
The note lay on Vincent Moretti's desk long after everyone else had left the room.
Please don't stop looking for us.
The handwriting belonged to a child.
Small.
Careful.
Hopeful.
It reminded Vincent of the crayon drawing Lucy had left inside Peter Pan. These children still believed someone would come for them.
He refused to let that belief die.
At dawn, Bellarosa Manor transformed from a mansion into a command center.
Satellite maps covered the walls.
Security footage streamed across six monitors.
Marco directed teams from a long conference table while technicians traced phone records connected to the warehouses.
Vincent stood silently before the map of Chicago.
Every location connected to the ledger formed an unusual pattern.
Not random.
A circle.
All roads pointed toward one district.
The South Branch Industrial Corridor.
Marco noticed it too.
"They're building a perimeter."
"No," Vincent replied.
"They're protecting something."
Father Thomas arrived carrying an old leather journal.
"I remembered another name."
Vincent looked up.
"The girl who disappeared seventeen years ago?"
The priest nodded.
"Grace Holloway wasn't the only child."
He opened the journal to a faded newspaper clipping.
Five Children Missing Within Two Months
Every disappearance occurred within five miles of the old steel district.
Vincent frowned.
"This has been happening for nearly two decades."
Father Thomas sighed.
"Maybe longer."
Meanwhile, upstairs, Emma was helping Ava settle into one of the guest rooms.
The younger girl still startled whenever a door closed.
Buddy refused to leave her side.
Emma smiled gently.
"He likes you."
Ava scratched behind the puppy's ears.
"He remembers."
"Remembers what?"
"The tunnels."
Emma stopped.
"What tunnels?"
Ava's face changed.
"The rooms underground."
Vincent, who had just entered the hallway, heard every word.
He knelt beside her.
"What tunnels?"
"They made us walk through them."
"Where?"
"I don't know."
"They were cold."
She closed her eyes.
"I remember trains."
Marco immediately looked toward Vincent.
"Railroad tunnels."
Chicago had dozens of abandoned freight tunnels beneath the city.
Within the hour, Vincent dispatched scouting teams.
Not to warehouses.
To forgotten rail lines.
Old maintenance passages.
Underground service corridors.
If Ava remembered correctly...
The traffickers had another hidden network.
By noon, one scout radioed in.
"Boss..."
"I'm listening."
"We found something."
"Location?"
"Abandoned freight tunnel beneath the old Fulton switching yard."
"What did you find?"
The scout hesitated.
"Children's footprints."
Fresh ones.
Vincent arrived twenty minutes later.
The tunnel entrance hid behind rusted maintenance doors beneath a collapsed railway platform.
Flashlights pierced the darkness.
The air smelled of damp concrete and rust.
Marco examined the ground.
"At least fifteen children."
"Recent?"
"Within twenty-four hours."
Buddy suddenly pulled against Noah's leash.
The puppy sniffed the floor.
Then bolted deeper into the tunnel.
"Buddy!" Noah shouted.
The little dog ignored him.
Vincent followed.
The tunnel opened into a massive underground junction.
Empty cages.
Discarded blankets.
Medical supplies.
The traffickers had left in a hurry.
But not empty-handed.
On one wall...
A child had scratched words into the concrete using a broken nail.
WE WERE HERE.
Below it...
Twenty-three tiny handprints covered the wall.
Every child had left one behind.
Vincent placed his own hand beside them.
Quietly.
"I'll find you."
Suddenly, Marco called from another chamber.
"Boss!"
Inside lay dozens of cardboard boxes.
Not weapons.
Not money.
Children's belongings.
Thousands of photographs.
School report cards.
Birth certificates.
Family albums.
Lives.
Organized into neat files.
Richard Calloway hadn't stolen children.
He had erased them.
One folder caught Vincent's attention.
Emma.
Lucy.
Noah.
Everything about them.
Parents.
Schools.
Medical records.
Even birthdays.
Marco whispered,
"They've been watching these kids for years."
Vincent slowly closed the folder.
"This wasn't random."
A metallic click echoed behind them.
Everyone spun around.
A loudspeaker crackled to life.
Richard Calloway's calm voice filled the underground chamber.
"Good afternoon, Vincent."
Every weapon immediately aimed toward the speakers.
Richard chuckled softly.
"I wouldn't waste the ammunition."
"Where are the children?" Vincent demanded.
"They're safe."
"You call this safe?"
"I call it necessary."
Vincent's voice hardened.
"You've spent twenty years stealing lives."
"And you've spent twenty years taking them."
Silence.
Richard continued.
"The difference between us is surprisingly small."
Vincent stepped closer to the speaker.
"No."
"You hurt children."
Richard sighed.
"You're beginning to change."
"I expected that puppy would do exactly this."
Vincent froze.
"You knew about Buddy."
"I knew he'd escape eventually."
The room fell silent.
Richard's next words chilled everyone.
"I let him."
Marco stared at Vincent.
"What?"
Richard continued speaking.
"Buddy always found his way back."
"This time I simply stopped chasing him."
Vincent felt anger rising.
"You used a wounded puppy."
"I used your conscience."
The loudspeaker clicked.
"For a man who built an empire through fear..."
Richard laughed quietly.
"...you're surprisingly predictable."
The speakers went silent.
Then...
A timer began counting down.
00:05:00
Marco's eyes widened.
"Bomb!"
Everyone scattered.
Vincent grabbed Ava's folder.
Marco seized the ledger boxes.
The countdown echoed through the tunnels.
Four minutes.
Three.
They sprinted toward the exit.
Buddy suddenly stopped.
Growling.
Scratching at another steel door hidden behind broken pipes.
Vincent turned.
"What is it?"
The puppy barked desperately.
Again.
Again.
Vincent ignored the countdown.
He pulled the rusted handle.
Locked.
Marco shouted,
"We have two minutes!"
Vincent fired twice into the lock.
The door swung open.
Inside...
A tiny room.
Dark.
Silent.
Then...
A weak voice.
"Hello?"
Flashlights swept across the chamber.
Three children blinked against the light.
They had been left behind.
Locked inside.
One little girl hugged Vincent before he could speak.
"I knew someone would come."
Marco looked at the timer.
One minute.
Vincent lifted the smallest child into his arms.
"Run!"
The team raced through the tunnels.
Thirty seconds.
Twenty.
Ten.
They burst from the entrance just as the ground erupted behind them.
The explosion shook the abandoned rail yard.
Concrete collapsed.
Smoke poured into the afternoon sky.
The tunnel was gone.
Hours later, the rescued children rested safely inside Bellarosa Manor.
One little boy refused to release Vincent's hand.
"You really came."
Vincent smiled faintly.
"I told you I would."
The boy reached into his pocket.
"I found this."
He handed Vincent a tiny silver key.
"They said never to lose it."
Marco examined the key.
"It's not ordinary."
Engraved on one side was a symbol Vincent had seen only once before.
Inside Richard Calloway's ledger.
The same strange crest.
On the reverse...
A number.
17.
No words.
Just the number.
Vincent turned the key over in his hand.
He had the unmistakable feeling that it didn't open a lock.
May you like
It opened the final chapter of a secret that had been buried for nearly twenty years.
And somewhere across Chicago, Richard Calloway smiled as another phase of his plan quietly began.
