Chapter 4 - Forty-Eight HoursOlivia had one daughter.
Olivia hit the pavement.
Behind her, people screamed.
Smoke blasted from the bakery’s rear windows as an orange flash swallowed the kitchen.
For several seconds, Olivia could hear nothing but a high ringing tone.
Then training took over.
“Mia!”
She scrambled upright.
The bakery entrance was filled with smoke.
Officer Hale emerged carrying Mia in both arms.
“I’ve got her!”
“Sophie?”
“Paramedics were already outside with her!”
“Frank?”
Marcus stopped.
Olivia knew before he answered.
“He was closest to the kitchen.”
They rushed back in.
Frank Danner lay beneath a collapsed shelving unit.
Blood streaked one side of his face.
He was alive.
Barely.
Olivia knelt beside him.
“Frank.”
His eyes fluttered.
“Who did this?”
He coughed.
“Too late.”
“Who?”
Another cough.
“Crown.”
“What does that mean?”
His eyes rolled toward her.
“Red crown.”
Then he lost consciousness.
Firefighters dragged him out.
Olivia remained in the smoke-filled bakery staring at the shattered rear wall.
The explosion had not been random.
Someone had known exactly where to strike.
The blast destroyed the basement stairwell.
More importantly, it destroyed the workbench containing the ledger, phones, clothing, and photographs.
Or tried to.
Olivia ran downstairs.
Smoke curled across the ceiling.
The far wall had collapsed inward.
But several pieces of evidence remained.
Including one prepaid phone beneath a metal cabinet.
Olivia photographed it in place before lifting it.
The screen was cracked.
One message remained visible.
12:00.
DELIVERY FAILED.
CLEAN THE SHOP.
Olivia stared at the words.
Someone had planned this in advance.
Someone powerful enough to monitor the bakery and detonate an explosive within minutes of police arrival.
She stepped outside.
Marcus met her.
“Van’s heading east.”
“Units still behind it?”
“Two patrols and state police.”
“Get me a helicopter.”
“Already requested.”
Sophie and Mia were being loaded into separate ambulances.
Mia resisted.
“No!”
Olivia approached.
“She doesn’t want to leave her sister,” the paramedic said.
“Put them together.”
“Hospital policy—”
“Together.”
The paramedic looked at Olivia’s face and stopped arguing.
Mia climbed beside Sophie.
Before the doors closed, she reached toward Olivia.
“Detective?”
Olivia stepped closer.
Mia whispered, “There were more girls.”
Olivia’s chest tightened.
“In the basement?”
“No.”
“Where?”
Mia shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
“How do you know?”
“Frank would talk to someone on the phone.”
“What did he say?”
Mia closed her eyes.
“He said Sophie was number twelve.”
The ambulance doors closed.
Olivia stood still.
Number twelve.
Not victim twelve.
Inventory twelve.
Her phone rang.
State police.
“We’ve got the van.”
“Where?”
“Industrial district. Driver bailed near the river.”
“And the child?”
Silence.
Olivia’s blood ran cold.
“What child?”
“There’s no child inside.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Van is empty.”
Olivia drove there herself.
The abandoned vehicle sat crooked between two warehouses.
Rear doors open.
Empty cargo bay.
But on the floor lay one broken plastic zip tie.
And a tiny pink hair clip.
Olivia crouched.
There was blood beside it.
Not much.
Enough.
Marcus arrived minutes later.
“They transferred her.”
“Where?”
“Could’ve been anywhere.”
Olivia walked toward the river.
Security cameras covered nearly every warehouse.
“We pull all footage.”
Marcus hesitated.
“What?”
“There was a second vehicle.”
“What kind?”
“Gray SUV. Camera caught it leaving the alley ninety seconds before the van reached the intersection.”
“Plate?”
“Obscured.”
“Direction?”
“Downtown.”
Olivia stared at the skyline.
Chicago.
Millions of people.
Tens of thousands of vehicles.
One missing child.
Maybe many.
Then Marcus’s phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed.
“What?”
He listened.
Then slowly looked at Olivia.
“That was the hospital.”
“Sophie?”
“She woke up.”
Olivia exhaled.
“And?”
“She keeps saying one name.”
“What name?”
“Mr. Crown.”
Olivia looked toward the river.
“Frank said red crown.”
“Could be the same person.”
“It is.”
At the hospital, Sophie Carter looked far younger than eleven.
She was pale and exhausted, IV tubing taped to her arm.
Mia slept curled beside her.
Olivia sat near the bed.
“Sophie, I need to ask you about Mr. Crown.”
The girl’s eyes filled with terror.
“He’ll come.”
“No. Police are here.”
“He always comes.”
“Who is he?”
Sophie swallowed.
“I never saw his face.”
“How do you know his name?”
“Frank called him that.”
“What did Mr. Crown do?”
“He chose girls.”
Olivia felt her stomach twist.
“For what?”
Sophie shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
“Did he choose you?”
A tear rolled down Sophie’s cheek.
“Yes.”
“Why are you still here?”
Sophie whispered, “Because Mia came.”
Olivia frowned.
Sophie explained.
Weeks after Sophie disappeared, Mia began searching alone.
She followed rumors.
Asked homeless people.
Watched Frank’s bakery because Sophie had once mentioned receiving free pastries there after school.
Mia eventually saw Frank carrying Sophie’s backpack into his car.
She confronted him.
He grabbed her.
But Mia escaped.
For three weeks she hid near the bakery, searching for a way inside.
She had been stealing scraps behind restaurants to survive.
Today, she entered intending to reach the basement.
The loaf was supposed to be a distraction.
Olivia looked at the sleeping nine-year-old.
This child had done what an entire police department had failed to do.
“Why did Frank keep Sophie after Mr. Crown chose her?”
Sophie stared at the blanket.
“Because Frank lied.”
“About what?”
“He told Mr. Crown I was sick.”
“Why?”
Sophie began trembling.
Olivia waited.
Finally Sophie whispered, “Because he wanted more money.”
Everything stopped.
“More money?”
Sophie nodded.
“He was going to sell me to someone else.”
Olivia shut her eyes briefly.
Frank was not protecting her.
He was negotiating.
Sophie grabbed Olivia’s wrist.
“There’s a house.”
“What house?”
“Where Mr. Crown keeps the others.”
Olivia leaned forward.
“Do you know where?”
“No.”
“Anything about it?”
Sophie thought.
“Trains.”
“You heard trains?”
She nodded.
“And bells.”
“Church bells?”
“I think so.”
“Anything else?”
Sophie’s face tightened with concentration.
“There was a red door.”
Olivia wrote everything down.
Then Sophie whispered, “And a lion.”
Olivia stopped.
“A real lion?”
“No.”
“A picture?”
“Stone.”
Olivia and Marcus exchanged a look.
A building near train tracks.
Church bells.
Red door.
Stone lion.
Chicago had thousands.
Then Mia woke.
She heard the last sentence.
Her voice was groggy.
“I know where it is.”
Olivia turned.
Mia sat upright.
“I followed Frank once.”
Sophie stared at her.
“You did?”
Mia nodded.
“He drove to a big house near the old train bridge.”
“Which bridge?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can you describe it?”
“Green metal.”
Marcus pulled up maps.
“There are several.”
Mia leaned forward.
“There was a church across the street.”
“Name?”
“I couldn’t read all of it.”
“What could you read?”
Mia closed her eyes.
“Saint... something.”
Olivia almost laughed bitterly.
Half the city’s churches began with Saint.
Then Mia added, “There was a picture of a red bird on the sign.”
Marcus froze.
“Red bird?”
Olivia looked at him.
He turned the phone toward her.
St. Cardinal Community Church.
Across from an abandoned historic residence near the Ashland freight tracks.
The house had been vacant publicly for years.
Its entrance was flanked by stone lions.
Olivia stood.
“Get tactical.”
Marcus was already dialing.
Thirty-five minutes later, police surrounded the property.
The house looked dead.
Boards on several windows.
Weeds.
Rusting gate.
Red front door.
Stone lions.
Olivia stared at it.
This was it.
Tactical officers breached.
Room by room.
Empty.
Kitchen empty.
Bedrooms empty.
Basement—
Marcus shouted from below.
“Olivia!”
She ran.
The basement was enormous.
Rows of narrow beds.
Children’s clothing.
Bottled water.
Medical supplies.
But no children.
On one wall someone had written twelve numbers.
1 through 12.
Number 12 had been crossed out.
Sophie.
Numbers 1 through 11 remained.
Olivia touched the wall.
“Where are they?”
Marcus turned toward a desk.
On it sat an old cassette recorder.
One red button blinked.
PLAY.
Olivia pressed it.
A distorted male voice filled the room.
“Detective Reed.”
Every officer froze.
The recording continued.
“If you are hearing this, then Frank failed.”
Olivia felt ice slide through her veins.
“The girls are no longer here.”
Pause.
“You have forty-eight hours.”
Another pause.
“Stop searching, and they live.”
Olivia stepped closer.
“Continue...”
The voice became almost amused.
“And they disappear forever.”
The tape clicked.
Then one final sentence played.
“Oh, Detective?”
May you like
Olivia stared at the machine.
“I know where your daughter goes to school.”
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