PART 3

   Then she reached into her backpack.

“Grandpa…”

“What is it?”

She pulled out a folded piece of paper.

Her fingers were shaking so badly that the paper rattled.

“I need you to read this.”

I took it.

The handwriting was not Lily’s.

It was an adult’s handwriting.

And the moment I saw the first line, something inside my chest tightened.

1. HAIL—IF LILY GIVES YOU THIS, DO NOT TAKE HER HOME.

I looked at Lily. “Who gave you this?”

She shook her head.

“I can’t say here.”

I glanced at Ortega.

He had been watching us from several feet away.

His expression had changed.

He looked less like a security officer dealing with a frightened child and more like a man who had just realized something was much bigger than an elevator.

I folded the paper and slipped it into my jacket. “Okay,” I said softly. “We’re going somewhere private.”

Lily immediately grabbed my hand.

“No.”

I stopped.

She looked toward the security desk.

“Not there.”

“Why?”

“Because he can hear.”

“Who?”

She whispered the answer.

“Daddy.”

I felt the blood drain from my face.

I looked across the lobby.

Grant wasn’t there.

At least, I didn’t see him.

But Lily kept staring toward the elevators.

“Lily, your father isn’t here.”

“He was.”

“When?”

“This morning.”

My stomach tightened.

“Why were you here?”

She didn’t answer.

“Lily?”

She finally looked up at me.

“Daddy told Mommy not to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

Her eyes filled with tears.

“Mommy tried.”

That sentence hit me harder than anything else.

“What did she try to tell me?”

Lily pressed her lips together.

Then she looked at Ortega.

“Can he stay?”

Ortega stepped closer.

“You can trust me.”

Lily stared at him for several seconds.

Then she nodded.

Ortega gestured toward a small security office behind the reception area.

“Come on.”

We entered the room.

It was tiny, with three monitors covering one wall and a desk beneath them. Ortega locked the door behind us.

Lily sat in the chair beside me.

I noticed she was still holding my hand.

Ortega pulled another chair over.

“I want you to understand something,” he said. “I called your grandfather because your granddaughter specifically asked me to. But I didn’t call him simply because she refused to leave the elevator.”

He looked at me.

“She told me something happened upstairs.”

“Where?”

“Twenty-seventh floor.” My heart sank. “That’s Grant’s office.”

Ortega nodded.

“I know.”

I stared at him.

“How do you know?”

“Because I checked the building directory.”

He turned one of the monitors toward me.

A camera feed showed the twenty-seventh-floor hallway. Nothing moved.

“Your granddaughter came into the building at 2:37 p.m.”

“With whom?”

“Alone.”

“That doesn’t make sense. She should have been at school.”

“Exactly.”

Ortega changed the camera.

Another feed appeared.

The lobby.

Lily entered through the revolving doors carrying her purple backpack.

She looked around.

Then she walked directly toward the elevators.

I watched the timestamp.

2:37.

“Where was her father?”

“We don’t know.”

“Did anyone accompany her?”

“No.”

I leaned closer to the screen.

“Wait.”

Ortega paused the video.

“What?”

“Zoom in.”

He enlarged the image.

A man was standing near the revolving doors.

He wore a gray baseball cap and dark jacket.

His face was partially hidden.

He was watching Lily.

I pointed at him.

“Who is that?”

“We don’t know.”

“Can you identify him?”

“Not yet.”

Ortega changed cameras.

The man followed Lily toward the elevators.

My jaw clenched.

“Why didn’t anyone stop him?”

“He didn’t enter the elevator.”

“Then what did he do?”

“He stood outside.”

The video continued.

Lily entered Elevator Three.

The doors began closing.

The man stepped toward them.

Then Lily suddenly reached out and pressed the door-open button.

The doors reopened.

She looked directly at the man.

Then she stepped backward.

The man stopped.

The elevator doors closed.

He walked away.

Ortega paused the footage.

“That’s when I first became concerned.”

“Why?”

“Because ten minutes later, your granddaughter asked to speak to security.”

I looked at Lily. “What did you tell him?”

She stared at the floor.

“I told him I needed my lighthouse.”

I squeezed her hand.

“Then what happened?”

“I waited.”

“For me?”

She nodded.

“For you.”

Ortega leaned forward.

“Lily, do you remember the man in the hallway?”

She nodded.

“Did he say anything to you?”

“No.”

“Did he touch you?”

“No.” “Did you know him?” Lily was silent.

Then she whispered:

“He knew me.”

My heart stopped.

“What do you mean?”

“He said my name.”

“When?”

“Yesterday.”

I looked at Ortega.

“Yesterday?”

Lily nodded.

“He was outside my school.”

The room suddenly felt too small.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Daddy told me not to.”

I closed my eyes.

“Why?”

“He said grown-ups would make it worse.” Ortega exchanged a glance with me.

Then Lily reached into her backpack again.

This time she pulled out something wrapped in a tissue.

She placed it on the desk.

It was a small silver key.

I stared at it.

“Where did you get that?”

“Mommy gave it to me.”

“When?”

“Three nights ago.”

“Why?”

Lily’s voice became barely audible.

“She said if anything happened to her, I should give it to you.”

I felt something crack inside me.

“Anything happened?”

Lily nodded.

“She was crying when she said it.” I looked at the key.

It had a number stamped into it.

417.

“What does that open?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where did your mother tell you to use it?”

“She didn’t.”

“Then why give it to you?”

Lily looked directly at me. “She said Grandpa would know.”

I couldn’t breathe.

Because I did know.

Or at least I knew what the number meant.

Four-one-seven.

Room 417.

The old Riverside Hotel.

The hotel where Maggie and I had spent our first anniversary.

The hotel where Emma had been born.

The hotel that had been demolished fifteen years ago.

At least, I thought it had.

I turned to Ortega.

“Do you have access to building records?”

“Yes.”

“Can you check something for me?”

“What?”

“Find out whether Whitfield Tower has a storage room, maintenance room, or restricted area numbered 417.”

He stared at me.

“Why?”

“Because I think somebody hid something in this building.” Before he could answer, the security monitor suddenly flickered.

Every camera feed went black.

The lights in the office went out.

Lily screamed.

I pulled her against me.

“It’s okay.”

Emergency lighting came on.

Red.

Dim.

Then Ortega’s radio crackled.

“Raymond?”

He grabbed it.

“Go ahead.”

A voice answered.

“Sir, we’ve lost cameras on floors twenty-five through thirty.”

Ortega looked at me.

“Why those floors?”

Before he could answer, another voice came through the radio.

“Sir…”

“What?”

“There is someone on twenty-seven.”

“Security?”

“No.”

“Who?”

A pause.

Then:

“Someone just entered Mr. Rowe’s office.”

I stood.

“Grant.”

Ortega grabbed my arm.

“Wait.”

“My daughter is involved.”

“We don’t know that yet.”

“That’s my son-in-law’s office.” “And we don’t know whether he’s inside.”

I looked at Lily.

She had gone completely pale.

“Lily?”

She whispered:

“That’s where Mommy told me not to go.” Ortega looked at me.

“What exactly did your daughter tell her?”

I shook my head.

“I don’t know.”

Lily suddenly reached into her backpack one more time.

She pulled out a folded photograph. “Mommy said this was the last thing.”

I opened it.

It was a photograph of Emma.

My daughter was standing outside Whitfield Tower.

Beside her was Grant.

But that wasn’t what made my stomach drop.

There was another person in the photograph.

The same man from the lobby.

Gray cap.

Dark jacket.

And written on the back of the photograph, in Emma’s handwriting, were six words:

HE IS NOT WHO GRANT SAYS HE IS.

I looked at Lily.

“Who is he?”

She shook her head.

“I don’t know.”

Then she suddenly grabbed my sleeve.

“But Mommy does.”

The security office door rattled.

Once.

Twice.

Someone was trying the handle.

Ortega immediately reached for his radio.

“Who’s outside?”

No answer.

The handle moved again.

Lily buried her face against my chest.

Then a man’s voice came through the door.

“Mr. Hail?”

I froze.

I knew that voice.

It was Grant.

“Open the door.”

I looked at Ortega.

He silently shook his head.

Grant spoke again.

“I know Lily is in there.”

Lily squeezed my hand.

Then she whispered something that made my blood run cold.

“Grandpa…”

“What?”

“Daddy isn’t alone.”

The door handle moved again.

And from the hallway came a second man’s voice.

Calm.

Low.

Familiar.

“Mr. Hail, we need to talk.”

I looked toward the security monitors.

Every screen was still black.

Then one monitor suddenly came back on.

It showed the twenty-seventh floor.

Grant was standing outside the security office.

And beside him stood the man in the gray cap.

But the camera angle revealed something I hadn’t noticed before.

The man wasn’t looking at the security office.

He was looking directly at the camera.

As if he knew we were watching.

Then he smiled.

And slowly raised one finger to his lips.

Be quiet.

NEXT PART IS HERE