Chapter 1 - The Blood on the Silver Ring
The black Escalade had barely stopped beneath the stone entrance of the Vale estate when a barefoot little girl ran through the rain and grabbed Dominic Vale by the sleeve.
“My mommy has been missing for three days!”
Her cry cut through the night so sharply that every armed man beside the vehicle reached beneath his jacket.
Dominic froze on the lowest marble step.
Rainwater streamed from the roof of the sprawling Lake Forest mansion, splashing around the polished shoes of the most feared crime boss in Chicago.
He had just returned from Washington, D.C., after forty-eight hours of negotiations that could have changed the balance of power across the Midwest.
Three federal agencies wanted him imprisoned.
Two rival organizations wanted him buried.
Half of Chicago knew his name but refused to speak it above a whisper.
Yet it was the trembling hand of a five-year-old child that turned his blood cold.
Sophie Brooks stood before him in a wrinkled yellow nightgown.
Her brown hair clung to her tear-swollen face.
She wore no shoes.
No coat.
No adult had followed her outside.
Dominic lowered himself onto one knee.
He did not kneel for priests, politicians, judges, or men holding weapons.
But he knelt for Sophie.
“Look at me,” he said.
Her frightened blue eyes lifted toward his.
“Where is your mother?”
Sophie swallowed.
“Miss Claire took Mommy downstairs to get wine for your welcome-home dinner. Mommy told me she would come right back. But Miss Claire came upstairs alone.”
Claire Whitmore was Dominic’s fiancée.
Their wedding was scheduled for the following month.
Dominic glanced toward the mansion’s open doors.
The grand foyer glowed behind Sophie, warm and golden beneath a crystal chandelier.
Household staff stood near the walls.
Music played softly from the ballroom.
Everything looked peaceful.
Too peaceful.
“What did Claire tell you?” Dominic asked.
“She said Mommy went to see Grandma in Milwaukee.”
Dominic knew Elena Brooks’s mother had been dead for six years.
He also knew Elena would never leave her daughter without saying goodbye.
Sophie tightened her grip on his sleeve.
“Mommy always kisses my forehead three times. One for today, one for tomorrow, and one in case she has to be gone longer.”
Dominic’s expression did not change.
But the two bodyguards behind him saw his shoulders become rigid.
“Did anyone search for her?”
“I told Mr. Marcus.”
Marcus Reed had been Dominic’s closest friend and second-in-command for nearly twenty years.
“What did he say?”
“He said grown-ups have private problems and I should stop making stories.”
A dangerous stillness settled over Dominic’s face.
Sophie looked over her shoulder toward the western wing of the estate.
“Mommy is still here.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I heard her.”
Dominic stood.
“Show me.”
Sophie led him through the mansion while twelve employees watched from distant doorways.
No one spoke.
Dominic’s security chief, Aaron Cole, followed with two guards.
They passed the ballroom, the library, and the large portrait of Dominic’s late wife, Rebecca, who had been murdered seven years earlier.
Then Sophie stopped beside an iron staircase descending beneath the west wing.
“There.”
At the bottom waited a steel door Dominic had not opened in years.
The original wine cellar had been abandoned after a modern temperature-controlled storage room was built beneath the east wing.
Dust covered the old stone walls and iron railing.
But the lock on the steel door was new.
Bright brass.
Untouched by dust.
Dominic stared at it.
“Who authorized this?”
A voice answered from the staircase behind him.
“I did.”
Marcus Reed descended slowly.
He wore a dark sweater and tailored pants.
His expression was relaxed, almost amused.
“You’re home early,” Marcus said. “I thought Washington would keep you until tomorrow.”
Dominic ignored the observation.
“Why is there a lock on this door?”
“Claire asked me to install it. She was concerned about the reserve wine collection.”
Sophie stepped behind Dominic’s leg.
“My mommy is inside.”
Marcus sighed like a patient uncle dealing with a difficult child.
“Sophie, we discussed this. Your mother went to Milwaukee.”
“My grandma is dead!”
Her words echoed through the corridor.
Marcus’s smile disappeared for half a second.
Then it returned.
Dominic noticed both moments.
“Open the door,” Dominic ordered.
Marcus spread his hands.
“I don’t have the key.”
“You authorized the lock.”
“Claire kept it.”
Dominic turned toward Aaron.
“Cut it.”
Marcus took one step forward.
“Dom, think carefully. Claire is already nervous about the wedding. Breaking open a cellar because a frightened child misunderstood something will only create—”
Dominic looked at him.
Marcus stopped speaking.
Aaron removed a compact hydraulic cutter from the emergency cabinet.
The jaws closed around the brass shackle.
Sophie covered her ears.
Metal groaned.
The lock snapped.
Dominic pushed Sophie behind Aaron before opening the door.
A smell of damp stone, rust, and stale air drifted into the corridor.
Then came another smell.
Blood.
Dominic drew his pistol and entered first.
A single bulb flickered above rows of empty wooden racks.
At the far end of the cellar, Elena Brooks lay against the wall.
Her wrists were tied behind her with electrical cord.
Dried blood marked the floor beneath her hands.
Her face was pale, her lips cracked, and one eye was swollen.
An old pipe beside her leaked a drop of water every few seconds.
She had dragged herself close enough to drink from the small puddle beneath it.
Dominic crossed the room in four steps.
“Elena.”
Her eyelids moved.
He crouched beside her and cut the cord.
When she finally opened her eyes, she did not look at him.
She looked toward the doorway.
“Sophie?”
The little girl broke free from Aaron and ran across the cellar.
“Mommy!”
Elena tried to lift her arms, but they would not respond.
Sophie fell against her chest, sobbing so hard her entire body shook.
Dominic removed his coat and wrapped it around Elena.
“Who did this?”
Her cracked lips parted.
Before she could answer, footsteps sounded behind them.
Marcus stood in the doorway.
“My God,” he whispered. “Claire did this?”
Elena’s gaze shifted toward him.
For one fraction of a second, pure terror crossed her face.
Dominic saw it.
Marcus did not.
Or perhaps he did and believed no one else had noticed.
Dominic lifted Elena into his arms.
Sophie held her mother’s hand as they climbed the stairs.
When they entered the main foyer, Claire Whitmore was descending from the second floor in a white silk robe.
She saw Elena in Dominic’s arms.
Every trace of color left her face.
“Dominic?”
He stopped beneath the chandelier.
“You told Sophie that Elena went to Milwaukee.”
Claire gripped the banister.
“Yes, because Marcus told me she had received an emergency call.”
Every person in the foyer turned toward him.
Marcus remained near the cellar corridor, perfectly calm.
Claire looked from Elena’s injured wrists to Sophie clutching her hand.
“What happened?”
Dominic’s voice became dangerously quiet.
“That is what you are going to explain.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The cellar was locked from the outside. Marcus says you ordered the lock.”
Claire stared at Marcus.
“I never ordered any lock.”
Marcus gave a sorrowful shake of his head.
“Claire, this is not the time.”
“What are you talking about?”
Dominic watched them both.
One was trembling.
The other was not.
Then Elena, barely conscious in his arms, whispered something only he could hear.
“The man with the silver ring.”
Dominic glanced down.
“What?”
But Elena had already fainted.
Marcus placed one hand on Dominic’s shoulder.
May you like
On his smallest finger was a heavy silver ring Dominic had seen nearly every day for twenty years.
And across its polished face was a dark red smear of blood.
