Chapter 5 - The Blue Door
The storage facility sat beneath an elevated highway in Quincy, thirty minutes south of Boston.
Rain hammered the windshield.
Harper sat in the passenger seat beside Detective Ortiz while Gabriel’s vehicles followed at a distance.
“We are not sending you in alone,” Ortiz said.
“He said alone.”
“Kidnappers say lots of things.”
“He’ll hurt Noah.”
Ortiz looked at her.
“He already has. The way we stop more harm is by not giving Derek control of the scene.”
Harper knew that.
Her body did not.
Her body still remembered every time Derek said, Do what I say and this ends faster.
Gabriel called through the encrypted earpiece.
“Harper.”
“I’m here.”
“You do not have to go through that door.”
“Yes, I do.”
“No. You want to. Because you love your brother. That is different.”
“Why does that matter?”
“Because Derek spent years teaching you that you have no choices. Tonight you do.”
Harper closed her eyes.
It was a strange thing to hear from a man known for giving orders.
“I’m going in.”
“Then I’m staying close.”
Ortiz parked around the corner.
Harper walked the last hundred yards alone.
The storage rows glowed under yellow security lights.
Unit 318 had a blue door.
The lock hung open.
Harper lifted it.
Inside was darkness.
“Noah?”
A small sound came from the back.
“Harper?”
She ran in.
Noah sat tied to a chair, wrists bound with zip ties. His face was wet with tears, but he was alive.
Harper dropped to her knees.
“Oh, baby.”
“Behind you.”
Derek stepped from behind a stack of boxes.
Gun in hand.
Harper froze.
“You came.”
“Let him go.”
“You always did love playing hero.”
“I said let him go.”
Derek smiled.
“Where’s the drive?”
“I don’t have it.”
His smile disappeared.
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I never opened Mom’s storage. I didn’t know about it until tonight.”
Derek moved closer.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I don’t care what you believe.”
He struck her across the face with the back of his hand.
Harper fell against a box.
Noah screamed.
Every instinct in her told her to shrink.
Apologize.
Make herself smaller.
Instead, Harper stood back up.
Derek looked almost surprised.
She tasted blood.
“You’re done hitting me.”
He laughed.
“Look around, Harper.”
“You’re alone.”
“No.”
Her eyes locked on his.
“For the first time in years, I’m not.”
A red laser dot appeared on Derek’s chest.
Then another.
Then a third.
Derek’s face went white.
Gabriel’s voice came from the open doorway.
“Put the gun down.”
Derek spun and grabbed Noah by the shirt, dragging him upright.
The gun pressed against the boy’s head.
Harper’s heart stopped.
“Back off!” Derek shouted.
Gabriel stood just outside the unit, hands visible.
Behind him, Ortiz and two tactical officers held position.
Gabriel’s gaze never left Derek.
“You don’t want the child,” he said.
“I want the drive.”
“It isn’t here.”
“Then Harper gets it.”
“No,” Noah whispered.
Derek tightened his grip.
“Shut up.”
Noah’s breathing turned fast and shallow.
Harper saw panic coming.
His asthma.
“Noah, look at me.”
“Harper—”
“Look at me. Remember Mom’s song?”
Derek jerked him.
“Stop talking.”
Harper ignored him.
She began humming the lullaby softly.
Noah stared at her.
His breathing slowed by a fraction.
Derek shifted the gun.
That was the opening.
Noah stomped down on Derek’s foot with all his strength.
Derek cursed.
Harper lunged.
She grabbed Noah and pulled him sideways.
A gunshot exploded inside the metal unit.
Harper hit the floor with Noah under her.
Derek screamed.
When Harper looked up, his gun was gone.
A bullet had struck his shoulder.
Ortiz kicked the weapon away and drove him to the floor.
Gabriel was suddenly beside Harper.
“Are you hit?”
She checked Noah.
“No.”
“Harper, are you hit?”
She looked down.
Blood spread across her sleeve.
For one horrible second, she thought it was hers.
Then she realized it came from Derek.
She started laughing.
Not because anything was funny.
Because Noah was alive.
Because Derek was in handcuffs.
Because she had survived.
Ortiz stood over Derek.
“It’s over.”
Derek smiled through clenched teeth.
“No, it isn’t.”
Everyone looked at him.
He turned his head toward Harper.
“You still don’t understand what was on your mother’s drive.”
Harper stared.
Derek’s smile widened.
May you like
“Gabriel does.”
