Chapter 1 - THE BOY ON THE BALCONY
Belle Ashford heard the little girl scream before she saw her.
“Micah!”
Her mop hit the floor.
She ran toward the second-floor balcony and stopped so hard her shoes slid across the wet tile.
Her seven-year-old son was on his knees beside the railing.
And hanging twenty-three feet above a granite courtyard was a little girl.
Micah had one hand locked around the black iron bars.
His other hand was wrapped around the girl’s wrist.
“Mom,” he said.
His voice shook.
“I can’t hold her much longer.”
Belle’s stomach dropped.
“Don’t let go!”
“I’m not!”
The little girl’s shoes scraped uselessly against the outside wall.
One slipped halfway off her foot.
Below her was nothing but stone.
No grass.
No bushes.
Nothing soft enough to save a child.
Belle ran.
The balcony doors slammed against the wall behind her.
Her mop bucket tipped over, sending dirty water across the polished floor.
“Look at me,” Micah told the girl.
She was crying now.
“I’m scared.”
“I know.”
“My hand hurts.”
“I know.”
“I’m gonna fall.”
“No, you’re not.”
Micah’s voice cracked on the last word.
He looked terrified.
But he didn’t let go.
Belle dropped beside him.
“Micah, I’ve got her.”
“No!”
The sharpness in his voice startled her.
“Don’t pull her arm.”
Belle froze.
Micah swallowed hard.
“She said her shoulder hurts.”
Belle stared at her son.
Even terrified, he had noticed.
“Okay,” she whispered.
“You tell me what to do.”
Micah looked at the girl.
“Brinley, remember what I said?”
The girl nodded through her tears.
“Put your foot on that little ledge.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
“I can’t!”
Micah’s eyes filled.
For one second, he looked exactly seven years old.
“Please try.”
Brinley found the ledge.
Belle reached through the bars and grabbed the back of her coat.
“Now.”
Together, they pulled.
Brinley came through the railing.
She hit the balcony floor.
Micah fell backward.
For two seconds, nobody moved.
Then Belle grabbed him.
She checked his face.
His arms.
His hands.
“You okay?”
Micah nodded.
Then shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
That nearly broke her.
Belle pulled him against her chest.
Brinley sat beside them, silent.
Her gray eyes were huge.
Belle reached for her carefully.
The girl didn’t move.
Then Belle touched her shoulder.
Brinley suddenly threw both arms around her.
Not politely.
Not cautiously.
She buried her face against Belle’s neck and held on.
Belle went still.
There was something wrong with the way that child hugged her.
It wasn’t the hug of a frightened little girl reaching for a stranger.
It felt like the hug of a child who had been waiting a very long time for someone to hold her.
Then footsteps thundered down the hallway.
Heavy.
Fast.
Several people.
Belle looked up.
And saw Renick Kavanaugh.
Every employee in the estate knew that name.
Half of Boston did.
Some people called him a businessman.
Some called him a criminal.
Most were smart enough not to call him anything when he was close enough to hear.
Belle had worked inside his mansion for ten days.
She had never once seen him lose control.
Until now.
“Brinley.”
His voice came out rough.
He crossed the balcony in two strides.
Belle released the girl.
Renick dropped to his knees and pulled his daughter against him.
“Baby.”
He checked her face.
Her neck.
Her arms.
“Look at me.”
Brinley stared at him.
“Are you hurt?”
She shook her head.
“Did you fall?”
Another shake.
Renick’s breathing slowed.
Then Brinley pointed.
At Micah.
“Bird boy.”
Renick looked over.
Micah was sitting against the railing with blood on one knee and both hands still shaking.
Renick stared at him.
Micah stared back.
Belle instinctively moved closer to her son.
For a strange second, nobody spoke.
Then Sully Byrne, the estate manager, rushed onto the balcony with two security guards.
“Sir.”
Renick stood.
His fear disappeared so quickly it was almost frightening.
“What happened?”
“We’re checking the cameras.”
“Check them again.”
“We are.”
“How did she get out here?”
Sully hesitated.
“We don’t know yet.”
Renick’s eyes hardened.
“That wasn’t a question you get to answer with ‘I don’t know.’”
One guard examined the balcony door.
Then he stopped.
“Mr. Kavanaugh.”
Renick turned.
The guard pointed at the lock.
“It was disabled.”
Belle felt something cold move through her.
Sully stared at the mechanism.
“Disabled how?”
“Someone jammed it open.”
Renick slowly looked down at Brinley.
His daughter had not wandered onto that balcony because someone forgot to lock a door.
Someone had made sure she could get out.
Renick picked her up.
“Seal the estate.”
Sully nodded.
“Nobody leaves.”
Renick’s eyes moved to every person standing there.
“Nobody.”
Belle didn’t wait to be dismissed.
She took Micah downstairs to the staff break room and locked the door behind them.
Only then did her legs start shaking.
Micah sat on the counter while she opened the first-aid kit.
She poured rubbing alcohol onto a cotton pad.
“This is going to sting.”
“I know.”
She touched it to his scraped elbow.
He hissed.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.”
Belle stopped.
She looked at him.
His hoodie was dirty.
His knee was bleeding.
His face had gone pale.
He was seven.
Seven.
She suddenly wanted to cry.
Instead, she cleaned the scrape.
“Micah.”
“Yeah?”
“Why did you do that?”
He frowned.
“What?”
“Why did you grab her?”
Micah looked genuinely confused.
“Because she was falling.”
Belle stared at him.
“That’s it?”
He shrugged.
“What was I supposed to do?”
A laugh escaped her.
A bad one.
Half laugh.
Half sob.
She covered her mouth.
Micah looked worried.
“Mom?”
“I’m okay.”
“You don’t look okay.”
“Thank you.”
He almost smiled.
Then his expression changed.
He reached into the pocket of his hoodie.
“I found something.”
Belle looked down.
Micah opened his hand.
A small gold button sat in his palm.
It was expensive.
Heavy.
And stamped with a tiny black wolf.
Belle had seen that wolf before.
On the gates.
On Renick’s cuff links.
On the envelopes nobody on the household staff was allowed to touch.
The Kavanaugh family crest.
“Where did you get that?”
Micah pointed toward the ceiling.
“On the balcony.”
Belle took the button.
“You found it on the floor?”
Micah shook his head.
“No.”
Her fingers stopped.
“Then where?”
Micah looked toward the locked break-room door.
“There was a man with Brinley before she fell.”
Belle forgot how to breathe.
“What man?”
“I don’t know.”
“Was it one of the guards?”
“No.”
“Did you see his face?”
Micah shook his head.
“He had a coat.”
“What kind?”
“Black.”
Belle looked at the gold button again.
“Did he push her?”
“I don’t know.”
“Micah.”
“I don’t know, Mom.”
His voice rose.
“I got there and he was holding her arm.”
Belle went completely still.
“Then what happened?”
“He saw me.”
“And?”
“He let go.”
That night, Belle took Micah home early.
Their basement apartment sat beneath an old brick house in Dorchester.
One bedroom.
A kitchen barely big enough for two chairs.
Pipes that knocked whenever the upstairs tenant showered.
Belle locked the door.
Then checked it twice.
At 11:43 p.m., someone knocked.
Three slow knocks.
Belle sat straight up in bed.
Micah appeared in the hallway holding his stuffed dinosaur.
“Mom?”
“Stay there.”
Another knock.
Belle grabbed the baseball bat behind the bedroom door.
She approached the entrance.
“Who is it?”
Silence.
Then a man answered.
“Renick Kavanaugh.”
Belle’s grip tightened around the bat.
She opened the door three inches.
Renick stood beneath the weak porch light.
Rain covered the shoulders of his black coat.
No driver.
No security guards.
No expensive car waiting at the curb.
He was alone.
And in his hand was a small plastic evidence bag.
Inside it sat a gold button.
Exactly like the one hidden in Micah’s hoodie.
Belle slowly raised her eyes.
Renick looked past her.
Toward Micah.
Then he said quietly.
“Mrs. Ashford.”
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“The man who tried to kill my daughter knows where you live.”
