Chapter 3 - The Fugitive Heiress
Rain slashed violently against the windshield of Eleanor’s black SUV as she accelerated down the winding estate driveway, the tires screaming against the slick asphalt. In the backseat, Leo was fast asleep, exhausted from the terror of the night. Eleanor’s hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her rearview mirror reflected the flashing red and blue lights of police cruisers turning into the driveway she had just escaped.
Arthur was dead—she had heard the final gunshot echoed down the stairwell as she sprinted out the service entrance—or Julian was. She didn't know if her husband was breathing when she left him on that floor. All she knew was that every authority in New York City was about to receive a call framing her for the ultimate massacre.
Her phone buzzed violently on the passenger seat. The caller ID read UNKNOWN NUMBER. Eleanor hesitated before clicking the speaker button.
"If you take Highway 9, state troopers will intercept you within three miles," a raspy, unfamiliar voice growled over the speaker. "Turn left onto Old Mill Road. Now."
"Who is this?" Eleanor screamed, her voice cracking with pure desperation. "Did Thomas send you?"
"Thomas Sterling is a puppet," the voice replied calmly. "If you want your son to live past sunrise, you’ll follow my instructions. Look in your glove compartment."
Eleanor flipped open the leather compartment with one hand. Inside lay a encrypted satellite phone and a velvet pouch containing two passports and a thick stack of hundred-dollar bills.
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"My name is Marcus Kane," the voice continued. "I was your father’s chief intelligence officer before Julian’s family destroyed his company. Maria wasn't working alone, Eleanor. And the man who orchestrated tonight isn't in London. He’s sitting in the Mayor’s office in Manhattan."
Eleanor swerved the SUV onto Old Mill Road, diving into the pitch-black woods as the wail of police sirens echoed down the highway behind her. The nightmare had only just begun.
