Chapter 11 - THE DAUGHTER WHO REFUSED TO DISAPPEAR|
Marisol had disappeared from her college library at four seventeen in the afternoon.
Her backpack was found beneath a reading table.
Her phone remained inside.
And the security camera nearest the rear exit had stopped recording eleven minutes before she vanished.
Hazel stared at the report.
Her hands were shaking so badly she could barely hold the paper.
“How could this happen?”
Detective Brooks stood beside her.
“We're reviewing the footage from nearby cameras.”
“She was supposed to be safe.”
“We had officers checking on her.”
“Then how did Vivian get her?”
Brooks didn't answer immediately.
Hazel looked away.
She knew the detective wasn't responsible for every decision Marisol made.
But anger needed somewhere to go.
And at that moment, Hazel had nowhere else to put it.
Raymond had been released from the hospital earlier that day under medical supervision.
He stood near the window with one hand braced against a cane.
His injured leg remained stiff.
Gabriel and two investigators were speaking quietly beside the door.
Hazel turned toward him.
“She took Marisol because of me.”
Raymond shook his head.
“No.”
“Vivian sent her messages about me.”
“Then she threatened my apartment.”
“And now she's taken Rosa's daughter.”
His expression tightened.
“Vivian made those choices.”
Hazel pressed her hands against her face.
“But I brought Marisol into this.”
“She was already involved.”
“Her mother was killed.”
Raymond stepped closer.
“Hazel.”
She looked up.
“You didn't start that fire.”
“You didn't lock those doors.”
“And you didn't force Vivian to hurt anyone.”
Hazel wanted to believe him.
But guilt had a way of making every tragedy seem like something she should have prevented.
She remembered Rosa laughing over burned pancakes.
Marisol standing beside her mother's empty chair.
The farewell letter inside the sewing machine.
And now the young woman had disappeared too.
Detective Brooks approached.
“We have a possible lead.”
Hazel turned immediately.
“What?”
“A traffic camera recorded a gray SUV leaving the university area.”
“Does it belong to Vivian?”
“It's registered to a rental company.”
“Who rented it?”
“An employee of North Harbor Logistics.”
Raymond's jaw tightened.
“Name?”
“Frank Rourke.”
Hazel went cold.
“Charles Rourke's son?”
Brooks nodded.
“Yes.”
Raymond looked toward Gabriel.
“Frank handled warehouse maintenance.”
Gabriel frowned.
“He also had access to the ballroom's service corridors.”
Hazel stared at them.
Another connection.
Another familiar name.
The family of the man tied to Michael Keen's death had reached into the lives of Rosa Delgado and her daughter.
“Where is the SUV?” she asked.
“Last recorded heading toward the waterfront.”
“Pier Nine?”
“We're checking.”
Hazel reached for her coat.
Raymond looked at her.
“Where are you going?”
“To the police station.”
“Detective Brooks is already here.”
“I can't sit still.”
He nodded.
“Then I'll come with you.”
Hazel glanced at his cane.
“You can barely walk.”
“I can sit in a car.”
She almost smiled.
But her face crumpled before the expression formed.
Raymond reached toward her.
This time, she didn't hesitate.
She stepped into his arms.
He held her gently.
Hazel pressed her face against his shoulder.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then she whispered, “I can't tell another girl her mother isn't coming home.”
Raymond's hold tightened.
“You won't have to do this alone.”
Hazel closed her eyes.
She had been alone for so long that the words frightened her.
Not because she doubted his sincerity.
But because caring about Raymond Castellano was becoming something she could no longer pretend was only gratitude.
At the precinct, investigators established a command room.
Detective Brooks coordinated with officers near the waterfront.
Hazel sat beside Gabriel, studying maps she barely understood.
Pier Nine.
Pier Twelve.
The old maintenance road.
The warehouse district.
The same buildings that had appeared in her father's records.
Then her phone rang.
An unknown number.
Hazel froze.
Detective Brooks looked up.
“Answer it on speaker.”
Hazel nodded.
“Hello?”
A woman's voice came through.
Smooth.
Controlled.
And unmistakable.
“Hazel Keen.”
Vivian Castellano.
Hazel gripped the phone.
“Where is Marisol?”
Vivian laughed softly.
“You never were much for conversation.”
“Let her go.”
“In a moment.”
Hazel felt her anger rising.
“She has nothing to do with your problems.”
“Oh, sweetheart.”
Vivian's voice sharpened.
“She has everything to do with them.”
Detective Brooks gestured for Hazel to keep talking.
Hazel swallowed.
“What do you want?”
“The original records from Michael Keen's locker.”
Hazel stared at the detective.
“They're with the police.”
“Then convince them to bring them.”
“I can't do that.”
Vivian sighed.
“Of course you can.”
“You've managed to convince everyone that you're some kind of brave little heroine.”
Hazel felt cold.
“Why did you lock Raymond in the basement?”
A pause.
Then Vivian laughed.
“Because he wouldn't listen.”
Hazel's heart pounded.
“Did you start the fire?”
“Raymond always wanted to be the hero.”
“He wanted to throw away everything his family built.”
“He thought he could become respectable.”
Her voice turned bitter.
“Do you know what respectability costs, Hazel?”
Hazel didn't answer.
Vivian continued.
“Money.”
“Loyalty.”
“Power.”
“Things Raymond was happy to enjoy until he decided he had a conscience.”
Hazel looked toward Raymond.
His expression was terrifyingly still.
“Rosa died because of you,” Hazel said.
Vivian went silent.
Then she replied, “Rosa should have stayed out of the warehouse.”
Hazel felt tears spring into her eyes.
“She reported a broken exit.”
“She complained about everything.”
“She was trying to protect people.”
“Then perhaps she should have protected herself.”
The cruelty was so effortless that Hazel felt physically sick.
She glanced toward Detective Brooks.
The detective was already signaling to the communications team.
Hazel took a breath.
“Let me talk to Marisol.”
Vivian hesitated.
Then a rustling sound came through the phone.
A frightened voice whispered, “Hazel?”
Hazel's eyes filled.
“Marisol.”
“I'm okay.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
There was a pause.
“I'm scared.”
Hazel pressed a hand against her mouth.
“I know.”
“Listen to me.”
“You're going to come home.”
Marisol began crying.
“Hazel, she says Mom stole something.”
“She didn't steal anything.”
“She was protecting evidence.”
Marisol swallowed.
“She says she'll hurt me if you don't bring the papers.”
Hazel felt her heart breaking.
“I'm going to help you.”
Vivian took the phone back.
“How sweet.”
Hazel's voice hardened.
“Where?”
“Pier Nine.”
The room went still.
Vivian continued.
“Midnight.”
“Come alone.”
Raymond took one step forward.
Detective Brooks raised a hand, warning him to remain quiet.
Hazel swallowed.
“What guarantee do I have that you'll release her?”
Vivian laughed.
“You don't.”
Then she lowered her voice.
“But if you want another chance to save a Castellano victim, you'll do what you're told.”
The call ended.
Hazel stared at the screen.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Raymond said, “She's not going.”
Hazel turned.
“Raymond.”
“No.”
He gripped his cane.
“Vivian wants you there because she knows you won't abandon Marisol.”
Hazel looked toward Detective Brooks.
“What are we doing?”
The detective stepped closer.
“We're planning a rescue.”
“Can you track the call?”
“Our team is working on it.”
Hazel nodded.
“Then tell me how I can help.”
Raymond shook his head.
“Hazel—”
She turned toward him.
“Don't.”
He stopped.
“I pulled you out of a fire because you were trapped.”
“I didn't know your name.”
“I didn't know your business.”
“I didn't know whether you were a good man.”
Her voice broke.
“I just knew someone needed help.”
Raymond watched her.
Hazel continued.
“Marisol needs help now.”
“And I'm not going to stand here pretending I don't care because it's dangerous.”
His expression softened.
“I know.”
She looked at him.
“Then trust me.”
For a moment, Raymond said nothing.
Then he nodded.
“I do.”
Detective Brooks placed a map on the table.
“We're not sending anyone blindly into a warehouse.”
“We'll establish visual coverage, confirm the hostage's location, and coordinate the response.”
Hazel listened.
She asked questions.
She memorized the locations she was told to recognize.
And she accepted that trained officers, not her courage alone, would have to bring Marisol home.
But as the briefing continued, Gabriel approached Raymond.
He held a newly recovered document.
His face was pale.
“Raymond.”
Raymond turned.
“What?”
“Investigators recovered part of your brother's final message.”
Raymond went still.
“Daniel's?”
Gabriel nodded.
“The digital team restored an audio file from Michael Keen's records.”
Hazel looked up.
“How could Dad have Daniel's message?”
Gabriel hesitated.
“The file was added years after Michael's death.”
“Someone accessed the locker.”
Hazel's pulse quickened.
“Who?”
“We don't know.”
Then Gabriel pressed play.
Daniel Castellano's voice filled the room.
“If anything happens to me, Raymond needs to know the truth.”
A pause.
“Vivian is working with someone who has been inside our family longer than she has.”
Raymond's expression changed.
Daniel continued.
“I thought the problem was Marcus.”
“But Marcus is only carrying out orders.”
“The person behind everything is the man Raymond trusts with his money.”
The recording crackled.
Then Daniel spoke a name.
“Gabriel Voss.”
Hazel turned.
The attorney stood beside the door.
May you like
His face had gone completely white.
And for the first time since she'd met him, Gabriel Voss looked like a man who had run out of explanations.
