Chapter 21
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The tension in the sanctuary was palpable the next morning. The sky overhead was a bruised, heavy gray, threatening a late summer thunderstorm. Inside the kitchen, Amy was gently guiding Nora through the process of making breakfast, trying to keep the young mother's mind occupied.
Suddenly, Nora dropped the wooden spoon she was holding. It clattered loudly against the terracotta tile floor.
I was walking down the hallway and rushed into the kitchen. Nora was backed against the counter, her hands covering her mouth, staring in absolute, paralyzed horror at a small, cheap burner phone sitting on the island. The screen was lit up with a new text message.
Amy immediately moved to Nora's side, wrapping a protective arm around her trembling shoulders.
"What is it, Nora?" Amy asked softly.
Nora couldn't speak. She just pointed a shaking finger at the phone.
I walked over and picked up the device. The message was sent from an untraceable, encrypted number. It contained a single, terrifying line of text:
The weather in Franklin looks terrible today, Nora. I hope Sam brought his blue raincoat.
My blood ran completely cold.
"He knows," Nora sobbed, collapsing against Amy's chest. "He knows exactly where we are. Sam's blue raincoat... it was packed at the bottom of our bag. How does he know?"
I stared at the phone, my mind racing through the tactical implications. Thorne hadn't just used the corrupt inspector to scout the property. He had a direct line to Nora's exact location, down to the specific items she had brought with her.
"Did you call anyone on this phone?" I demanded gently. "Did you log into any email accounts, or connect to the Wi-Fi?"
"No," Nora cried, shaking her head frantically. "I bought it with cash at a gas station. I haven't used it to contact a single person. I swear, Connor. I didn't tell him!"
"I believe you," I promised, setting the phone down.
Amy looked at me, her eyes wide with a terrifying realization. "Connor, if the phone isn't tracked, and she hasn't contacted anyone..."
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"Then he is tracking something else," I finished the grim thought.
I turned and sprinted out of the kitchen, heading directly for the residential wing where Nora and Sam's belongings had been stored. If Marcus Thorne had planted a physical tracking device on his wife or child, our impenetrable fortress had a beacon flashing brightly right in the center of it.
