Chapter 12
I grabbed my coat and keys, calling out to Lily that I had an emergency at the center and that Sarah was on her way over to stay with her. The drive to The Open Door Project headquarters felt twice as long as usual. My mind raced with impossible scenarios. Clara was in a maximum-security prison. We had dismantled her network. We had accounted for all the properties. Or so we thought.
When I arrived, the building was mostly empty, save for the security guard at the front desk and the glow of light spilling from Lucy's office at the end of the hall. I pushed the door open to find Lucy standing over her desk, staring down at a piece of wrinkled printer paper.
"Where is he?" I asked, my voice low so as not to startle anyone in the adjacent rooms.
"Sleeping in the safe room," Lucy replied, rubbing her tired eyes. "The police think he's around eight years old. Malnourished, signs of physical restraint on his wrists and ankles. Just like..."
She didn't need to finish the sentence. Just like Emma. Just like Rose. Just like Lily.
"Show me the drawing," I said.
Lucy handed me the paper. It was rendered in harsh, jagged strokes of cheap crayon. The house was disproportionately large, looming over the page. The windows were colored entirely black, leaving no room for light to escape or enter. But it was the door that made my heart stop. It was painted a vibrant, aggressive red, with a strange, jagged symbol etched into the wood—a symbol that looked like a broken key.
"Do you recognize it?" Lucy asked, watching my face closely.
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"Clara used a broken key symbol on the ledger we found during the trial," I whispered, the memories flooding back with violent clarity. "It was the mark she used for her 'special' acquisitions. The ones she didn't process through the main house."
"Ethan," Lucy said, her voice trembling. "If this boy came from a house with that symbol, Clara didn't work alone. Someone is still out there, continuing her work."
