Chapter 9 - The Rusted Gates
|
Rain was pouring heavily over Manhattan by the time my taxi pulled up to the overgrown, rusted iron gates of the abandoned Carter Private Clinic.
The three-story brick building stood like a dark monolith against the stormy night sky, its windows boarded up with rotting wood, its walls covered in decades of grime and spray paint. It had remained completely abandoned since the night of the fire twenty-four years ago, preserved in a state of legal limbo by the Carter family estate.
I pulled my coat tightly around my shoulders, clutching my flashlight in one hand and the small silver key in my pocket.
As I approached the creaking front entrance, a sleek black SUV pulled up silently behind my taxi. The driver's door opened, and a tall, sharp-featured woman in a dark trench coat stepped out, holding an umbrella over her head.
It was Lena Vance—Ethan’s head of private security and one of the few people in the city he trusted implicitly.
"Ava!" Lena called out, her voice cutting through the sound of rain. "What are you doing here? I've been tracking your phone since Ethan was taken to the 19th Precinct."
"Lucas called me," I said, stepping back toward her. "Lena, his brother is alive. He's the one who frame Ethan tonight."
Lena’s eyes narrowed, but she didn't look entirely surprised. She reached inside her coat, pulling out a silenced tactical pistol and racking the slide with a clean, practiced motion.
"I know," Lena said grimly. "Ethan suspected Lucas was alive six months ago when someone tried to compromise the foundation’s offshore accounts. We’re coming with you."
"He told me to come alone," I warned.
"Lucas Carter doesn't make the rules in this city," Lena replied coolly, signaling to two armed security guards who stepped out from the SUV's darkened rear seats. "We go in together, clear the structure, and secure whatever evidence he's holding."
We pushed open the heavy wooden front doors. The air inside smelled of damp concrete, wet ash, and old, decaying paper. Rain dripped rhythmically through the collapsed roof above, echoing through the cavernous foyer.
"Lucas!" I shouted, my flashlight beam cutting through the darkness. "I'm here! I brought the key!"
May you like
A sudden, sharp mechanical click echoed from the far end of the hallway.
A vintage slide projector sitting on a rusted metal desk in the middle of the corridor suddenly whirred to life, throwing a bright, square beam of yellow light against the peeling plaster wall ahead of us.
