Chapter 6 - The Fourth Person
We found the woman’s name inside a federal witness database at sunrise.
Marisol Vega.
Former financial officer for Prescott Holdings.
Reported missing seven years earlier.
Presumed dead.
Emily had seen her alive.
That meant one thing.
The blue room was not a rumor.
And the Prescott family had been hiding people for years.
Reyes called for a tactical team.
I wanted to go with them.
He refused.
“No.”
“I'm going.”
“No.”
“She is my daughter.”
“That doesn't make you bulletproof.”
“I've spent twenty-eight years in the Army.”
“And that makes you exactly the kind of person who thinks she can walk into a dangerous house because she's trained.”
I stared at him.
“You've got a death wish.”
“So do you.”
We held each other's gaze.
Then Emily spoke.
“Mom.”
I turned.
“Don't go into that house angry.”
Her voice shook.
“That's what they want.”
She handed me the memory card.
“Take this.”
“I thought it was evidence.”
“It is.”
She looked at Reyes.
“But there's one file I never showed you.”
He frowned.
“Which file?”
Emily pressed a password into the laptop.
A video opened.
A hallway.
Blue walls.
A door.
Someone was crying behind it.
Then Margaret entered the frame.
She carried a folder.
Behind her was General Vale.
I stepped closer.
Margaret said:
“If she talks, the Colonel becomes a problem.”
Vale answered:
“She won't.”
Margaret laughed.
“David said that too.”
Then the camera turned.
A younger Ethan appeared.
He looked terrified.
Not cruel.
Terrified.
Emily's voice came softly behind us.
“That was three years ago.”
I turned.
“Why didn't you show me this?”
“Because Ethan told me if I did, they'd kill you.”
I stared at her.
“You stayed with him because you were protecting me?”
She cried.
“I thought I was.”
I pulled her into my arms.
“You should have told me.”
“I know.”
Reyes watched us.
Then the video continued.
Margaret placed the folder on a table.
A name was visible.
VICTORIA HART.
I felt my blood freeze.
Margaret opened it.
Inside were photographs of me.
My military career.
My deployments.
My family.
My daughter.
Then she said something I would never forget.
“She doesn't know her own husband was working for us.”
Vale replied:
“David wasn't working for you.”
Margaret smiled.
“He was working for himself.”
Then the video cut.
Reyes stopped it.
“That's enough.”
“No.”
“Colonel.”
“We're going to the estate.”
He shook his head.
“You're not.”
“Then I'll go without you.”
He sighed.
“That might be the stupidest thing you've said tonight.”
“Then come with me.”
He stared at me for several seconds.
Finally he nodded.
“Fine.”
The Prescott estate was less than forty minutes from Charlotte.
Black gates.
Private security.
Cameras.
A stone mansion surrounded by old trees.
When we arrived, the gates were open.
That was wrong.
Reyes noticed too.
“No one leaves the gates open.”
We entered.
The house looked abandoned.
Furniture covered in white cloth.
No employees.
No cars.
Emily remained at the hospital.
Reyes and two agents searched room by room.
We found nothing.
Then we reached the east wing.
Blue walls.
Exactly as Emily described.
A door.
Locked.
Reyes forced it open.
The room was empty.
Except for a metal chair.
A bloodstained restraint.
And a small camera.
I stared at it.
“They knew we were coming.”
Reyes looked toward the ceiling.
“Everyone out.”
A sound came from behind the wall.
Three knocks.
Then three more.
I froze.
“Did you hear that?”
Reyes nodded.
We knocked back.
Three.
Three.
Three.
A hidden panel slid open.
Inside was a narrow passage.
A woman crawled out.
She was thin.
Exhausted.
Scar above her eyebrow.
Marisol Vega.
She looked at me.
Then whispered:
“David told me you'd come.”
My breath caught.
“Where is he?”
Marisol shook her head.
“He isn't dead.”
The words barely escaped her.
“Where is my husband?”
She looked over her shoulder.
“They have him.”
“Who?”
“Everyone.”
“That doesn't make sense.”
“It will.”
“Where?”
Marisol reached into her coat and pulled out a photograph.
It showed David.
Alive.
Older.
Standing in a dark room.
Beside him was another man.
I recognized him.
Secretary Adrian Cole.
The senior civilian official who had approved my husband's final military assignment.
I stared at the photograph.
Marisol whispered:
“The Prescotts aren't the people running this.”
“Then who is?”
She looked straight at me.
“Your own government.”
Before I could respond, gunfire exploded outside.
Reyes shoved me to the floor.
Glass shattered.
Someone screamed.
Marisol disappeared through the passage.
Reyes raised his weapon.
“Stay down!”
I reached for my sidearm.
My holster was empty.
I remembered the broken car.
My weapon had been stolen.
Then a voice echoed through the mansion.
“Colonel Hart!”
General Vale.
“Come outside.”
Another burst of gunfire.
Vale's voice continued.
“We can still fix this.”
Reyes looked at me.
May you like
I looked at him.
Then the house went dark.
