Chapter 3 - The Franklin Connection
"Get in!" I yelled, pulling Chloe into my arms and sprinting the remaining thirty yards into the concrete garage.
Elise ran right at my heels, her heels clicking loudly against the wet pavement. Behind us, the engine of the black sedan roared to life, tires squealing as it accelerated around the street corner to block the garage exit.
We reached my SUV just as the sedan swung into the entrance of the garage. I slammed the key fob button, unlocking the doors, shoved Chloe safely into the backseat, and pushed Elise into the passenger side before sliding behind the wheel. I hit the engine start button; the V8 engine roared to life.
"Hold on!" I shouted.
Instead of trying to squeeze past the sedan blocking the main ramp, I slammed the gear shifter into reverse, stomped on the gas, and backed the SUV up the steep concrete ramp toward the second-floor commercial exit that led out onto a side avenue. The tires screeched against the smooth concrete. Down below, the doors of the black sedan flew open, and two men in heavy coats stepped out, but by the time they reached the ramp, we had cleared the upper gate, smashed through the wooden security barrier, and burst onto the rainy street.
I took three rapid, erratic turns through the downtown grid, checking my rearview mirror constantly until the dark streets behind us were clear of any headlights.
In the back seat, Chloe was crouched down low, her hands covering her ears. Elise was sobbing silently in the passenger seat, her head buried in her hands.
"They followed us," Elise choked out, looking at me with pure terror. "Damian, how did they find us at the restaurant?!"
"They didn't find us at the restaurant—they were tailing you from the art school," I realized aloud, keeping my eyes fixed on the road as I drove toward my commercial property on the north side of town. "When you picked up Chloe, they were already behind you. They were waiting to see where you’d take her."
"Why Chloe?" Elise asked, turning around to reach into the back seat and wrap her arm around her niece. "She’s just a child! Why would anyone want Chloe?!"
"Because Chloe saw them," I said quietly, the realization settling heavily in my gut. "Chloe was at the house when they took Jenna. She escaped or hid, and Jenna told her to run to the school. Chloe is the only witness who can identify who broke into that house."
I pulled the SUV into the underground parking bay of a sleek, three-story brick building—the headquarters of my logistics and property firm. The heavy steel door rolled down behind us, sealing us inside.
Once inside my private office on the second floor, I locked the door, pulled the heavy shades over the windows, and turned on a single desk lamp. I grabbed a dry towel from the executive bathroom and handed it to Elise, then fetched a juice box and a box of crackers from the breakroom mini-fridge for Chloe.
Chloe sat on the leather sofa, quietly chewing on a cracker while her eyes followed my every move. She wasn't crying. She possessed a strange, quiet resilience that struck me deeply.
"Elise," I said, leaning against the front of my desk and crossing my arms. "It’s time to tell me everything. What does Jenna actually do at that logistics firm in Franklin?"
Elise wiped her eyes with the towel, her breathing slowly evening out. "She... she’s a senior forensic auditor. She was hired six months ago by a company called Apex Distribution Holdings. She reviews shipping manifests, inventory discrepancies, international customs documents..."
I froze. "Apex Distribution?"
Elise looked up. "Yes. Do you know them?"
"I own a commercial freight routing company," I said, my jaw tightening. "Apex Distribution is currently under federal investigation by the Department of Homeland Security for customs fraud and illegal trafficking through the Port of Charleston. Their main Midwest hub is in Franklin."
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Elise’s mouth dropped open. "Jenna... Jenna told me last week she found a major accounting error on their internal servers. She said she was going to bring it to her supervisor on Monday..."
"She didn't find an error," I said grimly. "She found the paper trail proving their illegal operations. And they knew she found it."
