Chapter 4 - The Second Front
The rain outside the mansion seemed to intensify, drumming a frantic, violent tattoo against the broken windowpanes of the guest suite.
"Lieutenant Vance!" I shouted over my shoulder, pulling Audrey gently to her feet. She was shaking so hard she could barely support her own weight, but the moment I mentioned her daughter, a fierce, primal survival instinct locked into her eyes.
Vance pushed through the splintered doorway, his tactical carbine lowered to a low-ready position. "Sir? What’s our status?"
"We have a secondary target," I said sharply, my mind racing through every piece of intelligence I had gathered on the Thorne family over the past three years. "Julian’s aunt—Beatrice Thorne—lives in the ancestral estate on Ridge Road in Winnetka. Arthur and Miriam sent my granddaughter there earlier this evening under the guise of a weekend visit."
Vance’s expression hardened instantly. He tapped his comms unit. "Command, this is Vance. We need an immediate intercept unit dispatched to the Ridge Road property in Winnetka. Code three. Repeat, code three."
"Dad," Audrey gasped, clutching my arm as we walked out into the hallway. "Beatrice... she’s not just difficult. When Julian and I first talked about separating six months ago, Beatrice threatened to make sure I 'disappeared' if I ever tried to take Lily out of their custody circle. She’s completely unhinged. She keeps private security guards on the property twenty-four hours a day."
"Private security won't mean a damn thing against a state police tactical warrant," I said grimly, guiding her down the service stairs toward the front foyer where Arthur and Julian were currently being loaded into separate transport vans.
As we stepped out onto the front porch, the searchlight from the police chopper swept across the wet driveway.
Arthur was thrashing against the officers as they pushed him into the back of a black-and-white cruiser, his silk robe stained with mud and his hair plastered to his forehead. He spotted me walking down the steps with Audrey leaning heavily against my side.
"You're making a catastrophic mistake!" Arthur screamed, spitting spittle against the squad car window as an officer slammed the door shut. "You think you've won? Beatrice has the girl! You'll never see your granddaughter again!"
Julian, sitting handcuffed in the neighboring cruiser, looked out through the rain-streaked glass with a dead, hollow stare. He didn't yell. He just watched us with a quiet, venomous malice that chilled me straight to the bone.
I didn't give them the satisfaction of a response.
"Get in my truck, Audrey," I said, opening the passenger door of the old Ford and helping her inside. I cranked the heater up to maximum, wrapped a spare wool blanket from behind the seat around her shoulders, and handed her a bottle of water from my console.
"Drink this, honey. We're going to get Lily."
Lieutenant Vance jogged over from the tactical transport van, pulling down his hood as the rain poured off the brim of his tactical cap.
"Mr. Bennett, my team is rolling out to Ridge Road right now," Vance said, his tone professional and urgent. "We'll lead the way. But I need to warn you—Beatrice Thorne’s estate is an old limestone fortress built during the Prohibition era. It has reinforced security gates, private guards, and multiple blind spots. If she decides to lock down before we breach, it could take twenty minutes to get through the perimeter."
"Twenty minutes is too long," I said, shifting my truck into gear and revving the engine. "Beatrice is old-school corrupt. If she realizes her brother and nephew have been arrested, she won't wait for legal counsel—she’ll pack Lily into a private car and try to smuggle her across the state line to their family estate in Michigan."
Vance studied my face for a heartbeat, recognizing the cold, unyielding resolve in an old soldier's eyes.
"Alright," Vance nodded. "Fall in directly behind my transport. We'll ram the security gate if we have to. But Mr. Bennett—let my tactical team handle the breach. You stay back with your daughter."
"I'm staying with the lead element," I replied flatly. "I know the floor plan of that house. My late wife and I used to do landscaping architecture consulting for their estate back in the nineties. I know where the hidden service tunnels are."
Vance didn't argue. He turned, sprinted back to his transport, and slammed the door.
The convoy of state police cruisers tore down the winding private driveway of Silver Street, their emergency lights painting the dark, storm-drenched trees in flashing bars of crimson and blue.
I looked across the cab at Audrey. She was clutching her phone—which Vance’s team had recovered from a downstairs security desk—her knuckles white, staring at a frozen picture of Lily smiling on a playground swing.
"We're coming, baby," Audrey whispered to the screen, a single tear slipping down her cheek to mix with the rain dripping from her hair. "Hang on."
The drive to Ridge Road in Winnetka took twelve agonizing minutes through flooded streets and blinding sheets of rain. Every red light was ignored under police escort, the heavy diesel engine of my truck roaring as we pushed past stalled traffic on the interstate slip road.
As we crested the hill on Ridge Road, the imposing silhouette of the Thorne ancestral estate loomed out of the dark.
It was a massive, three-story limestone manor surrounded by a twelve-foot wrought-iron fence topped with razor wire and security cameras. The heavy iron front gates were currently closed tight, glowing with the amber light of a call-box security station.
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And parked right behind the gate, blocking the driveway, was a black armored SUV belonging to the estate's private security detail.
"Target acquired," Vance’s voice crackled over the radio channel. "Prepare to breach."
