Chapter 6 - The House Without an Address
We traced the call.
Burner phone.
Signal bounced between towers west of Austin.
Too broad.
Then Maya helped us.
Not intentionally.
She was drawing while Leo slept.
A house.
A red roof.
Three trees.
A black horse.
I nearly ignored it.
Then she drew a white circle on a hill.
“What is that?”
“The big ball.”
Observatory dome.
There were only a handful of private properties west of Austin matching that geography.
Dominic identified one.
Blackridge Estate.
Owned through a shell corporation.
We searched the corporation.
The registered manager was Dr. Malcolm Voss.
Cardiologist.
St. Catherine Medical Center.
The doctor who signed Ethan's death certificate.
We had our connection.
Police moved.
I went too.
Ramirez hated it.
She also understood she wasn't stopping me.
Blackridge appeared empty.
Then officers found blood near a rear entrance.
Not much.
Ava's backpack lay beside it.
Inside was a photograph of Caroline.
We entered.
No Rebecca.
No Ethan.
Then Dominic found a hidden elevator.
It descended beneath the house.
The doors opened into something that looked less like a basement and more like a private clinic.
Medical beds.
Locked rooms.
Computers.
Files.
On one wall were photographs of children.
Including Leo and Maya.
Under each photograph was financial information.
Trusts.
Insurance.
Inheritance.
Guardians.
Rebecca hadn't built a kidnapping operation.
She had built an information system.
She identified children whose existence stood between adults and money.
Then sold access to someone willing to solve the “problem.”
Ramirez stared at the records.
“This is bigger than Rebecca.”
Much bigger.
Then a monitor activated.
Rebecca appeared on-screen.
Recorded message.
Elegant.
Calm.
“You're probably furious, Thomas.”
I stepped closer.
“If Leo reached you, then I underestimated him.”
My hands tightened.
“But before you decide I'm the monster, ask why your brother hid from you.”
The image changed.
A document appeared.
Moretti family trust.
My father's signature.
Then mine.
Rebecca continued.
“Leo and Maya inherited something Ethan never told you about.”
I knew the trust existed.
But not its current value.
Then Rebecca smiled.
“Your nephew isn't merely Ethan's son.”
What did that mean?
The screen changed again.
DNA report.
Leo Moretti.
Thomas Moretti.
Probability of biological paternity—
I stopped reading.
Impossible.
Ramirez looked at me.
Dominic whispered:
“Boss…”
Rebecca's voice continued.
“Your brother spent six years raising a child everyone believed was his.”
My stomach turned.
Then another line appeared.
May you like
The alleged father wasn't Ethan.
It was me.
