Blackwood

The Tracker

George pulled back from the hug and looked at Christopher.

The boy was smaller than he expected. Thin. Dark circles under his eyes. He looked like he hadn't slept well in weeks.

"You're really my brother?" Christopher asked.

"I'm really your brother."

"How come I never met you before?"

George glanced at Elizabeth. She gave a small nod.

"Because I didn't know about you," George said. "No one told me. I just found out tonight."

Christopher processed that. His face went through several emotions—confusion, hurt, then a hard anger that looked too old for a twelve-year-old.

"Just like no one told me about my father," Christopher said. "Mom said he was away on business. But I'm not stupid. I know he's someone important. I know he has money."

Elizabeth put a hand on Christopher's shoulder. "We'll talk about it later. Right now, we need to get inside."

The apartment was small but clean. Two bedrooms, a living room with a pull-out couch, a kitchen with chipped countertops. Family photos covered the walls—Christopher at different ages, Elizabeth with an older woman George didn't recognize, a few pictures of Christopher with a dark-haired girl.

"Who's that?" George pointed at the girl.

"Abigail. My sister." Elizabeth's voice was tight. "She lives in Providence. She doesn't know about any of this."

George filed that away. He helped Eleanor to the couch. His mother looked exhausted. Her hands were shaking.

"When did you last eat?" George asked.

Eleanor shook her head. "I don't remember."

Elizabeth went to the kitchen and started heating up soup. George sat across from his mother and took her hands again.

"Mom. I need you to tell me everything. From the beginning."

Eleanor took a shaky breath. "Your father and I married in 1982. I loved him. I thought he loved me. But Julian Blackwood doesn't love anyone. He collects people. Uses them. Discards them when they're no longer useful."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean he's not just a businessman, George. He's a criminal. The money—the family fortune—it didn't come from smart investments. It came from fraud. Bribes. Things I can't even say out loud."

George's heart pounded. He'd suspected this for years. But hearing it from his mother's mouth made it real.

"I found out about the offshore accounts in 2005. I confronted him. He said I didn't understand. That he was protecting the family." Eleanor's voice cracked. "Then I found out about Christopher. About Elizabeth. About the baby he'd had with another woman."

"He didn't have a baby with me," Elizabeth called from the kitchen. "Christopher isn't Julian's son."

George turned. "What?"

Elizabeth walked into the living room, holding a bowl of soup. She set it down in front of Eleanor.

"Christopher is my son. But Julian isn't his father." Elizabeth sat down across from George. "Julian is his grandfather."

The room went silent.

George looked at Christopher. The boy was standing in the doorway to his bedroom, watching.

"Christopher," Elizabeth said gently. "Go to your room. Put your headphones on. I'll come get you in a little while."

Christopher didn't argue. He disappeared into his room and closed the door.

Elizabeth turned back to George. "When I was twenty-two, I got pregnant. The father was a man I'd been seeing. He was older. Married. He didn't want the baby. Told me to get rid of it or he'd make sure I lost my job."

"Who was he?"

Elizabeth's jaw tightened. "Vincent."

George felt like he'd been punched in the chest. "Vincent? My brother Vincent?"

"Your brother Vincent. He was thirty then. I was a nursing student. He came to the clinic where I worked. He was charming. Handsome. Rich." Her voice was bitter. "I was young and stupid."

"Vincent is Christopher's father?"

"No. I told Vincent I was pregnant. He said he'd take care of it. The next day, Julian showed up at my apartment. He offered me money to disappear. To have an abortion and never tell anyone."

"But you didn't."

"No. I couldn't. I told Julian I was keeping the baby. He threatened me. Said he'd ruin my career. Destroy my family. Then he offered me a different deal."

"What deal?"

"He said he'd take care of me and the baby. Pay for everything. Give me a house, a car, money for college. But I had to pretend the baby was his. That Julian was the father."

"Why would he want that?"

Elizabeth leaned forward. "Because Vincent was about to get married. To a woman from a very important family. A scandal—an illegitimate child—would have ruined the marriage. Ruined the business relationship. Julian couldn't let that happen."

"So he claimed Christopher as his own."

"He claimed Christopher as his own. He told everyone he'd had an affair. That I was his mistress. He took the shame so Vincent could stay clean." Elizabeth's eyes were wet. "Julian protected his son. Just not the way anyone thought."

George stood up. He walked to the window and stared out at the dark street. His mind was reeling.

Vincent had a son. A son he'd abandoned. And Julian had covered it up by pretending to be the father himself.

"That's why Vincent has been trying to destroy the company," George said slowly. "He found out. Somehow, he found out the truth."

Elizabeth nodded. "He found out six months ago. Confronted Julian. Julian admitted everything. Told Vincent that Christopher was his responsibility. That he needed to step up."

"And Vincent?"

"Vincent wanted Christopher out of the picture. Wanted to pay me off and pretend we never existed." Elizabeth's voice hardened. "I said no. That's when the threats started."

George turned from the window. "The text messages. 'Tell him, Julian. Or I will.' That was Vincent?"

"No. That was Eleanor."

George looked at his mother. Eleanor was crying silently, her soup untouched.

"I sent those messages," Eleanor said. "I wanted Julian to tell the truth. To stop lying. To stop hiding." She wiped her eyes. "But he wouldn't. He said the truth would destroy the family. I told him the lies had already destroyed it."

"So you took him?"

"No. I asked Elizabeth to help me get him somewhere safe. Somewhere he couldn't hurt anyone else." Eleanor looked at Elizabeth. "I didn't know about the kidnapping. I didn't know she was going to take him like that."

Elizabeth's face was stone. "It was the only way. Julian wouldn't listen. He wouldn't stop. He was going to hurt Eleanor again. Or worse. I couldn't let that happen."

George sat down heavily. His head was spinning.

"So let me get this straight. Vincent is Christopher's real father. Julian covered it up to protect Vincent's marriage. Vincent found out and wants Christopher gone. Mom found out and wants the truth exposed. And you—" he looked at Elizabeth "—you just want to protect your son."

"Yes."

"And my father? Where is he now?"

Elizabeth hesitated. "Somewhere safe. I can't tell you where. Not yet."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't trust you."

George stared at her. "You brought me here. You told me all of this. And you don't trust me?"

"I trust that you want the truth. I don't trust that you'll choose the right side once you have it." Elizabeth stood up. "Your mother is safe here. Christopher is safe here. You need to go back to the estate and find out who's really running things."

"Vincent?"

"Maybe. Or Arthur. Or someone else entirely." Elizabeth walked to the door. "Julian has enemies, George. Real enemies. People who want him dead. If you don't find out who they are before they find him, your father won't survive the week."

George stood up. "I'm not leaving my mother here alone."

"She won't be alone. I'll be here. And Abigail will be here in the morning."

"Abigail?"

"My sister. She's a paralegal. She's been helping me build a case against Julian for months." Elizabeth opened the door. "Go, George. Find the truth. Then come back and we'll decide what to do next."

George looked at his mother. Eleanor nodded.

"Go," she said. "I'll be fine."

George walked to the door. He stopped next to Elizabeth.

"If anything happens to her—"

"Nothing will happen to her. I've been protecting her for a year. I can protect her for one more night."

George stepped out into the hallway. The door closed behind him.

He stood there for a moment, alone in the dim light. Then he walked down the stairs and out into the parking lot.

The truck was gone. Elizabeth must have moved it.

He was stranded.

He pulled out his phone to call Arthur—then remembered he'd thrown it in the river. No. Elizabeth had thrown it in the river. But the tracker was in his belt buckle.

His father's belt buckle. The one Julian had given him for his twenty-second birthday. The one he'd worn every day for five years.

George unbuckled his belt and examined the metal. There was a small seam on the back—a seam that shouldn't be there.

He pried it open with his fingernail.

Inside, a tiny chip. Smaller than a grain of rice.

A GPS tracker.

George stared at it. Julian had been tracking him for five years. Every step. Every move. Every time he'd gone to the police, to the federal investigators, to anyone who might help him bring down the Blackwood empire.

Julian had known all along.

George crushed the chip under his heel. Then he looked up at the apartment building.

The lights were on in 2B.

And in the street, at the end of the block, a pair of headlights turned on.

The car was black. No markings. The engine was silent.

It started moving toward him.

George didn't run. He stood still, watching the car approach.

It stopped ten feet away. The passenger window rolled down.

Maya was behind the wheel.

"Get in," she said.

George didn't move. "How did you find me?"

"Tracker on Elizabeth's truck. I've been following her for months." Maya's face was unreadable. "Get in, George. We need to talk. And you need to see something."

"What?"

"The truth about your father. The real truth." Maya unlocked the doors. "The version Elizabeth doesn't know."

George looked back at the apartment. Then at Maya.

He got in the car.

Maya pulled away from the curb. The apartment building disappeared in the rearview mirror.

"Where are we going?" George asked.

"To see someone. Someone who's been waiting a long time to meet you."

"Who?"

Maya didn't answer. She just drove.

The city lights faded behind them. The road turned dark and winding. Trees pressed in on both sides.

After thirty minutes, Maya pulled into a gravel driveway. At the end was a small house—a cabin, really. Old. Isolated. No lights on inside.

Maya parked and cut the engine.

"He's inside," she said.

"Who?"

"Your father."

George's blood ran cold. "Julian is here? Elizabeth said he was somewhere safe."

"Elizabeth doesn't know where he is. No one does. Except me." Maya got out of the car. "I took him, George. Not Elizabeth. Not Eleanor. Me."

George got out slowly. His hands were shaking.

"Why?"

"Because Elizabeth was going to kill him. She wasn't protecting him. She was setting him up." Maya walked toward the cabin. "She's been lying to you. To Eleanor. To everyone."

"Then why did she bring me to her apartment? Why tell me all those stories?"

"Because she needs you to trust her. She needs you to believe that Julian is the villain. So when he turns up dead, you'll help her bury the truth."

George stopped at the cabin door. "And Vincent? Christopher? The affair?"

"Some of it is true. Vincent is Christopher's father. Julian did cover it up. But Elizabeth isn't a victim, George. She's a predator. She's been planning this for years."

Maya opened the door.

Inside, sitting on a couch, with his hands bound and a gag in his mouth, was Julian Blackwood.

His eyes widened when he saw George.

Maya walked to Julian and removed the gag.

Julian took a breath. Then he looked at his youngest son.

"George," he said. His voice was hoarse. "Thank God. You have to listen to me. Maya isn't protecting me. She's holding me hostage. And Elizabeth? Elizabeth is the least of our problems."

"Then who's the biggest problem?"

Julian's face was pale.

"Arthur," he said. "Arthur has been running everything. The money. The threats. The kidnapping. He's been playing you from the start."

The front door slammed open.

Arthur walked in, holding a gun.

"Sorry, Dad," Arthur said. "But George needed to hear that from you. So he'd know how much it hurts when someone you trust betrays you."

He aimed the gun at George.

"Now. Let's talk about how this ends."