Drink the tea, Julian, you look exhausted after the campaign rally, my father-in-law, Senator Arthur Montgomery, said softly as he patted my shoulder.
Back in the relative safety of my apartment, the city lights blurred outside the window. Lily sat curled on the sofa beside me, a small blanket tucked around her. Her eyes, wide and innocent, searched my face.
“Daddy,” she began, her voice a soft murmur in the quiet room. “Mommy told me to find you.”
My heart clenched. “Mommy?” I prompted gently, barely daring to breathe.
Lily nodded, twisting a loose thread on the blanket. “The men in the dark suits. They brought me to the city sometimes. And Mommy said if they ever did that, I had to find Daddy at the Capitol.”
A chill snaked up my spine. My wife, planning for an escape, for a reunion, even from inside her prison.
“Where was Mommy, sweetie?” I asked, my voice strained. “Where did she live?”
Lily pointed vaguely towards the window. “It was far away. A big white house in the woods. Like a castle, but quiet. And her room had a lock. The men were always there.”
A lock. Men in dark suits. A secluded house in the woods. It mirrored the PAC lease agreement I’d found, the compound details.
“Did you ever see Mommy upset?” I asked, needing to know.
Lily frowned. “Sometimes she would cry, when she thought I was sleeping. But mostly, she was quiet. She told me stories about you. And she made me promise. If I ever saw her get in a car to go far away, far away forever, I had to tell you.”
Forever. Liquidation. The word Montgomery would use. My blood ran cold. Clara was alive, but she was in imminent danger. Lily, in her innocent recounting, had given me more than a memory; she had given me a desperate plea for rescue, a ticking clock I hadn’t even known was counting down.
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