Chapter 3 - The Empty House
We did not go to the safe house right away.
I begged Ramirez to take us to my mother's sprawling suburban home first.
I needed to see if she had left any clues about where they were taking my children.
Ramirez kicked the front door open, his gun drawn and ready for an ambush.
The house was eerily silent, completely stripped of photographs, personal items, and any signs of life.
"They wiped this place clean," Ramirez muttered, holstering his weapon as he searched the living room.
I limped heavily on my crutches, pushing my way into my mother's home office.
The heavy oak desk had been cleared off, but I knew my mother's habits better than anyone.
I dropped to my knees, ignoring the sharp pain shooting up my damaged leg.
I felt underneath the bottom drawer, searching for the hidden panel she used to hide her valuables.
My fingers brushed against a small metal latch, and a hidden compartment popped open.
Inside was a thick manila folder and a stack of passports secured with a rubber band.
I opened the passports and felt the air leave my lungs completely.
There were passports for my mother, Kevin, and my two beautiful children.
There was also a passport for a man named Arthur Vance.
The photograph matched the face of my supposedly dead father, only aged by twelve years.
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They had new identities, offshore bank accounts, and a flight booked to Argentina.
The flight was scheduled to leave in exactly six hours.
