the lives of these magnificent creatures were brutally taken, but there’s beauty here as well. A weird dissonance consumes me as I admire and hate everything in this room.
Max continues forward. The slow chugging of his breath the only sound I hear. Knox finally comes to the far end of the room. He places his hand on the door and closes his eyes. Next, he leans close and puts his ear to the wood.
Long seconds pass.
With a look to Max, he gives the signal.
Again, Max is the one to open the door. Knox is the first one through. Max follows, and I trail behind them both. Once in the hall, I point to the left. We head that way until we come to the entrance of that courtyard I hate so much.
It stands empty, except for that pole. Last time I was here, I thought Max was a monster fighting for the right to have me. Little did I know the truth. It’s sobering, really, knowing he willingly put his life on the line to save mine. I don’t think I would be that brave.
I could never be that selfless.
Max and Knox pause yet again. It’s incredible watching them work together. We move at what seems to be a snail’s pace yet continue to cover a great deal of ground.
As we work our way to Benefield’s office, I’m well aware how far it takes us from getting out of here.
Knox mentioned something about a breach. I can only assume those explosions created holes in the defensive walls which surround this place. Those holes are, more than likely, heavily defended by Benefield’s men by now.
I don’t see how we’re getting out that way, but Max doesn’t seem concerned. If he’s not worried, I won’t be either. He asked if I trusted him.
I trust him with my life.
We cross the courtyard without incident. I give that pole a heated glare as we pass, but that’s it. There’s no time to think about the agony I endured tied there for hours or the fight between Max and the other man.
Once we pass through the courtyard, we turn left at the next intersection.
Distant gunshots sound off to the right. I want to ask Max about that. Who are Benefield’s guards shooting at?
“Second door on the right,” I whisper to Max, although there’s no reason to tell him where to go. He and Knox seem to know this place nearly as well as I do.
Knox pauses at the door. He listens again. Another nod. Max reaches for the doorknob. He twists. It doesn’t budge.
Locked.
I didn’t think about that.
Not that it stops Max. He takes the butt end of his weapon and slams it down hard on the handle. The doorknob falls to the floor, and just like that, we’re in.
Max moves us inside, then shuts the door behind us.
“Where?” He glances around the room, but he’s not going to find the ledger.
Benefield keeps it hidden.
I release the death grip I have on Max’s waistband and head directly to the small secretary desk pushed into an unobtrusive corner. Benefield’s massive mahogany desk dominates the room, but he doesn’t keep anything important there.
I also know where he keeps the key to the secretary’s desk. I fish around in a nearby fern until I find the long metal key. Moving quickly, I unlock the desk, roll back the top, and locate the secret compartment where the ledger is kept.
I pull it out and hold it tight to my chest.
I have it. I have all the names. All the lives. And if I don’t know what to do with it, Max and whoever he works with certainly must. A stack of papers on the desk catches my eye. I lean forward.
“Eve, we need to leave.” Max joins me at the desk while Knox guards the door.
My hand moves on its own to the stack of papers. Not papers really. They’re bills of lading. I flip through them, not believing what I’m seeing.
“Eve?”
Bills of lading. Documents of title. Receipts for shipped goods. Contracts between a carrier and shipper. Documents that accompany shipped goods, signed by authorized representatives of the carrier, the shipper, and the receiver.
Benefield’s name flows across the paper. Then there’s another name, one I don’t know. Finally, there’s a third name. A name I know all too well; Carson Deverough.
My father.
The bottom drops out of my world. My father. His name is on every document. I flip through the sheaf of papers as everything I thought I knew