Chapter 56 - The Whispering Mill
Ellis moved swiftly to the window, keeping his body partially concealed behind the heavy drapes. He looked down through the driving sleet toward the courtyard below.
"Two black sedans," Ellis said, his jaw tightening. "Parked across the double yellow line. No license plates."
"Raymond’s old mill enforcers," Eleanor said with a shudder. "The men from the Pigeon River. Even if Raymond is in handcuffs, they won't let that ledger leave Chicago. If that 1962 arson evidence reaches the federal prosecutor, those men will spend the rest of their lives in prison as accessories to murder."
Down in the street, three figures in heavy canvas coats stepped out of the cars, their collars turned up against the snow, walking purposefully toward the clinic's private entrance.
"The police took Raymond out through the front," Ellis said, assessing the tactical situation rapidly. "The lobby is full of officers and federal agents, but the service elevator in the west wing bypasses the main desk entirely. They’re coming up the maintenance stairwell."
"We can't let them destroy this," I said, hastily packing the journals, the maps, and the silver cylinder back into the iron case.
"We aren't going to," Ellis said. He pulled a spare magazine from his jacket pocket and clicked it into his sidearm. "Abigail, take your mother through the third-floor skybridge into the pediatric annex. There’s an exit that leads to the doctor’s parking structure. My truck is parked in stall 42."
"I am not leaving you behind, Ellis," I said firmly, grabbing his sleeve.
"You’re not leaving me behind; you’re securing the evidence," Ellis replied, looking directly into my eyes with that unshakable, quiet strength that had carried me through every trial since my wedding day. "I’ll slow them down at the stairwell door. As soon as you hear the fire alarm, you run. Don't look back."
He pressed the keys to his truck into my palm, leaned forward, and kissed my forehead.
Before I could protest, the heavy steel door at the end of the private corridor rattled violently. Someone was trying the handle from the stairwell.
Ellis turned, drew his weapon, and kicked the sunroom's emergency fire lever down with the heel of his boot.
A piercing siren erupted through the ceiling speakers, accompanied by flashing white strobe lights.
May you like
"Go!" Ellis yelled.
I grabbed the handles of my mother’s wheelchair with one hand, clamped the heavy iron dispatch case under my arm, and pushed Eleanor through the double fire doors toward the skybridge just as the corridor door burst open behind us with the splintering crack of crowbars.
