Chapter 3 - Six Minutes
“Get the system back.”
Lena was already working on it.
“I can’t. Someone disabled the main recorder.”
“Remote backup?”
“Still uploading to your cloud account. We have everything until the shutdown.”
“Good.”
My hands were shaking, so I shoved them into my pockets.
I had spent fifteen years building companies from nothing, negotiating acquisitions in rooms full of men who wanted to tear me apart, and surviving lawsuits that ran for years.
None of that had prepared me to watch my son disappear behind a locked door while I sat trapped inside an airplane.
“Police are two minutes away,” Lena said.
I called the house line.
No answer.
I called Rebecca.
Straight to voicemail.
I called Caleb.
He answered on the third ring.
“Ethan.”
His voice was too calm.
“Where is my son?”
A pause.
“With Rebecca, I assume.”
“Wrong answer.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“I watched you walk into my house.”
Silence.
Then Caleb exhaled slowly.
“You’re on a plane.”
“Not anymore for long.”
I heard movement behind him.
A car door.
“You should stay focused on your meeting,” he said. “Everything here is handled.”
“Police are at the gate.”
The call ended.
On the gate camera—still running on a separate system—I saw Caleb’s SUV tear across the lawn instead of using the driveway.
“He’s running,” Lena said.
The vehicle smashed through a low hedge and disappeared toward the service road.
Thirty seconds later, two police cruisers pulled up.
I stayed on video with the dispatcher while officers entered the house.
“Upstairs,” I told them. “East wing. Guest bedroom. There is a lock on the outside.”
We heard boots pounding over hardwood through the open phone line.
Then a crash.
“Police! Anybody inside?”
My heart stopped.
Another crash.
Then an officer shouted, “Child down! We need EMS upstairs now!”
I closed my eyes.
“Is he breathing?” I yelled into the phone.
No one answered me for four full seconds.
Then a paramedic came on.
“He’s breathing, sir.”
I nearly collapsed into the seat.
“Is he awake?”
“Not fully.”
“Where is Rebecca?”
“We’re checking the property.”
I heard another voice in the background.
“Kitchen clear.”
“Garage clear.”
Then someone shouted from downstairs.
“Officer! We found blood.”
My eyes opened.
“Whose blood?”
The dispatcher did not answer.
Instead, the paramedic lowered his voice.
“Mr. Cole, there’s something else in the bedroom with your son.”
“What?”
“A suitcase.”
May you like
He paused.
“It’s packed with Henry’s clothes.”
