Chapter 5 - The Siege at the Cottage
Instead of heading directly to Pier 4, Detective Vance set a trap using an undercover surveillance team, while Clara, Lily, and I were escorted under armed guard to my old lakefront cottage forty miles outside the city limits—a property Julian had no official record of knowing about.
Or so we thought.
The cottage was built of heavy stone and thick oak beams by my husband back in 1968. It sat at the end of a long gravel driveway surrounded by dense pine woods. Rain had begun to fall, tapping softly against the tall glass windows overlooking the black water of the lake.
Two armed officers were stationed at the front gate, while Detective Vance remained inside with us, monitoring radio updates from the police task force searching Pier 4.
"They found the red motorcycle abandoned near the docks," Vance reported at 8:00 PM, pouring himself a mug of black coffee in my kitchen. "It was a decoy. Julian and Eleanor never intended to meet you at Pier 4. They wanted to draw our primary tactical units to the waterfront while they hunted for where we took you."
Clara was feeding Lily in the adjoining room, the soft clinking of the glass bottle echoing in the quiet house. "How could they find us here? This place is in my mother’s maiden name."
"Because Julian spent three weeks going through my study while Clara was at her doctor appointments," I said, sitting at the dining table with a hot cup of chamomile tea. "He wasn't just looking at bank statements. He was reading through old property tax receipts."
Right on cue, the lights inside the cottage flickered once, twice, and then went completely dark.
The hum of the refrigerator died. The security monitor on the counter turned black.
Detective Vance immediately drew his sidearm, stepping between the kitchen window and the doorway. "Stay down! Both of you, into the interior hallway now!"
Outside, the distant bark of a police dog was abruptly cut short, followed by the muffled thud of a suppressed sidearm discharge near the front gate.
"They took out the gate patrol," Vance muttered, pulling his radio to his lapel. "Dispatcher, this is Vance, officer needs assistance at 882 Lakeview Drive, heavy intruder activity, shots fired—"
Static roared through the radio. A portable signal jammer was active nearby.
The heavy wooden back door shuddered under a massive physical blow. The iron latch strained against the frame.
"Clara, get into the storm cellar under the pantry," I commanded, standing up calmly despite the surge of adrenaline in my veins. "Take Lily and lock the floor hatch from the inside."
"Gran, no! I'm not leaving you!" Clara cried out, holding Lily tight against her chest.
"Listen to your grandmother!" Vance snapped, taking cover behind the kitchen island as a second strike fractured the wooden paneling of the back door. "Go!"
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I pushed Clara into the pantry, pulled open the heavy oak trapdoor built into the floorboards, and helped her descend into the concrete cellar below. "Keep her quiet, child. No matter what you hear up here."
I slammed the hatch shut, kicked the heavy woven braided rug back over the wood, and dragged a heavy cast-iron baker's rack over the top of it just as the back door splinters flew inward.
