Chapter 3 - The Sanctuary in the Storm
The door creaked softly as Gabriel stepped into the apartment. Ellie turned her head, her brown eyes widening as she recognized the tall man in the dark coat standing in her doorway.
She didn't scream. She didn't run. She simply held her doll closer to her chest.
"Mr. Rourke?" she asked, her tiny voice trembling slightly from the cold. "Are you here to see Mommy? She isn't home yet."
Gabriel knelt down on the cold linoleum floor. A man who never bowed to anyone, who commanded hundreds of armed men, brought himself down to eye level with a four-year-old girl.
"Where is your mommy, Ellie?" Gabriel asked, keeping his voice as gentle as he possibly could.
"She went to work her second job at the laundry place," Ellie said, pointing toward the window. "She said she would be back before bedtime, but the clock made a lot of noises and she isn't here. My tummy was making noises too, so I ate my half."
Gabriel looked around the room. There was no heater. The radiator in the corner was cold and rusted. A single blanket was spread across a thin mattress on the floor.
"Vance," Gabriel called out softly without taking his eyes off Ellie.
Vance stepped into the room, his face hardening as he took in the poverty and the freezing temperature. "Boss?"
"Find Grace Ward," Gabriel commanded, his voice returning to its dangerous, low steel. "Check every hospital, every precinct, every laundry facility within five miles. Use every man we have in the district. Now."
"Right away, sir," Vance said, turning on his heel and pulling out his phone as he rushed down the stairs.
Gabriel turned back to Ellie. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small, foil-wrapped chocolate square he had taken from his desk earlier that afternoon. He held it out to her.
Ellie looked at the candy, then at Gabriel. "Is it for me?"
"Yes," Gabriel said. "All of it."
"Can I save half for Mommy?"
Gabriel felt another sharp pang in his chest. "No, sweet girl. You eat all of it. I promise you, your mommy will have more food than she can ever eat tonight."
Ellie took the chocolate with small, reverent hands, unwrapping it carefully and taking a bite. A tiny smile broke across her pale face. "It's sweet."
"Come," Gabriel said, standing up and reaching out his hand. "We are going to my house. It's warm there."
"What about Daddy's picture?" she asked, looking back at the counter.
Gabriel walked over, picked up the faded photograph of Thomas Ward, the cracked glass of milk, and the wax paper containing the slice of bread. He placed the picture gently inside his pocket.
"We take him with us," Gabriel said.
He wrapped Ellie in his heavy cashmere coat, lifting her easily into his arms. She was so light—far too light for a child her age. She laid her head against his shoulder, her small breath warm against his neck, exhausted from hours of waiting in the dark.
By the time they reached the car, Ellie was fast asleep.
Two hours later, Vance called Gabriel’s cell phone as Gabriel sat in the warm nursery at Lake Forest, watching Ellie sleep beneath three thick wool blankets.
"We found her, boss," Vance reported, his voice grim. "She was hit by a delivery van three blocks from her apartment while walking home from her shift. The driver fled the scene."
Gabriel’s grip on the phone tightened. "Is she alive?"
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"Barely. She’s at St. Jude's Memorial. Internal bleeding, broken ribs, severe concussion. She's in surgery now."
Gabriel looked at the sleeping child in the bed. "Transfer her to the private wing. Bring in the best surgeons in Illinois. Pay whatever it costs. If Grace Ward dies, Vance... the men responsible for that hit-and-run won't live to see the end of the week."
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