Chapter 2: The Alley behind the Plaza
Eleanor Vance did not look back at the three hundred guests staring in stunned disbelief. She did not call for an umbrella, nor did she care that her couture champagne gown was dragging through dirty puddles.
Lifting the eight-year-old into her arms with an adrenaline-fueled strength she had not possessed in thirty years, Eleanor pushed through the heavy brass emergency exit into the freezing November downpour.
The alley behind the hotel was dark, narrow, and filled with steam rising from basement vents. Rain lashed against the brick walls like needles.
""Down there!"" Maya cried, pointing toward a row of commercial dumpsters fifty yards away.
Through the sheets of driving rain, Eleanor saw two men in heavy leather jackets standing over a slumped figure on the asphalt. One of the men was gripping an iron tire iron, shouting curses as he kicked a cardboard box.
""Get away from her!"" Eleanor’s voice was not a polite society plea; it was a furious, primal roar that echoed down the brick canyon.
The two men spun around, startled.
Emerging from the darkness behind Eleanor were four of the Plaza’s private armed executive security officers, their flashlights cutting blinding beams through the rain.
""Drop the weapon! Police are on scene!"" the lead security officer bellowed, drawing his sidearm.
The two thugs looked at the armed security team, looked at the matriarch in diamonds standing in the rain, spat on the wet ground, and bolted toward the avenue, disappearing into the dark city streets.
Eleanor dropped to her knees on the filthy asphalt beside the dumpster.
Lying in a pool of icy water was Sarah.
She was thirty-six, but her body was emaciated, her skin deathly pale with a purplish tint, her dark hair matted with blood from a laceration above her eyebrow. She was wearing a threadbare denim jacket and worn boots, shivering with the violent, irregular tremors of hypothermia and septic shock.
""Sarah... Sarah, look at me,"" Eleanor wept, gathering her daughter’s head into her lap, heedless of the blood staining her silk pearls. ""It’s Mama. Mama is here.""
Sarah’s eyelids fluttered open weakly. Her hazel eyes, clouded with fever, looked up into the face she had not seen in eight years.
""Mama...?"" Sarah’s voice was a barely audible rasp. ""Maya... did you find her...?""
""She’s here, my darling. She saved you,"" Eleanor sobbed, pulling off her beaded shawl and wrapping it around Sarah’s freezing shoulders. ""I’m sorry, Sarah. I’m so sorry for everything. Forgive me. Please... hold on.""
""Medical team en route, Mrs. Vance!"" the security lead shouted, throwing a heavy emergency blanket over them both.
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As the wail of sirens cut through the Manhattan rain, Eleanor held both her daughter and her granddaughter in the dark alley, swearing an unyielding oath to heaven that she would tear down every fortress of pride to keep them alive.
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