What Happened at East Houston Street

Chapter 48

Lauren squinted at the slumped figure in the antique kitchen. Her feet, pounding from the heavy landing from the window, weren't bothering her as much now. She was more concerned with the voice she had just heard say her name.

She planted her palms against the tile floor and used all of her might to slide her body towards the figure.
As she got closer and her eyes started adjusting to the dark, her heart rate began to quicken. She could see long hair. With more fervor now, she pulled herself faster across the ground. She saw the person's profile and could make out a thin long nose. Tears pooled in her eyes as she moved to her knees, shimmying herself over to reach the girl. When she was within arm's length, she held out her hand and touched her hair, cupping her palm against the girl's head. Even in the dark and her vision blurred by tears, she instantly knew that it was Stephanie.

"Baby?" she breathed. "Baby!"
The girl slumped into Lauren's arms, breaking into sobs.

She patted Stephanie's hair and cried, "You're okay, my love. You're okay." She rocked her, tightening her hold around the girl. They both cried, lying injured on the cold tile floor.

Sarah wrung her hands as she walked back and forth in the musty hallway outside the kitchen. When she didn't get a response from Lauren, she started to panic. Thinking desperately of ways to get into the room, she ran back outside to the front of the house. Done with sneaking around at this point, she stomped up the stone steps and tried the doorknob. When it easily pushed open, she paused and slapped her palm against her forehead.

The foyer was dark. The only light in the house came from the second floor, where she could hear muffled voices. She knew that Lauren wasn't up there, having just pushed her into the basement window mere minutes ago. Her eyes darted between the stairs and a door that she figured would lead to the basement.

Tip is probably up there, she thought while looking at the staircase.

And Lauren is down there, she concluded, looking back at the basement door.

It took her a moment to decide which way to go. Torn between the two people that had recently become so important to her, she started to cry.

Lauren might be hurt from the fall. She needs me more, she decided.
She raced to the basement door and flung it open, only to find a coat closet. She ran to every other door she could find, opening each one to reveal a storage closet, a small sitting room, and an office. When she got to the last door at the end of the hallway, it was locked. With the fury of a wild animal, she ran back down the hallway to the coat closet. She darted her eyes around, looking for a heavy object. When her eyes fell upon a metal baseball bat, she grabbed it and raced back to the locked door. Adrenaline rushing through her veins, she raised the bat above her head and slammed it down onto the old crystal knob, detaching it from the door with one hit. No time to waste, she gripped the door open and shot down the windy narrow stairway.

"What's he talking about, Grandad?" Tip asked, bewildered by Mason's insult.

"If Mason goes down, we all go down, Tip. Especially your father." Harry's voice was soft, as he looked at the floor. He breathed in deeply and let out a long, defeated sigh. He began to pace.

"You can't say anything about this, Tip," he began. "It would ruin the Wellington name and probably land us in jail. You don't want that, do you?" He stopped and looked down at Tip with a raised eyebrow.

Tip wrinkled his forehead. "What's my dad have to do with any of this?" There was a tone of offense in his question.

Harry looked at Mason, who gave him a small nod. He looked back at his grandson, studying his face. He always thought he looked more like the Wellington side of the family rather than the Lynches. He paused for a moment before he was to shatter the image Tip had of his father. Sighing, he continued.