Chapter 7: The Body in Storage Unit 317
The photograph of Daniel Cole lying in a pool of blood stayed on my phone as Detective Mercer drove me toward Central Station.
I stared at it until the image blurred.
Daniel had promised to help me find my father. He had promised to get my mother away from Richard Whitmore. And now, according to the messages on my screen, he was dead.
The blue ledger was gone.
And I was sitting in the back of a police car with a detective who had helped bury my father's past.
"Put the phone away," Mercer ordered.
I lifted my eyes.
"Did you kill Daniel Cole?""
His hands tightened around the steering wheel.
"Watch your mouth.""
"He's lying on the floor of my father's storage unit. Someone sent me a photograph. The ledger is missing. You tell me what I'm supposed to think.""
Mercer glanced at me in the rearview mirror.
"You're thinking like a grieving son.""
"My father has been missing for eleven years. My mother has just been arrested. My bride's supposedly dead mother called her from somewhere Richard doesn't want anyone to find. And now a man who knew the truth is bleeding on a concrete floor.""
I leaned forward.
"So forgive me if I don't feel particularly charitable toward the police.""
Mercer pulled the car to the curb.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then he turned around in his seat.
"You have no idea how dangerous your father was.""
"Then tell me.""
"He was involved with people who didn't tolerate betrayal.""
"Richard?""
Mercer said nothing.
I smiled without humor.
"That's what I thought.""
He opened the driver's door and stepped outside. A moment later, my door opened too.
"Get out.""
I climbed onto the pavement.
We were standing beside a row of shuttered businesses. A cold wind swept across the street, carrying the smell of rain and diesel fumes.
Mercer held out his hand.
"Your phone.""
"No.""
"You're being questioned in a criminal investigation.""
"And you're the detective whose name appears in a photograph taken in a hospital room eleven years ago. The same room where my father was supposedly dying.""
His expression changed.
I had hit something.
"You should have left the past alone," he said.
"People keep telling me that. It makes me wonder what they're so afraid of.""
He stepped closer.
"Your father made a deal. He signed a confession, disappeared, and left other people to deal with the consequences. If you keep digging, you'll learn that some truths don't set people free.""
"Maybe. But lies certainly keep them in chains.""
Mercer stared at me for several seconds.
Then he reached into his coat and pulled out my phone.
I hadn't even seen him take it.
He slipped it into his pocket.
"You're going to regret this," he said.
Before I could respond, a black SUV turned the corner and stopped behind the police car.
Two men stepped out.
One wore a gray coat. The other had a scar running along his jaw.
I'd seen that scar before.
In the photograph my mother had shown me in the sitting room.
The photograph of my father, Richard, and Daniel Cole standing outside their old office.
The third man.
Mercer nodded to him.
"He's all yours.""
My stomach tightened.
"What does that mean?""
Mercer walked toward the SUV.
The man with the scar approached me.
"Jalen Hayes?""
"Who are you?""
"Someone who can help you understand what your father did.""
I took a step backward.
"Funny. That's what everyone says before they threaten me.""
He smiled.
"My name is Victor Shaw. Your father and I knew each other a long time ago.""
"Then you can tell me where he is.""
Victor's smile disappeared.
"Get in the vehicle.""
"No.""
He glanced at Mercer.
"He's stubborn.""
"He's his father's son," Mercer replied.
Victor grabbed my arm.
I twisted free, but the second man caught my other shoulder.
"Let go!""
Victor leaned close enough for me to smell the coffee on his breath.
"You have something Richard wants. The letter. Give it to us, and you might get to see your mother again.""
My heart pounded.
"Where is she?""
"Safe. For now.""
I drove my elbow backward, catching the second man in the ribs. His grip loosened.
I ran.
I made it three steps before Victor tackled me against the side of the police car.
Pain exploded through my shoulder.
He pinned my wrist behind my back.
"Don't make this harder than it needs to be.""
I struggled until something hard pressed against my ribs.
A gun.
Then a voice rang out from across the street.
"Take your hands off him!""
Victor looked up.
A delivery van had stopped beside the curb. The driver was a broad-shouldered man in a dark jacket, and he was holding a phone in one hand.
My uncle Marcus.
"Everything you're doing is being recorded," he shouted.
"The police have already been notified.""
Victor released me.
The two men exchanged a quick glance before retreating toward the SUV.
Mercer didn't try to stop them.
He simply watched them drive away.
Then he looked at Marcus.
"You've just interfered with an active investigation.""
Marcus walked toward me.
"And you've just handed my nephew to two men with guns.""
Mercer straightened his coat.
"Your nephew is a person of interest.""
"Then arrest him properly.""
The detective's jaw tightened.
For a moment, I thought he might reach for his weapon.
Instead, he got back into the police car.
As he drove away, he lowered the window.
"Tell Dorothy I said hello.""
Then he disappeared around the corner.
Marcus helped me stand upright.
"Are you hurt?""
"My shoulder.""
"Can you move it?""
I rotated my arm carefully. Pain shot through the joint, but nothing seemed broken.
"I'll survive.""
Marcus looked toward the empty street.
"Not if we keep playing by their rules.""
He pulled out his phone.
"I got your message about Daniel. I also found something else.""
"What?""
"Your mother.""
My heart lurched.
"Where is she?""
"With someone she trusts. She's safe.""
"Who?""
Marcus hesitated.
"Your bride.""
I stared at him.
"Brianna?""
"She called me after you were taken. Said she knew a place where Richard wouldn't look.""
I didn't know what to say.
Brianna had betrayed me. She had hidden the truth about my father, investigated my family, and struck my mother in front of two hundred people.
But she had also defied Richard in the hotel corridor.
And now she was apparently protecting the woman she had assaulted.
"Take me to them," I said.
"Not yet.""
"Marcus—"
"We need to find out what happened to Daniel first.""
He opened the van's side door and pulled out a folded newspaper.
Inside was a photograph of the storage facility.
The same metal door from the message.
But this picture had been taken from the opposite side of the building.
A dark sedan was parked near the entrance.
I recognized the license plate.
Richard Whitmore's car.
Marcus pointed to a figure standing beside it.
"Look at the time stamp.""
The photograph had been taken thirty minutes before I received the message about Daniel's death.
"Richard was there," I whispered.
"Yes.""
"But how did he get into the unit?""
Marcus tapped the newspaper.
"Your mother told Brianna that the key had been with her for years. Richard must have found another way in.""
I studied the photograph.
A second figure stood near the sedan.
A woman wearing a long coat.
Her face was turned away from the camera.
But something about her posture seemed familiar.
"Who's that?""
Marcus leaned closer.
"I don't know.""
I looked at the photograph again.
The woman had one hand pressed against her abdomen. Her other hand held a small black purse.
Then I noticed the ring on her finger.
A silver ring with a tiny blue stone.
I'd seen it in the hospital photograph.
The woman standing beside my father.
Brianna's mother.
Evelyn Whitmore.
I felt the world stop.
"Marcus, that's her.""
He stared at the image.
"You're sure?""
"Look at the ring.""
He studied it, then swore under his breath.
"If Evelyn was at the storage unit, she may know what happened to Daniel.""
"And she may know where my father is.""
I reached for the photograph.
A folded slip of paper fell from inside the newspaper.
Marcus picked it up.
Three words were written across it in my mother's handwriting.
The church basement.
Beneath them was an address.
I recognized it immediately.
The old St. Andrew's Church, where my father and mother had married thirty-nine years earlier.
I looked at Marcus.
"Take me there.""
He nodded.
But as we climbed into the van, my phone buzzed again.
Marcus had returned it to me.
An unfamiliar number.
One message.
Jalen, don't come to the church.
A second message followed.
Daniel is alive.
My breath caught.
Then the third message appeared.
But your father isn't the man you think he is.
I stared at the screen.
For eleven years, I'd believed my father had been an honest man destroyed by a powerful criminal.
Now someone was telling me that the man I had spent my life mourning had secrets of his own.
And whoever sent that message knew exactly where I was going.
The church stood at the end of a narrow street lined with bare trees and brick row houses.
Its stained-glass windows glowed faintly beneath the gray afternoon sky. The stone steps were damp, and the heavy wooden doors stood slightly open.
Marcus parked behind the building.
"Stay close," he said.
We entered through a side door and followed a narrow corridor toward the basement.
The air smelled of dust, old hymnals, and damp stone.
At the bottom of the stairs, a light flickered.
My mother sat at a wooden table, holding a paper cup of tea.
Brianna stood beside her.
And across from them, his face pale and his shirt stained with blood, sat Daniel Cole.
Alive.
I rushed toward him.
"You're alive!""
Daniel managed a tired smile.
"Disappointed?""
I grabbed his shoulders carefully.
"Don't ever do that to me again.""
He winced.
"Next time, I'll try to schedule my near-death experience around your calendar.""
I almost laughed.
Then I noticed the bandage wrapped around his side.
"What happened?""
"Richard's men arrived before I did. I found the storage unit already broken into. I managed to get out, but not before one of them caught me.""
"Where's the ledger?""
Daniel's expression darkened.
"Gone.""
My mother rose and embraced me.
I held her tightly, breathing in the familiar scent of her perfume.
For the first time since the wedding, I felt like I could breathe.
Then I looked at Brianna.
She stood several feet away, her arms folded around herself.
Her wedding gown was gone. She wore jeans and a plain gray sweater, and her hair hung loose around her shoulders.
She looked smaller without the diamonds, the veil, and the carefully constructed confidence.
"I came because your mother needed help," she said.
I nodded.
"Thank you.""
Her eyes widened slightly, as though she hadn't expected me to say it.
I wasn't ready to forgive her.
But I wasn't going to punish her for doing the right thing.
Not while there was still so much we didn't know.
Daniel pushed a manila folder across the table.
"Before we talk about your father, there's something you all need to understand.""
I opened the folder.
Inside were bank statements, medical records, and a photograph of a hospital corridor.
The date was November 14, 2015.
The same night my father supposedly died.
Daniel pointed to a signature at the bottom of one document.
"Your father did sign a confession, Jalen.""
My chest tightened.
"But it wasn't a confession to stealing money.""
He turned the page.
"It was a statement admitting that he had helped Richard move funds through several companies. Your father believed the money was being used to protect investors from a criminal investigation.""
"Was he wrong?""
Daniel nodded.
"He discovered too late that Richard was stealing from those same investors. When James tried to report him, Richard threatened your mother.""
My mother covered her mouth.
Daniel continued.
"Your father made a deal with the authorities. He agreed to testify against Richard in exchange for protection for his family.""
I stared at the document.
"Then why did he disappear?""
"Because someone inside the police department sold the information to Richard.""
I looked at the hospital photograph.
Detective Mercer.
The man who had signed my father's death report.
"He knew.""
"Yes.""
"Did Richard kill my father?""
Daniel looked down.
"I don't know.""
The uncertainty hurt more than a lie would have.
"Then how can you say he's alive?""
Daniel reached into his jacket and removed a small photograph.
It showed an older man sitting beside a window in a room filled with medical equipment.
His hair was almost completely white. His face was thinner than I remembered, and one side of his mouth seemed to droop slightly.
But his eyes were unmistakable.
My father.
Beneath the photograph was a date.
Three weeks earlier.
My knees weakened.
"Where is he?""
Daniel looked at me.
"That's what we're going to find out.""
He turned the photograph over.
On the back, someone had written an address and a single sentence.
Ask the woman who raised Brianna why James was never allowed to come home.
Brianna stared at the handwriting.
Then she whispered, "That's my mother's address.""
And from somewhere behind us, a voice spoke.
"No, sweetheart.""
We all turned.
A woman stood at the top of the basement stairs.
Silver streaks ran through her dark hair. She leaned heavily against the railing, and a scar crossed the left side of her forehead.
But the blue ring on her finger was unmistakable.
Evelyn Whitmore.
She looked at Brianna first.
Then at my mother.
Finally, she looked at me.
"Your father is alive, Jalen.""
May you like
She took one trembling step down the stairs.
"But if you want to bring him home, you'll have to learn why he chose to stay away.""
