Chapter 9: The Man on the Camera
The photograph showed Arthur standing outside the storage facility.
Same dark coat.
Same posture.
Same face.
The timestamp was eleven minutes old.
Arthur stared at the screen.
“That isn't me.””
I said nothing.
“Claire, look at me.””
“I am.””
“I was in this warehouse.””
“You have been here all night?””
“Yes.””
Daniel stepped closer and studied the image.
“Can I see it?””
I handed him my phone.
He examined the photograph for several seconds.
Then he said something that made the room colder.
“It isn't him.””
Arthur exhaled.
“Thank God.””
“No,” Daniel said.
“That's worse.””
I frowned.
“What do you mean?””
Daniel zoomed into the image.
“The jawline is wrong.””
Arthur looked offended despite everything.
“What?””
“Your face is slightly narrower.””
Daniel enlarged the figure's hands.
“The fingers are longer.””
I looked again.
He was right.
The clothes were identical, but the person in the photograph looked like Arthur from a distance and like a stranger up close.
“A disguise,” I whispered.
Daniel nodded.
“An extremely good one.””
Arthur stared at the photo.
“Who would go to that much trouble?””
“Someone who wants the camera to say you were there,” Daniel answered.
I felt a chill.
“To frame him.””
“Or to make me doubt him.””
Arthur looked at me.
“Would you?””
I met his eyes.
“I'm trying not to.””
His expression softened.
“That matters.””
“It shouldn't.””
“It does to me.””
I turned away.
“Call Maya.””
Arthur reached for his phone.
I stopped him.
“No.””
He looked confused.
“Why?””
“Because we don't know who has access to your phone.””
He lowered it.
Daniel nodded.
“She may be compromised too.””
I picked up my own phone.
“Maya?””
“I've been waiting.””
“You said someone used Arthur's ID.””
“Yes.””
“Can you pull the storage facility camera footage?””
“I already did.””
“Show me.””
A file appeared.
I opened it.
The footage showed the facility entrance.
A black sedan arrived.
A man stepped out.
Arthur's face.
Arthur's clothes.
Arthur's walk.
He entered the building carrying nothing.
Ten minutes later, he left carrying a thin leather case.
I paused the video.
“Can you enhance his face?””
“I tried.””
“What did you find?””
Maya was quiet.
“His face isn't natural.””
Arthur stepped closer.
“What does that mean?””
“The image has been digitally altered.””
Daniel looked at me.
“They wanted a perfect copy.””
I watched the screen.
“Can you trace the sedan?””
“Already did.””
“Where did it go?””
“Downtown.””
“Where?””
Maya hesitated.
“Blackridge Capital.””
My heart tightened.
“Kane's office.””
“Yes.””
I closed the video.
“Can you get inside?””
Maya laughed without humor.
“Not legally.””
“I didn't ask legally.””
There was a pause.
Then she said, “Give me twenty minutes.””
The call ended.
Arthur looked at me.
“You trust her?””
“More than I trust you.””
He nodded.
“I deserve that.””
I looked at Daniel.
“What was in the storage facility?””
“Your father's records.””
“Everything?””
“Not everything.””
“What else?””
Daniel's expression was grim.
“His death file.””
I stared at him.
“You knew there was a file?””
“Yes.””
“Why didn't you tell me?””
“Because I wanted to make sure it was safe.””
“Safe from whom?””
“Kane.””
“And now?””
Daniel looked at the photograph.
“Now I think Kane knows you've found the key.””
We drove to the storage facility in silence.
This time, Arthur sat in the back with Daniel.
I drove.
The building was located in an industrial district on the edge of the city.
Rows of concrete units stretched beneath harsh fluorescent lights.
At the end of the corridor was one private steel door.
My father's initials were engraved in tiny letters.
*J.M.*
I inserted the brass key.
Nothing happened.
I tried again.
Daniel frowned.
“Turn it twice.””
I did.
A hidden lock released.
The door clicked open.
Inside was a narrow room lined with shelves.
Boxes.
Ledgers.
Old photographs.
Tax records.
Contracts.
The smell of paper and dust filled the air.
Arthur stepped inside.
“This is all yours?””
“My father's.””
He looked around.
“He kept everything.””
“He trusted records.””
Daniel gave a faint smile.
“More than people.””
I walked to the back wall.
A single black cabinet stood apart from everything else.
Its lock had been forced.
Someone had already opened it.
Arthur immediately stiffened.
“They got here first.””
Daniel crouched near the lock.
“Fresh.””
“How fresh?””
“Hours.””
I opened the cabinet.
Almost everything was gone.
Except one folder.
White.
Unmarked.
I pulled it out.
Inside was a police report.
Then medical records.
Then photographs from the night of my father's death.
I stopped breathing.
The first image showed his car against a concrete barrier.
The front end was crushed.
Rain streaked across the windshield.
The official report had listed the cause as loss of control during heavy rain.
I looked closer.
Daniel pointed at the front wheel.
“See that?””
I leaned in.
One of the brake lines appeared severed.
My chest tightened.
“That was cut.””
“Yes.””
Arthur looked sick.
“My father knew.””
Daniel nodded.
“He found out two days before the accident.””
I turned toward him.
“How?””
“He hired a private investigator.””
“Where is the report?””
“Missing.””
My hands shook as I turned another page.
There was a handwritten note.
*Kane didn't order this.*
I looked up.
“What?””
Daniel took the paper.
He read it slowly.
“Your father wrote this?””
“Yes.””
I looked at the line again.
*Kane didn't order this.*
Below it was another sentence.
*He is only being used as the name everyone fears.*
Arthur stepped closer.
“Used by whom?””
I turned the page.
There was a second note.
*The person who betrayed me sits much closer than Victor Kane.*
The room went silent.
I thought of everyone who had been near my father.
Richard.
Eleanor.
Margaret.
People from Northbridge.
People I had trusted.
Then I remembered the forged document.
The fake signature.
The hidden trust.
The person who knew the details.
Someone had spent years preparing for this.
My phone rang.
Maya.
I answered.
“Tell me.””
“I got into Blackridge's public corporate database.””
“What did you find?””
“Kane doesn't own Blackridge.””
I froze.
“What?””
“Officially, the company belongs to a blind holding structure.””
“Whose?””
“That is what I'm trying to identify.””
Arthur stepped closer.
“Can we trace it?””
“Yes.””
Maya's voice became tense.
“But there's a name buried in the original filing.””
“What name?””
“I think you should see it yourself.””
“Send it.””
A document arrived.
I opened it.
At the bottom was a trustee designation.
The beneficiary was Blackridge Capital Holdings.
The registered administrator was—
*Margaret Bell.*
My stomach dropped.
“Margaret is working for Kane.””
“That's not the strangest part,” Maya said.
“What?””
“She registered Blackridge nine years ago.””
Nine years.
One year after Northbridge was founded.
I looked at Daniel.
“Why would my father's attorney create Kane's company?””
Daniel's face tightened.
“Maybe she didn't.””
“What do you mean?””
He took the document from me.
“This registration date is correct.””
“Then what?””
“Blackridge was created before Kane publicly entered the logistics market.””
Arthur frowned.
“Meaning?””
Daniel looked at me.
“Kane may not be the founder.””
I felt a cold wave move through me.
Then I remembered my father's note.
*Kane didn't order this.*
“He's a front,” I whispered.
Daniel nodded.
“A very powerful one.””
My phone buzzed again.
A message from Maya.
*Found the beneficial owner.*
I opened it.
My eyes moved over the name.
My heart stopped.
It was not Victor Kane.
Not Richard Hale.
Not Margaret Bell.
It was someone whose name I knew better than anyone.
Someone whose signature had appeared on nearly every major Northbridge document after my father died.
My father's estate administrator.
*Jonathan Morgan.*
My father.
Dead for eight years.
I stared at the screen.
“That’s impossible.””
Daniel took the phone.
His expression changed.
“What?””
“Jonathan Morgan is listed as the beneficial owner.””
“But he's dead.””
Daniel read the filing again.
“Then someone has been using his identity.””
Arthur stepped toward me.
“Claire…”
I couldn't hear him.
Because another detail had caught my eye.
The registration contained a secondary contact.
An old telephone number.
One I recognized.
My father's private office line.
A number that had been disconnected after his death.
I dialed it anyway.
It rang.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then someone answered.
I said nothing.
A man's voice came through.
“Hello, Claire.””
I froze.
I knew that voice.
Older.
Raspier.
But unmistakable.
My knees almost gave out.
Arthur caught my shoulder.
“Who is it?””
I stared at the phone.
“My father.””
The voice laughed softly.
“No.””
A pause.
“But I know exactly where he is.””
My breath caught.
“Where?””
The man's voice became almost gentle.
“You've been looking in the wrong place.””
“Who are you?””
“Ask Margaret.””
“Margaret is working with Kane.””
“No.””
The stranger laughed.
“She has been trying to stop him.””
I looked at Daniel.
He had gone pale.
The caller continued.
“Victor Kane is dangerous, Claire.””
“You said that already.””
“He's also expendable.””
“Who are you?””
Silence.
Then:
“The man your father trusted when he had no one else.””
My heart hammered.
“Give me your name.””
The stranger breathed out slowly.
“Daniel Reeves.””
I looked up.
Daniel was standing directly in front of me.
My phone was still pressed to my ear.
I looked from him to the phone.
Arthur saw my expression.
“What happened?””
I couldn't speak.
The man on the line continued.
“Don't trust the man standing beside you.””
The call ended.
I slowly lowered my phone.
Daniel stared at me.
“What did he say?””
I looked at him.
“You tell me.””
His face changed.
“Claire…”
“You just heard him.””
“No.””
“Then explain why someone using your name just called me.””
Daniel stepped backward.
Arthur immediately moved between us.
“Stay back.””
Daniel raised his hands.
“I didn't make that call.””
“How do we know?”” Arthur asked.
Daniel looked directly at me.
“Because I don't have a twin.””
I stared at him.
“What does that mean?””
Daniel's expression hardened.
“It means someone has been pretending to be me too.””
Before I could answer, every light in the storage facility went out.
Darkness swallowed the room.
Then my phone vibrated.
One final message appeared.
*Now you know why your father never told you who the real enemy was.*
Below it was a photograph.
A hospital room.
An elderly man lay unconscious in the bed.
Beside him stood a nurse.
And above the bed was a name.
*Jonathan Morgan.*
May you like
My father.
Alive.
