Chapter 6 - THE MAN WHO NEVER LEFT
We reached the storage facility before sunset.
Unit 17 was old.
Dusty.
Forgotten.
My father had rented it under my mother's maiden name.
I had never known.
Dominic stood beside me.
“You don't have to open it.”
“Yes, I do.”
The key turned.
The door rolled upward.
Inside were boxes.
Furniture.
Old clothes.
Photographs.
And one large wooden trunk.
I recognized it immediately.
My father's.
I opened it.
Inside was my mother's blue scarf.
Her diary.
And a small brass bracelet.
The same bracelet Sofia wore in the photograph.
I stared.
“How did my mother have this?”
Dominic looked at it.
“Sofia gave it to her.”
Marcus nodded.
“They were close.”
I opened the diary.
Most pages were ordinary.
Shopping.
Bills.
Notes about me.
Then, near the end, the handwriting changed.
Richard knows.
Next page.
Dominic's father is trying to help.
Next.
Someone inside security is selling information.
Then a final entry.
I know who.
The name had been torn out.
Dominic looked at me.
“Who tore it?”
“My father?”
“Maybe.”
We searched the trunk.
Under the false bottom was a photograph.
A man stood beside a black car.
He was wearing a gold watch.
But his face was visible.
I knew him.
So did Dominic.
Marcus whispered—
“Frank Deller.”
Dominic stared.
“Head of my father's security.”
Marcus looked sick.
“He died six years ago.”
“How?”
“Cancer.”
Dominic studied the photograph.
“He was wearing the watch.”
I shook my head.
“Then he wasn't just security.”
Dominic looked at the diary.
“He was the leak.”
The pieces started fitting.
Frank had access to schedules.
Security reports.
Vehicle records.
Family movements.
He could have arranged the car sabotage.
He could have altered the accident report.
He could have paid people.
But there was still one question.
“Why kill Sofia?”
Marcus answered.
“She discovered him.”
I looked at the photograph.
“And my mother?”
“She discovered him too.”
Dominic's face hardened.
“Then why was Richard blamed?”
Marcus pointed to the watch.
“Because Frank wanted everyone looking at the wrong man.”
I found another object inside the trunk.
A small child's drawing.
It showed me standing beside my mother.
Behind us was a man with a watch.
On the back was my handwriting.
I was probably eight.
Three words.
Mommy said run.
I couldn't breathe.
Dominic saw my face.
“What happened?”
“I remember something.”
He waited.
“A man came to our house.”
“How old were you?”
“Eight.”
“What did he look like?”
I closed my eyes.
“Black coat.”
“Anything else?”
“A watch.”
Dominic looked at Marcus.
Marcus whispered—
“Frank.”
But I shook my head.
“No.”
They both looked at me.
“It wasn't Frank.”
“Who?”
I opened my eyes.
“The man was younger.”
Dominic went still.
“Richard?”
“No.”
I pointed at the photograph.
“The man in the photograph.”
Marcus stared.
“That isn't Frank.”
Dominic took the photograph.
He looked closely.
The face wasn't Frank.
It was someone else.
Someone I didn't recognize.
Then Dominic did.
His face drained of color.
“That's my father.”
Marcus shook his head.
“No.”
Dominic turned the photograph over.
There was a date.
The day after Mara's supposed accident.
His father had been photographed wearing the same watch.
But Dominic's father was supposed to have been out of state.
I looked at Dominic.
“Your father survived?”
Dominic nodded slowly.
“He died years later.”
“Then why did everyone say he wasn't there?”
Marcus stared at the photograph.
“Because someone wanted the timeline changed.”
Dominic looked at the diary.
A page had been folded.
He opened it.
There was one final sentence.
Frank didn't betray us alone.
Underneath:
He was following orders from someone who still lives.
Dominic's eyes lifted.
“Who?”
I turned the page.
There was no name.
Only an address.
A church.
And beneath it—
Ask the priest about the red ledger.
Marcus looked at Dominic.
“The church?”
Dominic nodded.
But before we left, I noticed something else.
The blue scarf had a small embroidered symbol.
A bird.
Dominic touched it.
“My sister used to draw that.”
“What does it mean?”
He looked at me.
“It meant home.”
I smiled sadly.
Then Marcus's phone rang.
He listened.
His face changed.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“The priest at that church died this morning.”
Silence.
Marcus looked down.
“But before he died, he left something for Elena.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
Marcus handed me a small envelope.
Inside was a photograph of my mother.
On the back:
THE MAN WHO ORDERED IT IS NOT WHO YOU THINK.
And beneath that—
May you like
a name.
DOMINIC VALE.
