Chapter 5 - ROOM 17
We left within fifteen minutes.
Ethan insisted on taking three vehicles.
Brian drove the first.
Derek stayed in the second.
I sat beside Ethan in the third.
Neither of us spoke.
The blue ribbon lay on the console between us.
I couldn't stop looking at it.
“My mother wore this.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“I've seen it before.”
“When?”
“The last time she met my father.”
I turned toward him.
“You were there?”
“I was seventeen.”
“You remember her?”
“Yes.”
“What was she like?”
Ethan looked through the windshield.
“Brave.”
That single word hurt.
“She was terrified,” he continued.
“But she never acted afraid.”
I looked down.
“That sounds like her.”
The Bluebird Hotel stood at the edge of an old commercial district.
The sign was gone.
The windows were boarded.
But the building remained.
We entered through a side door.
Room 17 was on the second floor.
The door was unlocked.
Inside was an old hotel room.
Dust.
A broken lamp.
A faded carpet.
And a small wooden chair near the window.
I stepped inside.
Something about the room felt familiar.
Then I saw the wall.
There was a tiny mark carved into the wood.
A bird.
My mother used to draw that bird on my school notebooks.
I touched it.
Ethan stood behind me.
“Your mother left it.”
I nodded.
“She used to call it the bluebird.”
I searched the room.
Nothing.
Then I remembered the locket.
The numbers.
Eight.
Fourteen.
Three.
I looked at the room number.
17.
Not useful.
I looked at the old chair.
There were fourteen scratches on one leg.
I counted.
Eight on the window frame.
Three beneath the bed.
I froze.
I moved the bed.
A metal box was hidden beneath it.
The key from the locket opened it.
Inside was a cassette recorder.
A photograph.
And a rosary.
I picked up the photograph.
My mother stood with a man.
Evan Brooks.
On the back:
IF JANE EVER FINDS THIS, TELL HER I TRIED.
My throat tightened.
The recorder still worked.
I pressed play.
My mother's voice filled the room.
“Jane, if you're hearing this, you're older now.”
I closed my eyes.
“I hope that means you survived the life I was afraid you would inherit.”
Ethan stood completely still.
My mother's voice continued.
“Your father isn't the man you think he is.”
I looked at Ethan.
“But neither is Ethan's father.”
The recording continued.
“They both made terrible choices.”
My mother explained that the two men had once worked together.
They had built a powerful shipping operation.
Then money changed everything.
My father wanted out.
Ethan's father wanted control.
My mother discovered that both men were being manipulated by a third party.
A man she called The Broker.
Someone who never appeared publicly.
Someone who used businessmen, politicians, police officers, and criminals to move information.
“Your father tried to expose him.”
My mother's voice trembled.
“That's why he was killed.”
I stopped breathing.
Then she said something that changed everything.
“Ethan is not your enemy.”
I looked at him.
“He was supposed to protect you.”
The room went silent.
Ethan closed his eyes.
My mother continued.
“He doesn't know everything.”
“But he knows enough to understand what your marriage means.”
The recording crackled.
“If your father insists on sending you to Ethan, it isn't because he wants your shipping routes.”
I looked at Ethan.
“It's because he knows The Broker has returned.”
The recording ended.
I stared at the recorder.
“You knew.”
Ethan nodded.
“Not everything.”
“What did you know?”
“That your father was afraid.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because your father made me promise.”
“Before our wedding?”
“Yes.”
“And you still let me believe you didn't want me.”
“I thought you would be safer if you hated me.”
I shook my head.
“You don't get to decide what I feel.”
“I know.”
Derek entered the room.
“We need to leave.”
Brian followed.
“Someone's coming.”
We turned toward the hallway.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Ethan pulled me behind him.
The door opened.
An older woman stood there.
She held a small leather suitcase.
“I'm Eleanor Brooks.”
I stared.
“Evan Brooks?”
“My husband.”
Derek stepped forward.
“Where is he?”
Eleanor's eyes filled with tears.
“He's dead.”
I felt the room change.
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
Ethan's face hardened.
“How?”
“Heart attack.”
Derek shook his head.
“No.”
Eleanor looked at him.
“You don't believe me?”
“No.”
She opened the suitcase.
Inside were files.
Photographs.
And a small gold watch.
She handed it to me.
“Evan wanted you to have this.”
I looked at the watch.
There was an engraving.
J.M. — NEVER STOP LOOKING.
My initials.
I looked at Eleanor.
“Why me?”
“Because Evan believed your mother trusted you more than anyone.”
“I was twelve.”
“He knew.”
She pulled out one final photograph.
It showed my mother.
Evan.
My father.
And a fourth person.
A young man.
I stared.
I knew him.
I had seen him every week.
At my wedding.
At Ethan's meetings.
At the house.
I looked at Ethan.
“Derek.”
Derek went pale.
The young man in the photograph was Derek's father.
Ethan's uncle.
The man who had died fifteen years ago.
Eleanor whispered,
“He was The Broker.”
Silence.
Then she added,
“But he didn't work alone.”
She looked directly at Ethan.
“Someone in this room helped him.”
Ethan's eyes moved toward Derek.
Derek shook his head.
“I didn't.”
Eleanor slowly closed the suitcase.
“Not Derek.”
Her eyes moved to Brian.
“Someone much closer.”
May you like
Brian froze.
And Ethan turned toward his oldest friend.
