Chapter 3 - Someone Had Been Watching
I disconnected the camera without touching the note.
Hale stood behind me.
“Don’t destroy it.”
“I’m not.”
“Police?”
“Which police?”
He understood immediately.
Briar County law enforcement had changed since Robert Vance was sheriff, but men like Vance rarely surrendered every relationship when they surrendered a badge.
I used a clean handkerchief from my bag to lift the camera.
Small.
Wireless.
Commercial.
Battery-powered.
A memory card slot on the side.
No card.
It had probably been transmitting.
“To where?” Hale asked.
“That’s the problem.”
I searched the bedroom carefully.
Smoke detector.
Electrical outlets.
Lamp.
Closet.
No second device.
We checked the rest of the cabin.
I found another camera inside a hollow book facing the front door.
One under the kitchen cabinet.
Whoever installed them wanted to know when I arrived and what I found.
“Someone expected you,” Hale said.
“No.”
I looked at the red toolbox.
“They expected Dad’s heir.”
Maybe there was a difference.
We left nothing visible.
I put the recorder, envelope, photograph, and Dad’s phone in my duffel.
Then I placed both cameras on the table.
Hale watched me.
“What are you doing?”
“Giving whoever is watching something boring to watch.”
“You think they’re still connected?”
“Maybe.”
I turned off every light except the bedroom lamp.
From outside, it would appear that I had settled in.
Then Hale and I exited through the rear window.
Ten minutes later, we were inside his sedan with no headlights, rolling down a narrow service road behind the cabin.
“Storage facility?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“This is a terrible idea.”
“So was coming to my cabin with my dead father’s phone.”
“Fair.”
Briar County Storage sat behind an abandoned feed store.
A chain-link fence surrounded thirty single-story units.
The office was dark.
Hale parked across the road.
“Your father rented unit 217 under a company name.”
“What company?”
“Blue Finch Holdings.”
“Never heard of it.”
“Neither had I.”
The gate required a code.
The receipt showed none.
I tried 0917.
Denied.
Denied.
Then I remembered Dad’s note.
Mara must never believe what happened was her fault.
The accident happened on October 14.
The gate clicked.
Hale stared at me.
“How did you know?”
“I didn’t.”
We entered.
Unit 217 stood at the far end.
A heavy padlock secured it.
The brass key fit.
Inside sat one metal filing cabinet.
One old laptop.
And six banker’s boxes.
No furniture.
No junk.
No fishing equipment.
Dad had created an archive.
I switched on the overhead light.
The nearest box was labeled:
EVELYN COLLINS — 2009.
My mother.
My knees nearly gave way.
I opened it.
Accident photos.
Insurance reports.
Copies of bank records.
Maps.
Newspaper clippings.
On top lay a yellow legal pad covered in Dad’s handwriting.
I picked it up.
The first page contained a list of names.
Robert Vance.
Dr. Peter Kell.
Nathan Grady.
Samuel Hale.
I looked at the attorney.
His own name.
He stared back at me.
“I don’t know why I’m on that list.”
“Neither do I.”
Beside each name was a symbol.
Vance — circle.
Kell — circle.
Grady — X.
Hale — question mark.
“Who’s Nathan Grady?”
Hale swallowed.
“Your mother’s mechanic.”
“Still alive?”
“No.”
“How did he die?”
“House fire. Eleven years ago.”
“And Dr. Kell?”
“Former county medical examiner.”
“Alive?”
“As far as I know.”
I turned the page.
One sentence.
GRADY TRIED TO TELL ME. I DIDN’T LISTEN.
My chest tightened.
“What did Dad not listen to?”
“I don’t know.”
Another box was labeled PROPERTY.
Inside were deeds.
Lake maps.
Survey records.
One map had a red outline around several parcels.
The cabin sat at the center.
Vance owned land north and west.
A corporation called Cumberland Renewal owned land east.
The corporation had bought nearly everything around the lake.
Except Dad’s parcel.
I looked at Hale.
“Who owns Cumberland Renewal?”
“I don’t know.”
I opened the laptop.
Password screen.
Dad’s clue habits were becoming familiar.
I tried Mom’s birthday.
Wrong.
My birthday.
Wrong.
Skylar’s.
Wrong.
Then I typed:
BLUEFINCH.
The laptop unlocked.
A folder sat on the desktop.
MARA FIRST.
Inside were scanned documents and one video file.
I clicked it.
Dad appeared on screen.
He was sitting in this storage unit.
He looked tired.
Older than he had at Christmas.
“Mara,” he began, “if you’re watching this, then either I finally told you the truth…”
He paused.
“…or somebody made sure I couldn’t.”
Hale pulled a chair closer.
Dad continued.
“Your mother discovered something about the land around Lake Briar. It wasn’t just property fraud. People were being pressured to sell. Records were being altered. When they refused, bad things happened.”
A photograph appeared on screen.
Mom stood outside the county courthouse carrying a folder.
“She found evidence that Robert Vance was using his office to protect a private development group. She was going to report him.”
My fists tightened.
“Two days later, her brake line was cut.”
Dad looked down.
“I suspected something was wrong. But Vance was my friend. He convinced me grief was making me paranoid. I believed him.”
His voice broke.
“For years.”
He looked back at camera.
“Three weeks ago, someone mailed me the missing inspection page. That’s when I reopened everything.”
The video cut briefly.
Dad reappeared.
“There is one person who knows where the original evidence is.”
My pulse quickened.
“Her name is Lena Ward.”
The scratched-out woman from the photograph?
Dad continued.
“You will think she betrayed us. She didn’t.”
Then his eyes hardened.
“And Skylar knows her.”
I froze.
“What?”
Hale whispered the same word.
Dad leaned closer to the camera.
“If Skylar tells you she has never heard Lena’s name, she is lying.”
The file ended.
I immediately called Skylar.
Hale grabbed my wrist.
“Your father told you not to.”
“I’m done taking instructions from dead men who kept secrets.”
The call rang.
Once.
Twice.
Skylar answered.
“Mara?”
Her voice was sleepy.
Or pretending.
“Who is Lena Ward?”
Silence.
Complete silence.
Then Skylar said, “Where did you hear that name?”
Not Who?
Where.
I closed my eyes.
“You know her.”
“Mara, listen to me.”
“Dad said you do.”
Another silence.
Then her voice changed.
Fear replaced irritation.
“Are you at the cabin?”
“Yes.”
“Get out.”
“Why?”
“Get out right now.”
“Skylar—”
“You don’t understand. Dad wasn’t supposed to leave that place to you.”
Hale looked at me.
“What do you mean?”
Skylar was breathing fast.
“I thought he destroyed everything.”
“What everything?”
Before she answered, glass shattered outside.
The storage unit lights went dark.
Hale dropped beside the filing cabinet.
I killed the laptop screen.
Footsteps moved between the units.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Skylar whispered through the phone.
“Mara?”
I didn’t answer.
The footsteps stopped outside unit 217.
Then a man spoke through the metal door.
“Your sister is right.”
May you like
The padlock began to move.
“You should have stayed away.”
