Chapter 5 - The Voice on the Dead Man’s Phone
“Clara!”
The shout came from the darkness outside the red door.
Adrian moved before I did.
He pulled me behind him as two of his men raised their weapons toward the passage.
Daniel backed against the desk.
The old flip phone was still pressed to my ear.
“Dad?”
Static crackled.
Then the voice returned.
“Cece, listen to me.”
My chest tightened so hard it hurt.
I knew that voice.
Time could weaken it.
Pain could roughen it.
Three years could turn it into something almost unfamiliar.
But nobody could imitate the way my father said that name.
“Where are you?”
“Don't tell Daniel anything.”
I looked across the dark room.
Daniel was barely visible in the emergency light coming from the security monitors.
His face had gone white.
“Thomas?” he whispered.
The caller heard him.
“Get away from him.”
Daniel shook his head violently.
“Clara, don't.”
Adrian turned toward him.
“Quiet.”
Another crash came from the warehouse.
Then gunfire.
One shot.
Two.
Adrian’s men moved into the passage.
“Boss, stay here.”
Adrian ignored them.
He looked at me.
“Can you walk?”
“Yes.”
“Stay behind me.”
The phone crackled again.
“Cece?”
“I’m here.”
“Leave the warehouse.”
“Not until you tell me where you are.”
A pause.
Too long.
“Dad?”
“I can't.”
“Why?”
“Because they're listening.”
My throat tightened.
“Who?”
The line went silent.
“Dad?”
Nothing.
Then three words.
“Trust the scar.”
I looked up.
Adrian was staring at me.
The narrow scar crossing his eyebrow caught the dim light.
My father knew Adrian.
Not just his family.
Him.
“Dad, how do you know—”
The call ended.
I stared at the phone.
“No.”
I pressed redial.
Nothing.
Again.
Nothing.
Adrian held out his hand.
“Give it to me.”
I did.
He checked the screen.
“No number.”
“Can you trace it?”
“If the connection passed through our network long enough.”
Daniel stepped forward.
“That phone isn't connected to your network.”
Adrian looked at him.
“What?”
“It uses an old private relay.”
“Whose?”
Daniel hesitated.
“Thomas's.”
I turned on him.
“You said my father was dead.”
“I believed he was.”
“He just told me not to trust you.”
Pain crossed Daniel’s face.
“I heard.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
“Stop saying that!”
My voice echoed through the hidden room.
Three years of grief had just been ripped open.
I had buried my father.
Not his body.
There had been no body.
Margaret told me the crash caused a fire after I was pulled from the car.
The coffin had remained closed.
I remembered asking to see him.
Margaret refused.
Too damaged, sweetheart.
Remember him as he was.
I had believed her.
I had believed everything.
“Did you see his body?” I asked Daniel.
He lowered his eyes.
“No.”
“Did anyone?”
“I was told identification had been confirmed.”
“By whom?”
Daniel didn't answer.
Adrian did.
“Margaret?”
Daniel nodded.
My stomach turned.
The gunfire outside stopped.
That silence was worse.
One of Adrian’s men appeared at the red door.
Blood ran down his temple.
“Boss, two intruders. One down. One escaped through the east loading bay.”
“Who shouted Clara’s name?”
“We don't know.”
“You don't know?”
“The voice came over the warehouse speaker system.”
Adrian’s eyes moved toward the security monitors.
Someone had hacked them.
Every screen suddenly flickered.
Then went black.
A second later, white letters appeared.
LEAVE THE LEDGER.
TAKE THE GIRL.
YOU HAVE THREE MINUTES.
Adrian stared at the message.
Then he smiled.
It was the first time I understood why people feared him.
There was no humor in it.
“They think they're negotiating.”
Daniel gripped his cane.
“We should do what they say.”
Adrian looked at him.
“No.”
“They'll kill us.”
“They already tried.”
“We have Clara here.”
“So?”
“So her safety matters more than that ledger.”
Adrian’s eyes narrowed.
“That is the first intelligent thing you've said.”
He picked up the black ledger.
Then handed it to me.
I stared at him.
“What are you doing?”
“Making sure Daniel can't take it.”
Daniel looked offended.
“Adrian—”
“My father trusted you once.”
“Your father trusted almost nobody.”
“Exactly.”
Adrian turned toward his men.
“Evacuate through the south tunnel.”
Daniel froze.
“There is no south tunnel.”
Adrian looked at him.
“You've been monitoring this building for three years and didn't know?”
Daniel said nothing.
Adrian pressed a hidden switch beneath one of the shelves.
A metal panel opened.
I stared at him.
“How did you know?”
“My father brought me here once.”
“You said you had only seen the warehouse.”
“I said I didn't know what was hidden beneath it.”
“You're very careful with words.”
“You should be too.”
He gestured toward the tunnel.
We moved.
I carried the ledger against my chest.
Daniel followed.
The passage was narrow and damp.
Adrian walked beside me.
His men formed a line around us.
After several yards, I whispered, “My father told me to trust you.”
“I heard.”
“You don't seem surprised.”
“I am.”
“Then why aren't you acting like it?”
He glanced at me.
“Because surprise gets people killed.”
I almost smiled.
Almost.
“Did you know him personally?”
“I met him twice.”
“When?”
“The second time was four days before his crash.”
I stopped.
Adrian turned.
“What?”
“You never told me that.”
“You never asked.”
“Don't do that.”
“Do what?”
“Give me pieces.”
Something changed in his expression.
He looked almost ashamed.
“Your father came to me because he didn't trust mine.”
“What did he want?”
“Protection.”
“For himself?”
Adrian looked directly at me.
“For you.”
The tunnel suddenly felt too small.
“Why didn't you protect me?”
“I tried.”
I stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
“He gave me your photograph and told me that if anything happened, I was supposed to get you out of the city.”
“You didn't.”
“I went to your house the morning after the crash.”
My anger sharpened.
“And?”
“You were gone.”
I remembered.
Margaret had taken me to a private clinic outside the city.
She said I needed treatment for shock.
I spent six days sedated.
When I returned home, my father's funeral had already been arranged.
“Margaret hid me.”
“Yes.”
“How long did you look?”
“Eleven months.”
That stopped me.
“You looked for me for eleven months?”
“Every day.”
I searched his face for exaggeration.
There wasn't any.
“Why?”
“Because I made your father a promise.”
A strange ache moved through me.
“Then why did you stop?”
“I found you.”
“What?”
“At the diner.”
I remembered men sometimes sitting in the corner booth.
Always different.
Always leaving large tips.
I thought they were businessmen.
“Your people.”
“Yes.”
“You were watching me too.”
“Yes.”
Anger rose again.
“Everyone was watching me while nobody bothered to speak to me.”
“I had a reason.”
“So did Daniel.”
Adrian accepted the criticism without defending himself.
“You're right.”
That surprised me more than an argument would have.
“Why stay away?”
“Because by then I knew someone was waiting for me to approach you.”
“Who?”
“I didn't know.”
“And now?”
“Roman.”
The name hung between us.
His supposedly dead uncle.
The man connected to my father's murder.
“Why would Roman care if you approached me?”
“Because he knows your father gave me something.”
“What?”
Adrian looked ahead.
“A key.”
My steps slowed.
“A physical key?”
“Yes.”
“To what?”
“Your father never told me.”
“Do you still have it?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
Adrian touched the chain beneath his shirt.
I stared.
He had been carrying part of my father's secret around his neck.
For years.
“Show me.”
“Not here.”
“Adrian.”
“When we're secure.”
I wanted to argue.
But the tunnel ended.
One of his men pushed open a metal hatch.
Cold air rushed inside.
We emerged into an underground parking garage two blocks from the warehouse.
Three black vehicles waited.
Adrian guided me toward the center SUV.
Daniel followed.
Adrian stopped him.
“You're riding separately.”
Daniel stared.
“Why?”
“Because Thomas told Clara not to trust you.”
“You cannot possibly believe—”
“I believe dead men rarely make unnecessary phone calls.”
Daniel’s face tightened.
“Thomas isn't dead.”
“Then that's an even better reason to listen.”
Daniel was escorted toward another vehicle.
I climbed into the SUV.
Adrian sat beside me.
The ledger remained on my lap.
We drove.
For several minutes, neither of us spoke.
Then Adrian removed the chain from beneath his shirt.
A small brass key hung from it.
Nothing dramatic.
Nothing expensive.
Just a key.
Stamped with two characters.
W-17.
I touched it.
“Does that mean anything to you?”
“No.”
I opened the ledger.
Maybe the code appeared somewhere inside.
Pages turned beneath my fingers.
W-03.
W-09.
W-14.
Then W-17.
I stopped.
A page had been removed.
Carefully.
Not torn.
Cut.
“Someone took it.”
Adrian leaned closer.
On the remaining edge was a fragment of handwriting.
My father's handwriting.
Two incomplete words.
MERC—
And underneath:
DO NOT—
Adrian stared.
“Mercer.”
Daniel Mercer.
My pulse accelerated.
The SUV suddenly slowed.
Adrian looked toward the driver.
“Why are we stopping?”
No answer.
The privacy divider was up.
Adrian reached for his weapon.
“Marco?”
Nothing.
The vehicle stopped completely.
Adrian pulled me down.
“Stay low.”
He pressed a button.
The divider didn't move.
He tried the door.
Locked.
His expression hardened.
The lights inside the SUV went out.
My phone vibrated.
I almost screamed.
Unknown number.
A photograph had arrived.
Daniel.
He was sitting in the back of the other vehicle.
Except he wasn't alone.
Margaret sat beside him.
Alive.
Free.
Looking directly into the camera.
Beneath the photograph was one sentence.
ASK DANIEL WHO PULLED YOU FROM THE CAR.
I stared at the message.
A memory exploded through me.
The crash.
Smoke.
Blood.
Someone cutting my seat belt.
Hands pulling me through the broken window.
I had seen a face.
I had forgotten it.
Silver hair.
Daniel.
“He was there,” I whispered.
Adrian looked at me.
“What?”
“Daniel was at the crash.”
Another memory followed.
My father screaming from inside the car.
Daniel carrying me away.
And Margaret running toward the wreck.
But there had been someone else.
A man standing beside my father's door.
He turned when Daniel shouted.
A triangle-shaped ring flashed on his hand.
Roman.
My phone vibrated again.
This time it wasn't a message.
It was a video.
I pressed play.
Daniel appeared on screen.
He looked terrified.
Margaret sat beside him.
A gun was pressed against her head.
Then someone outside the frame spoke.
“Clara, if you're watching this, Adrian has already shown you the key.”
Adrian went completely still.
The unseen man continued.
“W-17 doesn't open a box.”
A pause.
“It opens a hospital room.”
My breath caught.
The camera turned.
A door appeared behind Daniel.
White.
Institutional.
A metal plate was fixed to it.
W-17.
Then a hand reached into frame.
A triangle-shaped ring.
The door slowly opened.
Inside was a hospital bed.
Someone was lying beneath the blankets.
The camera moved closer.
I saw a man's hand.
A familiar wedding ring.
The same ring my father wore every day of my childhood.
My phone rang.
Unknown caller.
I answered with shaking fingers.
This time, there was no static.
Only my father's voice.
Clear.
Terrified.
“Cece, don't come here.”
Behind him, a lock clicked.
Then another voice entered the room.
May you like
And my father whispered one name.
“Roman...”
