Chapter 3 - Locker 317
I stared at the photograph and whispered, “Michael.”
Then another message arrived.
It contained a picture of Locker 317.
A fresh scratch ran across the brass keyhole.
Someone had already tried to open it.
And whoever sent the photograph knew I had the key.
I called Ellen.
She answered immediately.
“Michael’s been hurt.”
“What?”
I sent her the photograph.
She inhaled sharply.
“Where are you?”
“Hospital.”
“Stay somewhere public.”
“Who is Michael?”
Silence.
“Ellen.”
“He worked for Thomas.”
“Doing what?”
“Security investigations.”
I looked through the glass at Richard.
“He was following Richard?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
“Claire, Michael was investigating Daniel.”
The hallway seemed to tilt.
“My husband?”
“Thomas asked him to.”
“Why?”
“Because of Rebecca.”
There was that name again.
“Who is she?”
“You need to ask Daniel.”
“He's trying to get home.”
“Then wait.”
“No.”
“Claire—”
“Someone blocked Daniel's number on my phone. Someone impersonated him. Someone attacked Michael. I'm done waiting.”
Ellen sighed.
“Then don't go to Locker 317 alone.”
“Come with me.”
“I can't.”
“Why?”
“Because I'm not in the city.”
“Where are you?”
“Three hours away.”
I looked at the clock.
Thomas was still surrounded by doctors.
Noah needed food.
Daniel was somewhere between Germany and home.
And a locker six blocks away might explain everything.
I made a decision.
I asked hospital security to escort Noah and me to a taxi.
I didn't tell Richard where we were going.
At Union Station, I kept Noah beside me.
Locker 317 was downstairs near the baggage storage area.
Hundreds of people moved around us.
Cameras everywhere.
Exactly what Michael had wanted.
The locker looked ordinary.
Except for the scratch.
I inserted Thomas's key.
It opened.
Inside was a black backpack.
Nothing else.
I carried it to a crowded coffee shop.
Noah ate a muffin while I opened the bag beneath the table.
Inside were three things.
A flash drive.
A paper ledger.
And a photograph.
The photograph showed Daniel.
He looked younger.
Maybe twenty-five.
Beside him stood a woman with red hair.
She was holding a newborn baby.
On the back:
DANIEL, REBECCA & ELI — MAY 2015.
I couldn't breathe.
Daniel and I had met in 2017.
We married in 2019.
Noah was born in 2021.
Daniel had never told me about Rebecca.
Or Eli.
I called him.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
I opened the ledger.
Pages of payments.
Dates.
Companies.
Amounts.
Some were hundreds of thousands of dollars.
Others millions.
Seven companies.
Exactly as Thomas had said.
Then I saw a familiar name.
CRANE LEGAL CONSULTING.
Melissa Crane.
Payments totaling $1.8 million.
Another company:
RHB DEVELOPMENT.
Richard Harrison Bennett.
$2.3 million.
But the largest payments went somewhere else.
HORIZON CHILDREN’S FOUNDATION.
$6.4 million.
I searched the name on my phone.
A nonprofit organization helping children whose parents had died in industrial accidents.
I stared at the screen.
Industrial accidents.
Bennett Industrial.
My stomach tightened.
I inserted the flash drive into a small adapter from the backpack.
There were dozens of files.
Inspection reports.
Emails.
Photographs.
Audio recordings.
Then I saw a folder.
REBECCA HALE.
I opened it.
Rebecca had worked for Bennett Industrial.
Quality assurance.
In 2015, she discovered defective pressure valves being shipped from one of Bennett’s plants.
She reported them.
Management ignored her.
Three months later, one failed at a chemical processing facility.
Two workers died.
Seven were injured.
Rebecca threatened to expose the company.
Then she disappeared.
My hands shook.
There was one audio recording.
Thomas's voice.
“Rebecca, you need to understand what you're doing.”
Rebecca answered.
“People died.”
“We'll compensate the families.”
“You knew those valves were defective.”
“I didn't.”
“Richard did.”
Silence.
Then Thomas:
“Where is Daniel?”
“He doesn't know I'm here.”
“He needs to.”
“No. He'll protect his brother.”
The recording ended.
I sat frozen.
Rebecca had known Daniel.
Had a baby with him.
And had accused Richard of knowingly shipping defective equipment.
A second file contained a newspaper clipping.
LOCAL WOMAN KILLED IN HIGHWAY ACCIDENT.
Rebecca Hale.
Age twenty-six.
She died when her car crossed the median.
Her infant son survived because he had been staying with a babysitter.
Eli.
Daniel had a son.
A son who might still be alive.
I heard a chair scrape.
Someone sat across from me.
I looked up.
Richard.
Noah smiled innocently.
“Uncle Richard!”
Every muscle in my body locked.
Richard looked at the backpack.
Then the photograph.
His face changed.
“You opened it.”
I closed the laptop.
“How did you find me?”
“Your phone.”
I realized.
Family location sharing.
Daniel's entire family had access.
Richard leaned forward.
“Claire, you're getting involved in things you don't understand.”
“Who was Rebecca?”
His jaw tightened.
“Daniel's girlfriend.”
“And Eli?”
“You need to ask Daniel.”
“Where is he?”
“I don't know.”
“You've been tracking me.”
“For your safety.”
“Did you attack Michael?”
Richard frowned.
“Who?”
“The man from the bus.”
His confusion looked genuine.
That frightened me.
If Richard hadn't attacked Michael, someone else had.
I gathered the backpack.
Richard placed his hand over it.
“Leave that here.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“No.”
Noah watched us.
I lowered my voice.
“Take your hand off my bag.”
Richard did.
Then he said something unexpected.
“You think I'm the villain.”
“I don't know what you are.”
“Good.”
He leaned closer.
“Because Dad wanted you to think it was me.”
“Why?”
“To keep you from looking at Daniel.”
I stared at him.
“You're lying.”
“I wish I were.”
My phone rang.
Daniel.
I answered immediately.
“Daniel?”
“Claire.”
His voice sounded strange.
“Where are you?”
“Airport.”
“Which airport?”
Silence.
“Daniel?”
Then he said:
“Did you open the locker?”
I looked at Richard.
“Yes.”
Daniel exhaled.
“Then you know about Rebecca.”
“And Eli.”
Another silence.
“You have a son.”
“Yes.”
My eyes filled with tears.
“You never told me.”
“I thought he was dead.”
“What?”
Richard stood.
His expression changed.
Daniel continued.
“Rebecca told me Eli died three weeks after she did.”
“But the photograph—”
“I know.”
“How could you not verify it?”
“I tried.”
“Daniel, he's your child!”
“I know!”
People turned.
Daniel lowered his voice.
“Claire, there are things you don't understand.”
“Then explain them.”
“I will.”
“When?”
“Soon.”
“Where are you?”
He hesitated.
That was enough.
“You're not at an airport.”
Richard reached for my phone.
I pulled away.
“Daniel, where are you?”
Then a voice sounded behind Daniel.
A child's voice.
Older than Noah.
“Dad?”
Daniel stopped speaking.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
“Daniel?”
Richard whispered:
“Oh, God.”
I heard footsteps.
Daniel said:
“Claire, I can explain.”
Then the video activated.
Daniel's face appeared.
Behind him stood a boy.
About eleven.
Brown hair.
Hazel eyes.
And around his neck was the same small silver cross Daniel had worn every day since I met him.
The boy looked directly into the camera.
“Are you Claire?”
I couldn't answer.
He stepped closer.
“My name is Eli.”
Then someone behind him opened a door.
Daniel looked over his shoulder.
May you like
His face went white.
And the call ended.
