Chapter 3 - THE MAN IN HER FATHER'S PHOTOGRAPH
"Your father didn't sign that paper," Dominic said.
Jolene stood across from him in the market office, still holding the yellow invoice.
"Thank you. I was worried death had become a temporary inconvenience."
Dominic didn't smile.
Beside him, Marco examined the signature.
"It's good," Marco admitted.
"Of course it's good," Jolene snapped. "My father signed hundreds of repair receipts around this market. Anyone could've copied one."
"Not anyone," Dominic replied.
She looked up.
"What does that mean?"
"The person named on this invoice is my chief of freight security."
"Simon Kessler?"
"Yes."
"Then ask him why he's using my dead father's name."
Dominic remained silent.
And Jolene understood something important.
Simon Kessler wasn't merely an employee.
He was someone Dominic trusted.
She set the invoice on the desk.
"You came here looking for a traitor, didn't you?"
Marco looked at Dominic.
Dominic's expression tightened.
"How much did you hear last night?"
"Enough to know nobody buys a bracelet while staring at a locked service door for forty minutes."
"Thirty-two."
"That's somehow worse."
He crossed his arms.
"Simon has worked for my family for seventeen years."
"And my father worked at this market for more than twenty."
"Jolene—"
"So which man's name matters more?"
The question landed harder than she expected.
Dominic looked at the invoice again.
"Neither name puts him above an investigation."
It was the first answer she'd heard that morning she could respect.
But it didn't make her feel safer.
She folded the invoice and placed it in her bag.
"Then investigate."
Outside, vendors were arranging tables beneath the morning sun.
The scent of fresh tortillas drifted through the courtyard.
Children ran between the stalls.
Everything looked ordinary.
That bothered Jolene most.
Something dangerous was moving beneath the familiar world, and nobody else could see it yet.
Lupe followed her to the jewelry table.
"Are you in trouble?"
"I don't know."
"Is that man really Dominic Valcourt?"
"Unfortunately."
Lupe peered across the courtyard.
"He's handsome."
"Lupe."
"I'm married, honey. I'm not blind."
Jolene almost smiled.
Then she noticed someone examining the green door.
A broad-shouldered man wearing a tan work shirt stood beside Dominic.
His dark hair was streaked with silver.
He carried himself like a man accustomed to giving instructions.
Dominic introduced him.
"Jolene, this is Simon Kessler."
Simon offered his hand.
"Miss Hartley. I'm sorry about the confusion."
She didn't shake it.
"Confusion?"
"The maintenance contractor used an old authorization template. Your father's information should've been removed."
"From eight years ago?"
"Administrative mistakes happen."
"Dead men signing invoices isn't usually one of them."
Simon's pleasant expression cooled.
"I understand you're upset."
"No," she said. "You understand I noticed."
Dominic watched the exchange without interfering.
Simon looked toward the green door.
"We've had problems with unauthorized deliveries. I ordered the new lock after discovering someone had compromised the original."
"Who?"
"We're still looking into that."
Jolene pointed to the damaged brass fitting.
"Why did your contractor remove part of the doorframe?"
Simon glanced at it.
"Probably outdated hardware."
"My father installed that hardware to release the latch if the corridor flooded."
For the first time, Simon's eyes sharpened.
"Did he?"
"Yes."
Something passed across his face.
Recognition.
Then it disappeared.
"I'll have the contractor review it."
He turned toward Dominic.
"I need to speak with you privately."
The two men walked away.
Jolene watched Simon until he disappeared around the warehouse corner.
She didn't like him.
Not because he was openly threatening.
Because every answer he gave seemed carefully measured.
Her father used to say that honest craftsmen explained their work.
Dishonest ones explained why you shouldn't examine it.
By noon, the market association had received another surprise.
A city inspector arrived with a notice concerning electrical safety and unauthorized access to the warehouse corridor.
If the problems weren't corrected, Riverstone could lose its operating permit before the Harvest Moon Festival.
Lupe read the notice twice.
"They can't close us."
Dani, the young tote-bag vendor, looked frightened.
"I already paid for my festival inventory."
Old Mr. Abernathy stood beside his record crates.
"I've sold here for nineteen years."
Jolene understood what the market meant to them.
It wasn't merely a collection of stalls.
It was rent money.
Grocery money.
Medical bills.
It was the difference between standing on your own feet and asking strangers for mercy.
Dominic appeared beside her.
"I can arrange an electrician."
Jolene shook her head.
"The association needs estimates. We can't just accept favors."
"It's not a favor if the damage came from someone connected to my business."
"Then help us find out who did it."
He studied her.
"You're difficult."
"My father said I was thorough."
"Your father was probably right."
That caught her off guard.
For a moment, she saw no frightening reputation.
Only a man who looked tired of people agreeing with him.
Her phone vibrated with a message from Caleb.
Found Dad's old repair ledger. You need to see this.
Jolene excused herself.
Caleb was waiting at her apartment that afternoon when she arrived.
At nineteen, he had their father's dark eyes and a nervous habit of tapping his fingers whenever he was thinking.
He'd spread the contents of Henry's old toolbox across the kitchen table.
"You remember Dad's pocket watch?"
Jolene's throat tightened.
"Of course."
Caleb lifted the silver watch from a faded leather pouch.
Its hands had stopped at 11:14.
Their father had carried it every day.
After he died, neither sibling had been able to bring themselves to repair it.
"I was looking for the paperwork from his last hospital stay," Caleb said. "I found this mixed in with his repair books."
He showed her an old work order.
The page was dated October 2010.
Client: Valcourt Freight.
Location: Riverstone Cold Storage.
Job: Emergency gate release and mechanical override.
There was a handwritten note beneath it.
Do not seal the west corridor while occupied.
Jolene frowned.
"Why would Dad write that?"
"I don't know. But look at the next page."
It contained a rough diagram of the green door's original lock.
Two release mechanisms.
One inside.
One outside.
Her father had circled a small brass component and written:
Must remain accessible during flood conditions.
Jolene remembered the missing fitting.
Someone had removed the emergency release.
That meant the door wasn't merely more secure.
It was potentially deadly.
"Caleb, we need to tell the market association."
"I think there's something else."
He pulled a folded photograph from between the pages.
It showed four adults standing beside the old warehouse entrance.
Henry Hartley was younger, his hair still dark.
Beside him stood a heavyset man in an expensive suit.
A woman wearing a market association badge stood near the door.
And on the far right was a younger man in a tan work shirt.
Jolene recognized him immediately.
Simon Kessler.
"That's him," she whispered.
Caleb looked confused.
"Who?"
"Dominic's security chief."
Caleb pointed to the heavyset man.
"Do you know this one?"
She shook her head.
But when Dominic arrived an hour later, he knew the face immediately.
He took the photograph.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he turned it over.
Four names had been written on the back.
Henry Hartley.
Salvatore Valcourt.
Rosa Kessler.
Simon Kessler.
Dominic stared at his father's name.
"My father told me he never visited Riverstone."
Jolene looked at him.
"Why would he lie?"
Dominic's jaw tightened.
"That's what I'd like to know."
Caleb took the photograph back.
"There's a date stamped in the corner."
October 16, 2010.
Dominic's face changed.
Marco, who had accompanied him, went completely still.
Jolene noticed both reactions.
"What happened on October sixteenth?"
Marco looked away.
Dominic finally answered.
"There was a flood."
"And?"
"Two warehouse workers died."
Jolene looked down at her father's work order.
Do not seal the west corridor while occupied.
Her skin prickled.
"Did they drown?"
"Officially, yes."
"What does 'officially' mean?"
Dominic didn't answer immediately.
Then he said something that made Caleb lower the photograph.
"My father paid both families to stop asking questions."
Silence filled the kitchen.
Jolene looked at the stopped pocket watch.
11:14.
Suddenly, she wondered whether those hands had stopped for a reason.
Dominic turned toward Marco.
"Where is Rosa Kessler now?"
"Still in San Antonio. Simon supports her."
"Find out if she's willing to speak to us."
Marco nodded.
But before he reached the door, Caleb cleared his throat.
"There's something on the back of the photograph."
He tilted it toward the kitchen light.
Beneath the four names, written in Henry Hartley's unmistakable handwriting, was one final sentence.
THE GATE WAS LOCKED AT 11:14. ROSA KNOWS WHO GAVE THE ORDER.
May you like
Dominic slowly lowered his eyes to his father's photograph.
For the first time since Jolene had met him, the most feared man in San Antonio looked genuinely afraid of what he was about to discover.
