Chapter 5 - THE NIGHT MY FATHER REALLY DIED
“Put the key on the floor.”
Michael Trent looked older than I remembered.
He had gained weight, and his hair had gone mostly gray, but the voice was the same one that had spoken gently to me outside the morgue thirteen years earlier.
I had been fifteen.
Wrapped in a police blanket.
Unable to stop shaking.
Trent had crouched in front of me and said, Elena, your father didn’t suffer.
Now he held a gun against Sofia’s head.
I placed the key on the concrete.
“You lied to me.”
Trent smiled.
“About many things.”
Sofia’s eyes found mine.
There was fear in them.
But something else too.
Anger.
Her hands were tied behind the chair.
Blood had dried beneath her nose.
“Let her go.”
“After I confirm the key.”
“It opens a compartment at Ashwood.”
“I know.”
“Then why do you need it?”
“Because I need to know what David left inside.”
“Nothing.”
The smile disappeared.
“That would be unfortunate.”
“I opened it. There was a cassette.”
Trent’s eyes sharpened.
“What cassette?”
“One with Raymond’s name.”
For the first time, he looked at Sofia.
That was a mistake.
She kicked backward hard enough to knock the chair into him.
The gun moved from her head.
I dropped.
A suppressed shot cracked somewhere above us.
The weapon flew from Trent’s hand.
Dominic.
Chaos erupted.
Men came from behind shipping containers.
Marco and two others emerged from a side entrance.
I crawled toward Sofia.
Trent lunged for the dropped gun.
Another shot hit the concrete beside his hand.
He froze.
Dominic descended a metal staircase.
“Touch it,” he said calmly, “and the next bullet goes somewhere less forgiving.”
Trent raised his hands.
I reached Sofia and cut the plastic restraints with a utility blade Dominic had given me.
She grabbed me.
“You idiot.”
I nearly laughed from relief.
“You’re welcome.”
“No, seriously. You are an unbelievable idiot.”
“Later.”
Dominic approached Trent.
“Who gave the order on David Ward?”
Trent said nothing.
Dominic hit him once.
Not wildly.
Not dramatically.
A single controlled blow.
Trent dropped to one knee.
“Dominic.”
He looked at me.
“No.”
“This isn’t how we get answers.”
His jaw tightened.
For a second I saw exactly what the newspapers meant when they called him dangerous.
Then he stepped back.
“Fine.”
Sofia stood unsteadily.
“My father left something.”
All of us turned.
“What?” I asked.
She swallowed.
“When you said Raymond on the phone, I remembered.”
“Remembered what?”
“Dad gave me a safe-deposit key before he died.”
My heart stopped.
“He told me never to use it unless you asked about the night David died.”
I stared at her.
“You had that for four years?”
“I didn’t know what it meant.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you never asked about that night. Not really. Every time I tried talking about your dad, you changed the subject.”
She was right.
That hurt more than I wanted it to.
Trent laughed from the floor.
“You think Raymond was protecting you?”
Sofia turned toward him.
“My father was ten times the man you are.”
“Your father was a coward.”
She crossed the distance and slapped him.
Hard.
Trent laughed again.
“He photographed the crash. He knew exactly what happened. And then he spent nine years keeping quiet.”
Sofia went pale.
“Why?”
“Because we had you.”
The warehouse became silent.
Trent smiled at her.
“You were nineteen when Raymond finally decided to grow a conscience. Keene showed him photographs of you leaving campus. Your apartment. Your car. Your boyfriend’s address.”
Sofia’s face crumpled.
“He kept quiet to protect me.”
“Call it whatever makes you sleep better.”
I looked at Trent.
“And my father?”
His eyes returned to me.
“David Ward was offered the same choice.”
“What choice?”
“Stop digging or lose his daughter.”
My breathing became shallow.
“He stopped.”
Trent shook his head.
“No. That was the problem.”
I took a step closer.
“What happened on Route Nine?”
Dominic said quietly, “Elena.”
“No. I need to hear it.”
Trent studied me.
Perhaps he believed the truth would destroy me.
Maybe that was why he told it.
“They forced his car off the road.”
My hands went cold.
“Who?”
“Two vehicles. One in front. One behind. Your father tried to take the shoulder. He hit the barrier.”
I remembered the police photograph I had seen once.
The crushed driver’s side.
Rain on twisted metal.
“They expected the crash to kill him.”
Trent smiled without humor.
“It didn’t.”
My breath caught.
“What?”
“He was alive.”
The room disappeared around me.
“What did you say?”
“David survived the crash.”
I heard Sofia whisper my name.
I could not look at her.
“You told me he died instantly.”
“That was the official version.”
“What happened?”
Trent said nothing.
I crossed the distance before anyone could stop me and grabbed his shirt.
“What happened to my father?”
His expression remained almost bored.
“Keene arrived before the ambulance.”
Something inside me broke.
“Was my father conscious?”
“Yes.”
“Did he say anything?”
Trent hesitated.
Then smiled.
“He asked for you.”
I hit him.
My fist exploded with pain.
I hit him again.
Dominic caught me from behind.
“Enough.”
“No!”
“Elena.”
“He was alive!”
“I know.”
“You knew?”
Dominic released me slowly.
His silence answered.
I turned.
“You knew he survived the crash.”
“I learned years later.”
“You never told me.”
“I had no proof.”
“That didn’t stop you from telling me he was murdered.”
“I wanted facts before I told you how.”
I could barely see through the tears.
“What did Keene do?”
Trent answered for him.
“He leaned into the car and asked David where the ledgers were.”
My whole body shook.
“And?”
“David laughed.”
A strange expression crossed Trent’s face.
“Bleeding out, ribs broken, barely breathing. And your father laughed in Thomas Keene’s face.”
“What did he say?”
Trent looked directly at me.
“He said, ‘You’ll never find the third one.’”
The third ledger.
First door opened by blood.
Second by trust.
Third by truth.
“Then what?”
Trent looked away.
“Keene made sure David never reached the hospital.”
Sofia began crying quietly.
Dominic lowered his head.
For thirteen years, I had imagined my father dying alone in a wreck.
The truth was worse.
He had survived.
He had fought.
He had protected me to his final breath.
Sirens sounded outside.
Marco cursed.
“Police.”
Trent smiled.
“Not yours.”
Dominic grabbed his arm.
“Move.”
We escaped through a rear loading door seconds before tactical teams entered the warehouse.
Trent came with us.
For six blocks.
Then everything went wrong.
A black pickup slammed into our vehicle.
Glass shattered.
Our SUV spun across the road.
I struck my head against the window.
Through the ringing in my ears, I heard gunfire.
Someone ripped open the rear door.
A masked man pulled Trent outside.
Dominic fired.
The man disappeared behind the pickup.
When the smoke cleared, Trent was gone.
But something had fallen from his jacket.
A federal identification card.
Not his.
I picked it up.
SPECIAL AGENT MAYA CHEN.
Dominic stared at the photograph.
“You know her?” I asked.
His expression told me he did.
“She was the prosecutor your father tried to contact.”
“But you said that prosecutor disappeared.”
“I said the prosecutor assigned to the investigation disappeared.”
He took the ID.
“Maya Chen was his assistant.”
Sofia wiped blood from her lip.
“If she’s alive, maybe she can help.”
Dominic shook his head.
“Or she has been working for Keene for thirteen years.”
My phone buzzed.
Another unknown number.
This time there was no photograph.
Only an address.
And one sentence.
IF YOU WANT TO KNOW WHERE THE THIRD LEDGER IS, COME WITHOUT RINALDI.
May you like
Signed:
MAYA CHEN.
