Daniel reacted before anyone else.
“Phones down.”
Lucas stared at him. “What?”
“Put them on the table. Now.”
Nobody argued.
Five phones landed beside the photograph.
Daniel crossed to the windows and closed every curtain.
Marisol moved toward the back of the house.
“Kitchen too?”
“Yes.”
Robert followed her. “Stay away from the glass.”
She turned sharply. “You do not get to give safety advice today.”
He stopped.
Daniel took a slow breath. “Everyone needs to stop attacking Dad for thirty seconds.”
Lucas blinked. “You feeling okay?”
“No. But if someone can see inside this house, yelling isn't useful.”
He pointed toward my phone.
“The message could mean surveillance, a camera, someone watching from outside, or somebody with access to one of our devices.”
Robert looked at him. “Victor has people who can do that.”
Daniel's expression hardened. “Based on actual knowledge, or are you trying to scare us?”
“Actual knowledge.”
That silenced everyone.
I looked toward the curtained window. “The SUV.”
“Could be them,” Daniel said. “Could be coincidence. We don't know.”
“It isn't coincidence,” Robert said.
“How can you tell?”
“The driver.”
“You recognized him?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“Name's Colin Mercer.”
Daniel repeated it. “Mercer.”
“He collects.”
Lucas gave him a flat look. “Money?”
“Sometimes.”
“And other times?”
Robert didn't answer.
I didn't need him to.
Daniel walked toward the door.
Robert grabbed his arm.
“Don't.”
Daniel looked at the hand.
Robert released him.
“They want you afraid. Going outside gives them what they want.”
Daniel stepped back.
“You're probably right.”
That seemed to surprise Robert.
“It doesn't mean I trust you.”
“I know.”
“Stop saying that.”
For the first time all morning, Robert almost smiled.
It disappeared when another message arrived.
Not on my phone.
On Marisol's.
She looked down.
Her face changed.
“What?”
She turned the screen toward us.
A photograph filled it.
The image showed our living room through the front window.
It had been taken minutes earlier.
Robert standing near the coffee table.
Me holding the blue folder.
Daniel beside the staircase.
Underneath were four words.
FORTY-SEVEN HOURS, FIFTY-ONE MINUTES.
Lucas whispered something profane.
Daniel took the phone.
“They're using intimidation.”
Marisol hugged herself. “It's working.”
I crossed to her.
She leaned against me for half a second, then straightened.
I knew that habit.
She had learned it from me.
“We should call the police,” Lucas said.
Robert immediately shook his head.
Daniel noticed. “Why not?”
“Because Mercer isn't carrying anything illegal by sitting in a car.”
“He just sent us a photo.”
“Can you prove it was him?”
“Maybe.”
“And while police are asking questions, Victor learns we're escalating.”
Daniel stared at him.
“You're still protecting Victor.”
“No.”
“It sounds like it.”
Robert's face tightened. “I'm trying to keep you alive.”
The room went still.
Lucas lowered his voice. “Is murder actually on the table?”
Robert looked at me instead of answering.
That was worse than yes.
I picked up the blue folder.
“We're leaving.”
Robert straightened. “Where?”
“Somewhere they aren't watching.”
“They'll follow.”
“Then we'll see who follows.”
Daniel nodded. “Mom's right.”
“Absolutely not,” Robert said.
I looked at him. “You lost veto power years ago.”
“We need to think.”
“I have.”
“What are you planning?”
I closed the folder.
“I'm going to find out what my father knew.”
Robert stared at me.
“How?”
“My father's storage unit.”
His expression gave him away.
Again.
Daniel saw it too.
“You know about it.”
Robert looked toward the floor.
I felt anger rise. “Of course you do.”
“Elena.”
“What was in there?”
“I don't know.”
“You lie badly when you're tired.”
He rubbed both hands down his face.
“Your father rented a storage locker near the old industrial park.”
“I know.”
That surprised Robert.
“You do?”
“Yes. I paid the renewal once after he died.”
“What happened after?”
“Mom told me she'd closed it.”
Robert became very still.
“She didn't.”
My stomach tightened.
“How do you know?”
“Because I went there after she died.”
Daniel stepped closer. “Why?”
“Your grandmother asked me to.”
“When?”
“Two days before she died.”
“And what did you find?”
“Almost nothing.”
“Almost?”
“A desk. Filing cabinets. Some boxes.”
“No ledger?”
“No.”
“Trust documents?”
“No.”
I looked at him. “What did Mom ask you to retrieve?”
Robert didn't answer.
“Robert.”
“A key.”
“What key?”
“I don't know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“She gave me an envelope with the storage number and told me there would be a key taped under the bottom drawer of the desk.”
“Did you find it?”
“Yes.”
“Where is it?”
“I gave it back.”
“To my mother?”
He hesitated.
“No.”
My entire body went cold.
“To Victor.”
Marisol stared at him.
Lucas stood.
Daniel's face emptied of expression.
I whispered, “Why?”
Robert looked miserable.
“Because he was with me.”
“You brought Victor to my father's storage unit?”
“I didn't bring him. He followed me.”
“And you handed him the key?”
“He said your mother had sent him.”
“She sent you.”
“I know that now.”
“You knew it then.”
Robert's voice rose. “I was scared!”
The shout echoed through the living room.
Buddy barked.
Robert lowered his voice immediately.
“I had already discovered things I shouldn't have. Victor knew I knew. Your mother was sick. Your father was dead. I thought cooperating would keep everybody safe.”
I stared at him.
“How did that work out?”
He couldn't answer.
We left through the garage ten minutes later.
Daniel drove my SUV. Lucas rode with him. Marisol sat beside me in the second row, while Robert occupied the back seat like an unwanted passenger nobody trusted enough to leave behind.
The gray SUV moved three cars after us.
Daniel checked the mirror.
“They're following.”
Robert leaned forward. “Don't go to the storage facility.”
“I wasn't planning to.”
Daniel turned left.
Then right.
Then joined the highway.
Lucas watched behind us.
“They're still there.”
Marisol reached for my hand.
I let her take it.
“Where are we going?” Robert asked.
Daniel answered.
“Police station.”
Robert stiffened.
“Daniel—”
“We aren't stopping.”
He drove past the station.
The gray SUV slowed.
For one hopeful second I thought it might turn away.
Instead it continued.
Lucas smiled without humor. “Guess they're committed.”
Daniel took another exit.
Then another.
After twenty minutes, the SUV remained behind us.
I looked at Robert.
“How powerful is Victor?”
He stared out the window.
“Enough.”
“That means nothing.”
“He knows judges. Lawyers. bankers. Developers.”
“Police?”
Robert didn't answer.
Daniel looked at him through the mirror.
“That was not comforting.”
Eventually we pulled into the parking structure of a large shopping complex.
Daniel drove down two levels, circled, then exited through another ramp.
The gray SUV missed the turn.
Lucas twisted around.
“Gone.”
“For now,” Robert said.
Daniel headed toward the industrial district.
The storage facility looked older than I remembered.
Faded orange doors stretched in parallel rows beneath a cloudless sky.
The manager glanced at my identification.
Then his computer.
“Unit 214?”
“Yes.”
He frowned.
“What?”
“This unit isn't in your mother's name.”
“Whose is it?”
He turned the monitor slightly.
ELENA CARTER.
I stared.
“That can't be right.”
“It was transferred six years ago.”
“By whom?”
He clicked.
“Your father.”
Robert whispered, “Six years.”
Nine months before Dad died.
The same period as the photograph.
The manager printed a form.
“There haven't been many visits.”
Daniel took it.
“How many?”
“Three in the last six years.”
The first was Robert.
The date matched his story.
The second was eighteen months later.
The visitor signature read V. HALE.
My skin prickled.
The third visit was recent.
Three weeks ago.
I looked at the name.
Nobody spoke.
ROBERT CARTER.
I turned toward him.
“You said you hadn't been here since my mother died.”
His face drained.
“I haven't.”
Daniel held up the paper.
“Your signature says otherwise.”
Robert stared.
“That isn't mine.”
Lucas laughed bitterly. “Convenient.”
“It isn't.”
I studied it.
Fifteen years of birthday cards, checks and school forms had taught me Robert's signature.
This one was close.
But wrong.
The R was too narrow.
“He's telling the truth.”
Daniel compared the form with the signature on Robert's driver's license.
“Mom's right.”
Marisol whispered, “Someone forged Dad's signature too.”
Robert looked at me.
For the first time that day, we shared the same realization.
Whatever had been done to me had also been done to him.
The unit door opened with a groan.
Inside sat the same desk Robert had described.
Two empty filing cabinets.
Three cardboard boxes.
Dust everywhere.
Daniel checked the floor.
“Someone's been here recently.”
A clean path ran from the door to the desk.
Lucas opened the first box.
Old receipts.
The second contained photographs.
The third held tax files.
I went to the desk.
The bottom drawer stuck halfway.
Robert moved beside me.
“This one.”
“You said the key was taped underneath.”
“It was.”
I pulled the drawer completely free.
Nothing beneath it.
Daniel crouched.
“Wait.”
He ran his fingers along the wooden frame.
A small groove had been cut into the underside.
He pressed.
Something clicked.
A false panel dropped open.
Inside was an envelope.
My father's handwriting covered the front.
FOR ELENA ONLY.
Robert backed away.
I opened it.
Inside was a key.
Small.
Brass.
Attached to a metal tag engraved with three numbers.
317.
Lucas frowned. “Safe deposit box?”
Daniel shook his head. “Could be.”
A folded note remained inside.
I opened it.
My father's handwriting was hurried.
ELENA—
IF YOU FOUND THIS, SOMEONE HAS ALREADY LIED TO YOU ABOUT THE HOUSE.
DO NOT GIVE THIS KEY TO ROBERT.
DO NOT GIVE IT TO VICTOR.
TRUST THE PERSON WHO BRINGS YOU THE RED BOOK.
I read it twice.
Marisol looked over my shoulder.
“What red book?”
“I don't know.”
Robert stared at the note.
“He knew.”
“Knew what?”
“That Victor would use me.”
A noise came from outside.
A car door.
Then another.
Daniel stood.
Lucas moved to the entrance.
The gray SUV rolled slowly into our row.
It stopped thirty feet away.
Two men got out.
One was the driver Robert had identified.
Colin Mercer.
The other carried something under his jacket.
Robert whispered, “Back door.”
Daniel looked around.
“There isn't one.”
Mercer walked toward us.
He smiled pleasantly.
“Mrs. Carter?”
Nobody answered.
He stopped ten feet away.
“You found the key.”
I closed my fist around it.
“How do you know?”
His smile widened.
“Because your father was much smarter than Robert.”
Robert stepped in front of me.
Mercer looked amused.
“Still pretending to be useful?”
Robert's hands clenched.
Mercer turned back to me.
“You have something Mr. Hale has wanted for six years.”
“The deed?”
“No.”
His eyes dropped to my fist.
“The key.”
I felt the brass teeth bite into my skin.
“What does it open?”
Mercer smiled again.
“If your father left instructions, I'm sure you'll find out.”
Behind him, his companion moved closer.
Daniel quietly reached for his phone.
Mercer noticed.
“I wouldn't.”
Daniel stopped.
Then another vehicle entered the lane.
A battered pickup.
It pulled directly between us and the gray SUV.
An elderly man climbed out.
Thin.
White beard.
Red cap.
He looked at Mercer.
Then at me.
Finally he reached into the truck and pulled out an old leather-bound book.
The cover was dark red.
My father's note flashed through my mind.
Trust the person who brings you the red book.
The old man raised it.
“Elena Carter?”
I stared.
“Yes.”
He looked toward Mercer.
“You picked a bad day to follow her.”
Then he turned back to me.
“My name is Gerald Mason.”
I knew that name.
My mother's retired accountant.
The man who supposedly only did her taxes.
He held out the red book.
“Your father told me I'd know it was time when Robert came back asking about the house.”
Click here to continue reading: PART 7: My Mother’s Quiet Accountant Opened the Red Book and Revealed Why Robert Had Been Chosen to Carry the Blame
The Man Who Abandoned Us Appeared at My Door and Asked for the One Thing I Never Expected
Part 6 of 24
