Chapter 4 - THE PHOTOGRAPHJames couldn't sleep.
The photograph Connor described would not leave his mind.
At 2:13 in the morning, James searched every box he had from his father's estate.
Old receipts.
Business contracts.
Photographs.
A leather notebook.
Nothing.
Then he found a photograph.
His father standing beside a woman.
Elena.
James recognized her immediately.
She was younger than the photographs Connor remembered.
Beside her stood a little boy.
Not Connor.
James turned the picture over.
Written on the back:
For when the truth needs a witness.
James stared at the handwriting.
His father's.
He called Tommy.
No answer.
He called the hospital.
Tommy had vanished.
The nurse said he had left against medical advice forty minutes earlier.
James knew immediately.
Someone had found him.
He grabbed his keys.
Elliot appeared at the hallway.
"Dad?"
"Go back to bed."
"You're going somewhere."
James sighed.
"I need to find your friend's uncle."
"I can help."
"No."
Elliot looked at him.
"You always say I can help until something gets scary."
James stopped.
"You are nine."
"So is Connor."
James couldn't answer that.
An hour later, James reached the rail yard.
A storm had rolled over Austin.
Rain struck the empty tracks.
Building 14 was dark.
The police had gone.
James entered through a side opening.
He found blood beside the broken crates.
Then footprints.
Two sets.
One heading toward the red door.
One heading away.
James followed them.
The chain on the red door had been cut.
He opened it.
Inside was a narrow room.
Empty shelves.
Dust.
And one metal locker.
Locker 717.
James stared at the number.
7-17.
His father's note.
He opened the locker.
Inside was a small cassette recorder, an old key, and a child's drawing.
The drawing showed a train.
A red door.
A black car.
And four people.
A woman.
A little boy.
A man in blue.
And a fourth figure whose face had been scratched away.
James pressed the cassette recorder.
Static.
Then Elena's voice.
"If you're hearing this, I failed."
James froze.
Her voice trembled.
"I don't know who I can trust anymore."
A pause.
"Northstar isn't stealing money."
James leaned closer.
"They are stealing identities."
The recording continued.
"They use dead people, missing people, abandoned properties. They create fake ownership records and move everything through the rail yard."
James's eyes widened.
Then Elena whispered:
"The names aren't the real secret."
Static.
"The real secret is who is paying them."
A metallic sound interrupted the recording.
Elena gasped.
"They found me."
The tape ended.
James stood motionless.
Then he heard a noise behind him.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Heavy.
He turned.
A figure stood in the doorway.
Blue jacket.
Silver watch.
James's heart slammed against his ribs.
The figure stepped into the light.
It was not a stranger.
James knew him.
He had known him since childhood.
His father's closest friend.
The man who had stood beside James at his father's funeral.
Charles Mercer.
His uncle.
May you like
Charles smiled sadly.
"You should never have opened that locker."
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