Chapter 3 - The First VictimThe dead man had a name. Richard Kane had spent twelve years erasing it.
Melissa dragged me through the alley until we reached a narrow side street.
We didn't stop until we were three blocks away.
She leaned against a brick wall, breathing hard.
I stared at her.
“Start talking.”
Melissa wiped rain from her face.
“Thomas knew this day would come.”
“Thomas is dead.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“I watched you identify his body.”
Her eyes hardened.
“That wasn't Thomas.”
The world seemed to tilt.
“What?”
“They showed me a body with severe burns. They said it was Thomas because his wallet was found nearby.”
“Why did you identify him?”
“Because Richard told me to.”
I stared.
Melissa looked ashamed.
“I was afraid.”
She reached into her coat and handed me a folded photograph.
“This is the real Thomas.”
It showed him standing beside an older man.
The older man's name was written underneath.
EDWARD VOSS.
I knew the name.
Every accountant in the region did.
Edward Voss had been Kane Automotive's original financial controller.
He had vanished twelve years earlier.
Officially, he had fled after being accused of embezzling $11 million.
But there had never been enough evidence to charge him.
His wife claimed he disappeared after receiving threats.
Then she died in a car accident.
His children moved away.
The story faded.
Until now.
Melissa pointed at Edward.
“The BMW was his.”
I looked at her.
“The auction car?”
“Yes.”
“What happened to him?”
“Richard killed him.”
The words landed with terrifying simplicity.
Melissa told me the story.
Twelve years ago, Edward discovered Richard was using dealership money to fund an illegal network of shell companies.
He confronted Richard.
Richard offered him a settlement.
Edward refused.
Three days later, Edward disappeared.
The BMW was registered to him.
It was eventually abandoned.
Years later, it entered an insurance seizure program.
Then a private impound lot.
Then the county auction.
Until I bought it.
“So why fifty dollars?” I asked.
Melissa looked at me.
“Because someone wanted the BMW gone.”
My stomach tightened.
“Thomas found it?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Thomas discovered that Edward had hidden evidence inside it.”
I remembered Thomas's video.
Driver's side door.
“What evidence?”
Melissa shook her head.
“I don't know.”
“You expect me to believe you?”
“No.”
She stepped closer.
“I expect you to understand that you're standing in the middle of something that nearly killed my husband.”
“Nearly?”
She stopped.
Then whispered:
“Thomas is alive.”
My heart slammed against my ribs.
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
“But you just said—”
“He disappeared from the people who were guarding him.”
“Who?”
“People who were supposed to be protecting him.”
I stared at her.
“How can I trust you?”
“You can't.”
She reached into her pocket.
“That's why I brought this.”
She handed me a small key.
A brass key.
Stamped with the number 17.
“What is it?”
“Storage unit.”
“Where?”
“Northside.”
“Whose?”
“Edward Voss.”
I looked up.
“Edward died twelve years ago.”
Melissa shook her head.
“No.”
She stepped away.
“That's what Richard wanted everyone to believe.”
Before I could respond, my phone buzzed.
A bank alert.
Someone had deposited $25,000 into my account.
Sender:
RICHARD KANE.
I looked at Melissa.
“He sent me money.”
“No.”
She looked at the screen.
“He sent you a message.”
The deposit description read:
RETURN THE BMW.
I felt anger replacing fear.
I typed a response.
YOU'RE GOING TO HAVE TO DO BETTER THAN THAT.
Three seconds later, my phone rang.
Richard Kane.
I answered.
His voice was calm.
“I knew you would answer.”
“You shot at me.”
“I did no such thing.”
“Then your people did.”
“My people don't act without permission.”
I glanced at Melissa.
Richard continued.
“You have something that belongs to me.”
“Five hundred thousand dollars?”
“No.”
“The flash drive?”
“No.”
“The BMW?”
“No.”
I said nothing.
Richard's voice dropped.
“You have something you haven't found yet.”
My pulse quickened.
“What?”
“You tell me.”
The call ended.
Melissa looked at me.
“He's scared.”
“Why?”
“Because Richard doesn't negotiate unless he's losing.”
We went to the storage facility.
Unit 17 was untouched.
Inside were dusty boxes, financial files, photographs, and one wooden desk.
On top of the desk sat a single envelope.
My name was written on it.
Evan Mercer.
I opened it.
Inside was a handwritten letter.
Edward Voss had written it twelve years earlier.
The first sentence read:
“If you found this, then Richard Kane has finally lost control of the one thing he fears.”
I unfolded the second page.
At the bottom was a photograph.
The photograph showed Richard Kane, younger and smiling.
Beside him stood Edward Voss.
And behind them was a little boy.
About eight years old.
I stared at the boy.
Then at Melissa.
“Who is he?”
Melissa's face went white.
She whispered:
“Derek.”
I looked again.
Derek Kane was in the photograph.
But there was something strange.
On the back, Edward had written:
“Richard's son is not Richard's son.”
Before I could ask what it meant, the storage unit lights went out.
The door slammed shut.
A man's voice came from the darkness.
“Evan, put the letter down.”
A gun clicked.
Melissa whispered:
“Don't move.”
Then a second voice came from behind us.
“You're both too late.”
The lights came back on.
May you like
Thomas Bell was standing in the doorway.
And he was holding a gun.
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