CHAPTER 3 — THE SAFE BEHIND THE WALL
I had never seen my mother look afraid like that.
Not when my father died.
Not when our family nearly lost the old house.
Not even when I told her I was marrying Amy.
But now she was trembling.
Her eyes were fixed on the house as if she expected someone to come crashing through the walls.
“The safe,” she repeated.
I stepped toward her.
“What safe?”
She didn't answer.
“Mom.”
Nothing.
“WHERE IS IT?”
She flinched.
The officer beside me raised a hand.
“Sir, calm down.”
I took a breath.
Then another.
But my eyes remained locked on my mother.
“You told me my father left a trust.”
She nodded.
“You said there was money.”
Another nod.
“You said someone was coming for it.”
She looked toward the road.
“Yes.”
“And now you're telling me there's a safe in my house.”
She swallowed.
“Yes.”
“What is inside?”
Her lips trembled.
“I don't know.”
I almost laughed.
“You don't know?”
“I know what your father told me.”
“Then tell me.”
She looked at the police officers.
Then at Mason.
Then at Amy.
Finally, she whispered,
“Your father told me never to open it.”
That made no sense.
“My father died twelve years ago.”
“I know.”
“You've had twelve years.”
“I never had the combination.”
“Then how do you know what's inside?”
She looked at me.
“Because your father left instructions.”
“What instructions?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“He said when you turned thirty…”
She stopped.
“Mom.”
“When you turned thirty, I was supposed to give you a letter.”
I felt my stomach tighten.
“What letter?”
She shook her head.
“I destroyed it.”
I stared at her.
“You destroyed a letter from my father?”
“I had to.”
“Why?”
“Because the people who wanted what was inside would have killed you.”
The officer exchanged a look with his partner.
I stepped closer.
“Who are these people?”
My mother looked toward the road again.
“I don't know their names.”
“That's impossible.”
“I only knew one man.”
“Who?”
She hesitated.
“Victor.”
The name meant nothing to me.
“Victor who?”
“I don't know his last name.”
Mason suddenly spoke.
“I do.”
Everyone turned.
My cousin looked terrified.
“His name is Victor Hale.”
My mother stared at him.
“How do you know that name?”
Mason swallowed.
“Because he contacted me.”
My mother's face went blank.
“When?”
“Three months ago.”
I stepped toward Mason.
“What did he want?”
“You.”
My heart pounded.
“Me?”
Mason nodded.
“He wanted to know whether you had discovered the trust.”
“And what did you tell him?”
“Nothing.”
My mother suddenly shouted,
“You told him!”
Mason shook his head.
“I didn't!”
“You gave him information!”
“I didn't!”
The two started arguing.
I raised my voice.
“ENOUGH!”
Silence.
I looked at Mason.
“Tell me exactly what happened.”
He took a deep breath.
“Victor approached me outside my work.”
“What did he say?”
“He said Teresa owed him.”
My mother closed her eyes.
Mason continued.
“He said she had taken something that belonged to his family.”
I looked at my mother.
“What did you take?”
She didn't answer.
“Mom.”
Still nothing.
Then Mason said,
“He said your father stole it.”
The words hit the room like a gunshot.
“My father?”
Mason nodded.
“Victor said your father had stolen millions from a group of investors.”
I shook my head.
“That isn't possible.”
Mason looked at me.
“He had documents.”
“What documents?”
“Bank transfers. Contracts. Photographs.”
My mother suddenly whispered,
“Your father wasn't the man you thought he was.”
I stared at her.
My father had always been my hero.
He had worked long hours.
He had taught me how to build things.
How to repair engines.
How to keep my word.
When he died, I had believed he left behind nothing except memories.
Now my mother was telling me everything I knew might have been a lie.
“Where is the safe?”
She looked toward the living room.
“Behind the fireplace.”
I turned.
There was a large stone fireplace in the corner.
It had been there since I bought the house.
I had never questioned it.
My mother whispered,
“Your father installed it before he died.”
I walked over.
The officers followed.
I examined the stonework.
Nothing.
Then Mason said,
“Third brick from the bottom.”
I counted.
One.
Two.
Three.
I pressed it.
Nothing happened.
I pressed harder.
A click echoed inside the wall.
The entire brick shifted.
Behind it was a small metal keypad.
My heart raced.
I stared at my mother.
“You said you didn't know the combination.”
“I don't.”
“Then how do we open it?”
She looked at me.
“You're the combination.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“Your birthday.”
I entered the numbers.
Nothing.
“Your father's birthday.”
I tried.
Nothing.
“Your mother's birthday.”
Nothing.
Then I remembered something.
A number my father used to repeat whenever we worked together.
He called it our lucky number.
I entered it.
The keypad beeped.
A green light appeared.
The wall clicked.
Then slowly moved inward.
Behind it was a steel safe.
My hands were shaking.
The officers stood behind me.
I reached for the handle.
Then stopped.
“What if this is a trap?”
My mother whispered,
“It is.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
She nodded.
“Your father didn't build that safe to keep people out.”
“Then why?”
“To keep something in.”
My skin prickled.
I pulled the door open.
Inside was a black metal box.
Three folders.
A small USB drive.
And an old photograph.
I picked up the photograph.
My father stood in front of a building.
Beside him were three men.
One of them looked strangely familiar.
I stared at his face.
Then looked at my mother.
“Who is that?”
She didn't answer.
I pointed.
“This man.”
Her eyes filled with terror.
“That is Victor Hale.”
I looked back at the photograph.
Victor was standing beside my father.
They weren't enemies.
They were smiling.
My mind raced.
“If Victor knew my father…”
“He did,” my mother whispered.
“Then why does he want the money?”
“He doesn't.”
I turned.
“What does he want?”
My mother stared at the black metal box.
“That.”
I opened the first folder.
Inside were dozens of contracts.
The second folder contained photographs.
The third contained bank records.
I picked up the USB drive.
“What is on this?”
My mother shook her head.
“I don't know.”
Then Mason spoke.
“I do.”
Everyone turned.
He pointed at the USB.
“Victor told me that drive contains the names.”
“The names of who?”
Mason looked at me.
“Everyone involved.”
“Involved in what?”
He didn't answer.
I opened the third folder.
The first page was a handwritten note.
I recognized the handwriting immediately.
My father's.
My hands trembled as I read it.
Connor, if you're reading this, your mother failed to protect you.
I stopped breathing.
Amy stepped closer.
“What does it say?”
I continued.
The money was never the real inheritance.
My eyes moved to the next line.
The real inheritance is the evidence.
Then the final sentence.
Trust no one who tells you your father died naturally.
I froze.
My father had been told he died of a heart attack.
Everyone had accepted it.
I looked at my mother.
She was crying.
“You knew?”
She couldn't speak.
“You knew my father didn't die naturally?”
She covered her face.
And then the lights went out.
Every light in the house.
The police reached for their weapons.
Amy screamed.
Frederick began crying.
A second later, the front window shattered.
Something flew into the room.
A small black object rolled across the floor.
The officer shouted,
“DOWN!”
I grabbed Amy and pulled her behind the sofa.
A deafening bang shook the house.
Smoke filled the room.
People screamed.
When the air cleared, the safe was still open.
But the black metal box was gone.
Someone had entered the house.
Someone had known exactly what was inside.
And they had taken only one thing.
The evidence.
I looked toward the broken window.
A shadow disappeared into the darkness outside.
Then my phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
One message.
YOU SHOULD HAVE LEFT THE SAFE CLOSED.
May you like
A second message appeared immediately.
NEXT TIME, WE TAKE YOUR SON.
