Chapter 5 - The PhotographAlex didn't sleep that night.
He sat in the dark of his kitchen with the photograph on the table.
His father's face stared back at him.
Thomas Warren.
Former railway investigator.
Retired twelve years before his death.
The official story had always been simple.
Heart attack.
Home.
Peaceful.
Alex had never questioned it.
Until now.
At 2:13 a.m., his phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
“Hello?”
Nothing.
Then breathing.
Slow.
Controlled.
A man's voice whispered:
“Your father lied to you.”
Alex stood.
“Who is this?”
“You've spent your whole life thinking he was the good man.”
Alex's jaw tightened.
“What do you want?”
“The same thing your father wanted.”
“What?”
“To keep the door closed.”
The call ended.
Alex stared at the phone.
Jet was lying near the hallway.
Suddenly the dog stood.
His ears lifted.
A low growl filled the house.
Alex reached for his gun.
The front porch light went out.
Then the back door slammed.
Alex ran.
Nobody was there.
But on the kitchen table sat a new photograph.
He hadn't left it there.
It showed Thomas Warren standing beside a railroad crossing.
Beside him was Claire Cross.
And between them was a little girl.
Eva.
Alex flipped the photograph over.
A handwritten note:
ASK YOUR FATHER ABOUT PLATFORM 9.
Alex searched his father's old records.
He found nothing.
Then he remembered something.
His father's storage unit.
He drove there before sunrise.
Jet was in the passenger seat.
The storage unit was locked.
Alex had the key.
Inside were boxes stacked to the ceiling.
Railroad files.
Photographs.
Maps.
And one wooden trunk.
He opened it.
Inside were dozens of police reports.
All involving missing children.
Many had been closed.
Some were officially ruled runaways.
But every file contained the same symbol.
A black circle.
Alex opened one.
The victim was a nine-year-old girl named Emily Cross.
Claire's sister.
Another file.
A seven-year-old boy.
Another.
A six-year-old boy.
All vanished near railway corridors.
Alex stopped breathing.
The railroad wasn't a coincidence.
It was the pattern.
Jet barked.
He was staring at a hidden compartment beneath the trunk.
Alex pried it open.
Inside was a cassette recorder.
And a handwritten label.
PLATFORM 9. FINAL RECORDING.
Alex pressed play.
Static.
Then his father's voice.
“If you're hearing this, I'm already dead.”
Alex leaned closer.
“I discovered who was moving the children.”
Static again.
“I thought the railroad company was involved.”
Alex's heart pounded.
“They weren't.”
Pause.
“They were using the railroad.”
A long silence.
“And the person giving them access…”
A woman's voice suddenly whispered in the background.
Claire.
Alex could barely breathe.
His father continued.
“I couldn't stop her.”
The recording crackled.
Then the voice said:
“Her name is Megan Hale.”
Alex dropped the recorder.
Megan.
The woman whose baby he'd saved.
The woman he'd been protecting.
Jet suddenly barked at the storage unit door.
Alex looked up.
Someone was standing outside.
A woman's silhouette.
Blue scarf.
Alex opened the door.
Nobody.
Only a note taped to it.
YOU STILL THINK SHE IS THE VICTIM?
Alex looked down.
May you like
A second line had been added.
ASK HER WHO THE BABY'S FATHER REALLY IS.
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