Chapter 4
I wanted to call Denise a liar.
Instead, I stared at the photograph.
My mother stood outside what looked like a courthouse.
Victor Walker beside her.
They were not smiling.
They looked like people conducting business.
The date on the back was fourteen years earlier.
I would have been nine.
“Explain.”
Denise folded her arms.
“I don’t know everything.”
“You seem to know plenty.”
“I know Renee met Victor several times.”
“Why?”
“Marcus believed she was trying to negotiate.”
Arthur frowned.
“Negotiate what?”
“Protection.”
“For Malik?”
“For both of them.”
My stomach tightened.
“That doesn’t make her a traitor.”
“No.”
Denise looked at the photograph again.
“But then evidence started disappearing.”
“What evidence?”
“Copies Marcus had sent Renee.”
Arthur stared at her.
“You’re saying Marcus trusted Renee with classified files?”
“No. Copies of financial records.”
She pointed toward the storage trunks.
“Those.”
I looked at the folders.
“So Mom destroyed them?”
“Some.”
“Why?”
“Marcus believed Victor threatened you.”
That made sense.
Too much sense.
My anger weakened.
“If somebody threatened me, my mother would do anything.”
Denise nodded.
“I know.”
“Then why call her a betrayer?”
“Because Marcus didn’t know about the threat.”
I stared.
“She never told him.”
Denise’s voice softened.
“She made a deal.”
Arthur asked,
“What deal?”
“Victor promised to leave you alone if Renee stopped helping Marcus.”
I sat on the trunk.
For years, I believed my mother lied because my father abandoned us.
Then Arthur told me she lied because Marcus wanted me protected.
Now Denise was telling me my mother had made her own bargain.
Nothing in my childhood felt solid anymore.
“Did Dad hate her?”
Denise looked at me.
“No.”
That surprised me.
“He was furious.”
“But?”
“He understood why she did it.”
Arthur stepped forward.
“You said Marcus thought she betrayed him.”
“He did.”
“For how long?”
“Years.”
“And then?”
Denise looked toward the letter in my hand.
“Eventually he learned the truth.”
I reread one line.
If Denise comes to you, listen before you run.
“You helped him?”
Denise laughed bitterly.
“Eventually.”
“What happened between you?”
Her eyes hardened again.
“Something I regret.”
I waited.
“When Marcus separated from Renee, he was broken.”
She looked away.
“I was ambitious.”
Arthur snorted.
“That’s one word.”
Denise ignored him.
“I worked for Victor.”
“Your brother.”
“Yes.”
“Did he tell you to get close to my father?”
Silence.
That was answer enough.
I stood.
“You seduced him for information.”
Her face tightened.
“Yes.”
Arthur cursed.
My stomach turned.
“And you expect me to trust you?”
“No.”
That answer stopped me.
Denise continued.
“You shouldn’t trust me automatically.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because somebody is watching this unit.”
She held up the recent photograph.
“And whoever took this picture knows I went to the federal building six weeks ago.”
“What were you doing there?”
“Talking to investigators.”
Arthur raised an eyebrow.
“About Victor?”
“Yes.”
My heart pounded.
“You’re turning on your brother?”
“I turned on him twelve years ago.”
“Why?”
She looked at me.
“Because your father made me understand what Victor really was.”
She walked toward the wall.
“Marcus discovered Victor had not only profited from stolen military contracts.”
Her voice lowered.
“He had arranged Peter’s death.”
Arthur went still.
“And Calvin?”
Denise nodded.
Arthur’s face collapsed.
He leaned against the table.
For decades, those deaths had probably sat inside him like stones.
Denise continued.
“Marcus confronted me.”
“When?”
“Twenty-two years ago.”
I calculated.
I had been a baby.
“He told me Victor was killing people.”
“Did you believe him?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Victor was my brother.”
Her voice broke slightly.
“He paid for my college.”
She looked ashamed.
“He raised me after our father died.”
“Then what changed?”
“I saw a payment.”
“What payment?”
“To the man who sabotaged Peter’s car.”
Arthur turned away.
Denise swallowed.
“I confronted Victor.”
“What did he say?”
“He said Peter had become a liability.”
My stomach twisted.
“So you helped my father after that.”
“I tried.”
“Then why did Dad write DON’T TRUST DENISE?”
Her face tightened.
“Because twelve years ago, I lied again.”
“About what?”
She looked toward the locked metal box inside the unit.
“That.”
I followed her gaze.
The box was small.
Black.
Heavy.
I picked it up.
“What’s inside?”
“I don’t know.”
Arthur laughed.
“Convenient.”
Denise shot him a look.
“I’m serious.”
“Then why did you lie?”
“Because Marcus told me the box contained enough evidence to destroy Victor.”
I stared.
“And?”
“I told Marcus I could get it to federal investigators.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No.”
“What did you do?”
“I hid it from him.”
The room went silent.
I stepped toward her.
“Why?”
Her eyes filled with something close to shame.
“Victor had my daughter.”
My anger stopped.
“You have a daughter?”
“Had.”
That word landed heavily.
“Her name was Simone.”
Denise looked away.
“She was sixteen.”
Arthur’s face softened despite himself.
“Victor threatened her?”
“He didn’t threaten.”
Denise’s voice became hollow.
“He took her.”
I stared.
“My own brother took my child because he knew I was helping Marcus.”
My chest tightened.
“What happened?”
“I gave Victor the location Marcus had provided.”
Arthur cursed.
“You betrayed him.”
“Yes.”
“Did Victor find Marcus?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I gave him the wrong location.”
Arthur stared.
Denise continued.
“I betrayed both men.”
“To save your daughter.”
“Yes.”
“What happened to Simone?”
Denise closed her eyes.
“Victor returned her.”
Relief came too early.
“Two years later, she died in a car crash.”
Arthur’s face changed.
“Accident?”
Denise looked at him.
“No.”
Silence.
My stomach turned.
“Victor killed his own niece?”
“I can’t prove it.”
“But you believe it.”
“Yes.”
For the first time, Denise looked less like a secretive wealthy woman and more like a mother who had survived something impossible.
I hated myself for feeling sympathy.
Then Arthur pointed toward the box.
“So why is that still here?”
Denise looked confused.
“I don’t know.”
“Marcus told you it was evidence.”
“Yes.”
“He disappeared.”
“Yes.”
“You thought Victor wanted it.”
“Yes.”
“So why didn’t anybody take it?”
Denise stared at the box.
That question changed the room.
I examined the lock.
No key.
Arthur searched the trunks.
Nothing.
Then I noticed the brass key from the envelope had a second, smaller tooth along its edge.
I tried it.
Click.
The box opened.
Inside were three things.
A digital recorder.
A flash drive.
And one photograph.
I picked up the photograph.
My breath stopped.
It showed my father.
Older.
Gray at the temples.
Standing beside my mother.
The date was eight years ago.
Eight.
My mother had told me for twenty years that she never saw him.
My hands shook.
“They were together.”
Denise leaned over.
Her face went white.
“I’ve never seen this.”
Arthur whispered,
“Renee knew where he was.”
I flipped the photograph.
One sentence.
IF MALIK FINDS THIS, TELL HIM WE BOTH CHOSE SILENCE.
I could barely breathe.
“Both.”
My mother and father had seen each other.
They had made choices together.
Denise reached for the recorder.
I pulled it away.
“No.”
“It may explain—”
“I’m listening first.”
I pressed play.
Static.
Then my father’s voice.
Older.
Tired.
“Malik, if this reaches you, then Renee is probably gone.”
My chest tightened.
He knew.
He knew my mother might die before I learned anything.
The recording continued.
“I need you to understand something.”
I closed my eyes.
“I stayed away because I thought distance would keep you safe.”
A pause.
“I was wrong.”
My throat tightened.
“The people who hunted me stopped caring about me years ago.”
Then his voice changed.
“They care about what I know.”
A breath.
“And one of them has been inside your life since you were a child.”
Arthur and I exchanged looks.
Denise whispered,
“Who?”
My father answered from the recorder.
“Malik, the person you need to fear is not Denise.”
My pulse exploded.
“It is the man who has been calling himself your uncle.”
The recorder clicked off.
I stared into space.
I had only one uncle.
My mother’s older brother.
Darius Coleman.
The man who coached my Little League team.
Paid part of my college tuition.
May you like
Sat beside me at my mother’s funeral.
And hugged me while I cried.
