Chapter 2
I had spent nineteen years believing my father died on a wet highway outside Richmond.
Now I was crouched behind a diner booth with a terrified nine-year-old girl while a stranger told me the funeral had been a lie.
Nothing felt real.
"Stay down," I told Maya.
She nodded.
Her small hands clutched her backpack straps.
Marcus lowered the blinds.
DeShawn moved toward the kitchen.
Terry locked the side entrance.
Outside, two men from the black SUV approached the diner.
Neither hurried.
That worried me more.
People who were uncertain rushed.
People who believed they controlled the situation took their time.
Robert stood beside me.
"You need to get Maya out."
"You first."
"What?"
"Who are they?"
"I don't know their names."
"Then what do you know?"
He looked toward the approaching shadows.
"They work for a man named Victor Hale."
That name I knew.
Everyone in Richmond did.
Victor Hale owned construction companies, shipping warehouses, parking structures, and half the commercial property along the eastern industrial district.
He donated to hospitals.
Appeared beside mayors.
Sponsored youth programs.
"What does Victor Hale have to do with my father?"
Robert's mouth tightened.
"Everything."
The diner door rattled.
Locked.
One of the men knocked.
A waitress named Carla looked at me.
I shook my head.
She moved customers into the kitchen.
The man outside knocked again.
Then called through the glass.
"Robert."
Robert closed his eyes.
"They know I'm here."
"No kidding."
"Isaiah."
He grabbed my arm.
"If they come in, don't let them see Maya."
I pulled away.
"Why?"
"Because Victor thinks Lena still has the key."
I looked down at the brass key.
"And now I have it."
"Exactly."
The man outside raised his phone.
Robert's phone started ringing.
He stared at the screen.
"Answer it," I said.
"No."
"Answer it."
His hand shook slightly.
He pressed speaker.
A calm male voice came through.
"Robert."
Robert said nothing.
"You disappoint me."
I looked at him.
Robert's face had gone gray.
The voice continued.
"You were instructed to retrieve the girl quietly."
Maya heard that.
Her eyes widened.
I crouched beside her.
"It's okay."
The voice said, "Bring me Maya Carter and the key."
My anger snapped.
I took the phone from Robert.
"No."
Silence.
Then:
"Isaiah Brooks."
My skin prickled.
"You seem to know everybody."
Victor chuckled.
"I knew your father."
"So I'm hearing."
"He was difficult."
"What did you do to him?"
Another pause.
"Ask Lena."
"She's missing."
"I know."
The casual way he said it made my stomach turn.
"Where is she?"
"If I knew, we wouldn't be having this conversation."
I believed that more than I wanted to.
Victor continued.
"Give Robert the key and send the child outside."
"Not happening."
"You don't understand what you're holding."
"Then explain it."
"No."
"Then you get nothing."
His voice became colder.
"Your father made the same mistake."
"Trusting you?"
"Believing he could protect everyone."
My jaw clenched.
"I buried him."
"No."
Victor sounded almost amused.
"You buried a closed casket."
My breath caught.
He was right.
Dad's body had supposedly been too damaged from the crash.
The coffin stayed closed.
I had never seen him.
Never identified him.
I was twenty-nine and drowning in grief.
I trusted what I was told.
Victor said, "There are truths that destroy families, Isaiah."
"Funny. Lies seem pretty effective too."
He sighed.
"The key."
"No."
"Then whatever happens next belongs to you."
The call ended.
I looked at Robert.
"Start talking."
The men outside returned to the SUV.
They didn't leave.
Robert sat across from me.
Maya remained beside me.
I wanted to send her away before hearing any more.
She refused.
"This is about my mom."
I couldn't argue.
Robert rubbed both hands over his face.
"Your father worked for Victor."
"No."
"He did."
"My father repaired motorcycles."
"That was after."
I stared.
"After what?"
"He handled transportation for Hale Freight."
Victor's oldest company.
Robert continued.
"Samuel discovered Victor was using warehouse shipments to hide stolen goods."
"What kind?"
"Cars. Machinery. Electronics."
"Why didn't Dad go to police?"
"He planned to."
"Planned?"
Robert looked ashamed.
"I stopped him."
My chair scraped against the floor as I stood.
"What?"
"I was twenty-six."
He raised both hands.
"I had a wife. A baby. Victor knew where they lived."
"You helped him?"
"I begged Samuel to wait."
"Why?"
"Because Victor promised we'd be safe if Samuel stayed quiet."
I laughed bitterly.
"And Dad believed him?"
"No."
Of course he didn't.
Robert continued.
"Samuel started collecting evidence."
"The triangle?"
"A group of us used it."
"What group?"
"Employees who knew something was wrong."
"Lena?"
"Later."
I looked at Maya's mother in the old photograph.
"She would've been what? Twenty?"
"Twenty-two."
"How did she know Dad?"
"Samuel helped her."
"With what?"
Robert glanced at Maya.
I noticed.
"What aren't you saying?"
Maya spoke before him.
"Tell me."
Robert looked uncomfortable.
I almost told her she was too young.
Then I stopped myself.
Adults had already hidden enough from this child.
Robert chose his words carefully.
"Lena's father worked at one of Hale's warehouses."
Maya stared.
"My grandpa?"
"Yes."
"He died before I was born."
Robert nodded.
"Warehouse fire."
Maya looked at me.
Her fear deepened.
Robert continued.
"The fire destroyed records Samuel planned to give investigators."
"Accident?"
"No."
My stomach tightened.
"Who died?"
"Three men."
"And Lena's father."
"Yes."
Maya's eyes filled.
I touched her shoulder.
Robert looked at her.
"Your mother spent years trying to prove what happened."
"So did Dad."
"Yes."
"And the key?"
"Samuel created a backup."
I stared at the brass key.
"He stored copies somewhere."
"Union Station locker?"
Robert nodded.
"Not a regular locker."
"Then what?"
"A private baggage vault that existed before renovations. Samuel rented it under an old company name."
"Why hasn't anyone opened it?"
"Because nobody had both pieces."
I frowned.
"What pieces?"
"The key."
"And?"
"A number."
My patience thinned.
"What number?"
"I don't know."
"Who does?"
"Lena."
Maya suddenly reached into her backpack.
"My mom gave me something else."
Robert froze.
"What?"
She pulled out a folded children's drawing.
Crayon.
A house.
Three people.
A sun.
And numbers written along the bottom.
7 - 14 - 9 - 3.
Robert stood so fast he knocked his chair.
"Where did you get that?"
"Mom put it in my backpack."
I stared at the numbers.
"Code?"
Robert nodded.
"Probably."
Maya turned the paper over.
There were four words on the back.
Trust the road home.
I read them twice.
Something stirred in my memory.
My father used to say that.
Whenever we rode motorcycles together and I worried about getting lost.
Don't chase signs, son.
Trust the road home.
I looked at Robert.
"Union Station."
He nodded.
"We need to move before Victor understands she has the code."
I looked toward the SUV.
"How?"
Marcus joined us.
"Kitchen exit."
"Watched?"
"Probably."
"What about the delivery entrance?"
Carla leaned over the counter.
"Trash alley."
I looked at Maya.
"You trust me?"
She nodded instantly.
That hurt more than it should have.
She shouldn't have had to trust a stranger.
But right now, she didn't have anyone else.
I zipped the brass key into the inside pocket of my vest.
Marcus called the rest of our club.
Six bikers were fifteen minutes away.
I didn't have fifteen minutes.
We created noise at the front.
Marcus and Terry walked outside.
The men in the SUV focused on them.
DeShawn moved my bike behind the diner.
Robert drove a battered pickup parked near the kitchen.
"Whose truck?"
"The cook's."
"Does he know?"
"He does now."
Maya climbed into the back seat.
I hated taking a child into this.
I hated leaving her more.
We pulled out through the alley.
For three blocks, nobody followed.
Then Robert checked the mirror.
"Black SUV."
My chest tightened.
"They saw us."
I called Marcus.
"Delay them."
His voice came through the helmet headset.
"Gladly."
Two minutes later, motorcycles appeared behind the SUV.
My brothers boxed it between lanes.
No collision.
No fight.
Just enough traffic.
We gained distance.
Maya leaned forward from the back seat.
"Isaiah?"
"Yeah?"
"Did my mom know your dad?"
"Looks like it."
"Did you know her?"
I hesitated.
"Yes."
Robert looked at me.
That was one thing he apparently hadn't known.
Maya asked, "Were you friends?"
"Something like that."
Eleven years earlier, Lena and I had almost married.
Then one morning she was gone.
No note.
No call.
Nothing.
I spent years believing she chose another life.
Now I wondered whether she had been running from this.
Union Station came into view.
Robert parked two blocks away.
We entered through a side entrance.
The station had changed since I was young.
Coffee shops.
Digital signs.
Bright renovated halls.
But Robert led us downstairs.
Past employee corridors.
To an older baggage section.
A gray-haired attendant looked at the brass key.
His expression changed immediately.
"Where did you get that?"
"Family."
He studied me.
"Samuel's boy?"
My breath caught.
"You knew him?"
He nodded.
Then looked at Maya.
"And you're Lena's."
How many people knew secrets I didn't?
He unlocked a metal gate.
"Vault seven."
We followed.
Inside were numbered steel doors.
Seven.
Fourteen.
Nine.
Three.
Not one code.
A path.
We opened vault seven with the brass key.
Inside was another key.
Vault fourteen contained a handwritten card.
Nine next.
Three last.
The final door opened.
Inside sat a black metal case.
Robert whispered, "Samuel."
My hands shook as I lifted it.
No dust.
That bothered me.
Someone had been here recently.
I opened the case.
Inside were photographs.
Ledgers.
A cassette tape.
A sealed envelope addressed to me.
And one newer photograph.
Lena.
Taken three days ago.
Standing outside an abandoned warehouse.
On the back she had written:
Isaiah, if Maya gets this far, I failed to come back.
My breath stopped.
Underneath:
Do not trust Robert.
I slowly looked up.
May you like
Robert was standing behind me.
And he was holding a gun.
