Chapter 3
"Step away from the case."
Robert's voice sounded different.
Flat.
Cold.
Maya gasped.
I moved between her and the gun.
Robert shook his head.
"Don't make this harder."
I stared at him.
"You spent an hour telling me Victor Hale was the enemy."
"He is."
"And you're pointing a gun at a child."
"I'm pointing it at you."
"Big improvement."
His jaw tightened.
"Give me the case."
"No."
"Isaiah."
"You want it?"
I pushed Maya farther behind me.
"Tell me why Lena wrote not to trust you."
His eyes flickered.
"You read the note."
"Obviously."
Robert cursed.
I kept him talking.
The station hallway was narrow.
Security cameras somewhere above us.
Help might come.
Or Victor's men.
Neither option felt good.
Robert said, "Lena doesn't know everything."
"Seems like everybody says that."
"I protected her for seventeen years."
"By following her daughter?"
"I was trying to reach Maya before Victor."
"Why?"
"Because she had the key."
"Same reason Victor wanted her."
He didn't answer.
That told me enough.
"What is in this case that you're scared of?"
"Evidence."
"Against Victor?"
"Against everyone."
"Who is everyone?"
Robert's hand tightened around the gun.
"Samuel wasn't innocent."
My stomach twisted.
"Careful."
"You want the truth?"
"That's why I'm here."
Robert laughed bitterly.
"Your father helped build Hale's operation."
"No."
"Yes."
Maya pressed against my back.
Robert continued.
"Samuel designed the shipment system."
"He didn't know what it was used for."
"He knew eventually."
"Eventually?"
Robert nodded.
"He discovered Victor had moved from legitimate freight into stolen inventory."
"And Dad tried to stop him."
"After years of making money."
The accusation hit me.
I wanted to reject it.
But I'd learned too much already.
"What does that have to do with you?"
Robert's eyes hardened.
"Your father blamed me."
"For what?"
"The warehouse fire."
I stared.
"Lena's father died."
"Yes."
"Did you start it?"
"No."
"Did Victor?"
Robert looked away.
I understood.
"You helped."
"I gave Victor the schedule."
Maya made a small sound behind me.
Robert swallowed.
"I didn't know he would burn the place."
"That excuse seems popular."
"I thought he was going to remove records."
"You gave him access."
"Yes."
"And four people died."
"Three."
"Lena lost her father."
His face twisted.
"I know."
I looked at the gun.
"So this isn't about hiding Victor's crimes."
"It's about hiding yours."
Robert's eyes filled.
"You think I haven't lived with it?"
"Apparently not enough to stop doing the same thing."
He raised the gun slightly.
"Give me the case."
"No."
"Isaiah."
"Kill me and you still have Maya."
His eyes shifted toward her.
That was his mistake.
I moved.
Fast.
I slammed my forearm into his wrist.
The gun fired.
The shot hit the ceiling.
Maya screamed.
I drove Robert into the steel vault wall.
The gun fell.
I kicked it away.
Robert punched me once.
Hard.
I barely felt it.
I grabbed his jacket and shoved him down.
A station alarm exploded around us.
"Run!" I shouted.
Maya grabbed the black case.
She was stronger than she looked.
We ran.
Robert shouted behind us.
"Isaiah!"
I turned once.
He wasn't chasing.
He was grabbing the gun.
Bad.
We reached the main concourse as security officers rushed toward the sound.
I pushed Maya toward them.
"Police!"
Then I stopped.
A familiar black SUV pulled outside the station.
Victor's men.
Perfect.
Security surrounded us.
I raised both hands.
"My name is Isaiah Brooks. A man downstairs fired a gun."
Maya shouted, "He tried to take me!"
That changed everything.
Security moved fast.
Police arrived minutes later.
Robert was arrested in the basement.
The gun was recovered.
Victor's men disappeared.
For the first time all day, Maya and I sat somewhere relatively safe.
A small station office.
The black case sat on a desk.
A detective wanted to take it.
I refused until I had photographed every page.
Maybe paranoia.
Maybe survival.
Then I opened the envelope addressed to me.
My hands shook.
Isaiah,
If you're reading this, then I failed twice.
Once as your father.
Once as a man trying to correct what I helped create.
I stopped.
Maya sat across from me.
Quiet.
Watching.
I continued.
Victor Hale and I built Hale Freight together.
That hit me.
My father hadn't worked for Victor.
He had been his partner.
The company operated legally at first.
Then Victor began moving stolen goods through our routes.
I learned too late.
I participated longer than I should have because I was afraid losing the company would destroy everything I had built.
Shame kept me silent.
I understood that kind of weakness.
Not because I had committed crimes.
Because I knew how pride could trap a man.
Dad continued.
Robert discovered what Victor was doing before I did.
He wanted money to stay silent.
I paid him once.
That was my first unforgivable mistake.
My stomach dropped.
Dad had paid Robert.
Then:
Lena's father, Calvin Carter, discovered our records. He planned to expose us.
Victor ordered the warehouse cleared.
Robert provided access.
The fire was never supposed to kill anyone.
But men died.
Including Calvin.
Maya started crying quietly.
I stopped reading.
"I'm sorry."
She wiped her face.
"Keep going."
I hated that she needed answers.
But she deserved them.
After the fire, I went to federal investigators.
Victor learned what I had done.
He threatened you.
Your mother.
Everyone I loved.
So I agreed to disappear.
My heart stopped.
Dad disappeared to protect us.
The motorcycle crash was staged with federal assistance while investigators built a case.
I stared at the paper.
Federal assistance?
Then why had Victor never been arrested?
The answer came next.
The case collapsed.
A federal agent was corrupt.
Evidence disappeared.
Victor survived.
I remained dead because returning would expose you.
My eyes burned.
Nineteen years.
My father had lived somewhere.
Away from me.
Because he thought it kept me safe.
Then the letter changed.
Lena found me two years later.
I looked at Maya.
"Your mom found him."
"Where?"
I kept reading.
She refused to let Calvin's death remain unanswered.
She became the bravest person I knew.
We worked together gathering new evidence.
Robert eventually found us.
He offered information in exchange for protection.
I believed him.
That was my second failure.
Robert betrayed our location.
Victor came.
I was shot.
My breath stopped.
Maya whispered, "Did he die?"
I continued.
If this letter reaches you, then I probably did not survive what came next.
I swallowed hard.
The photograph dated seventeen years ago had been taken shortly before his real death.
I hadn't been cheated out of nineteen years.
I had been cheated out of two.
Somehow, that hurt just as much.
Dad's final paragraph read:
Do not let anger make you another version of us.
Protect Maya.
Trust Lena.
And know this:
I loved you every day I was gone.
I folded the letter.
For a moment, I couldn't move.
Maya reached across the desk.
She put her small hand over mine.
"I'm sorry about your dad."
I looked at her.
This child had lost her mother yesterday.
And she was comforting me.
"Thanks, kid."
The detective entered.
"We need to talk."
"About Robert?"
"Yes."
He closed the door.
"He's asking for protective custody."
I almost laughed.
"From who?"
"Victor Hale."
"Convenient."
"He says Hale knows the station vault was opened."
"How?"
The detective looked at Robert's phone records.
"Someone sent him a photograph."
My chest tightened.
"What photograph?"
"Of you and Maya entering Union Station."
Victor had eyes everywhere.
The detective continued.
"Robert says the evidence in that case isn't complete."
"What's missing?"
"A ledger."
"What ledger?"
"The one that proves Hale ordered the warehouse fire."
"Where is it?"
"Robert says Lena has it."
Maya sat up.
"My mom?"
The detective nodded.
"Apparently that's why she disappeared."
"Where did she go?"
"He doesn't know."
I didn't believe Robert.
Then Maya reached into her backpack again.
She pulled out a small folded map.
"I forgot this."
I stared at her.
"What else is in that backpack?"
She shrugged.
"My mom packed it."
The map was old.
A road map of Virginia.
One place was circled.
Blue Ridge.
Beside it were three handwritten words.
Road home. Cabin 12.
My heart stopped.
My father had owned a cabin near Blue Ridge when I was a kid.
Number twelve.
We sold it after his supposed death.
Or I thought we did.
Maya whispered, "Is that where Mom is?"
I didn't know.
But I knew one thing.
Lena had sent her daughter to me because she believed I could finish what she started.
I stood.
The detective blocked the door.
"You're not going anywhere."
"Then you come with us."
"Mr. Brooks—"
"A missing woman may be at that cabin."
He studied me.
Then nodded.
"We verify first."
Within twenty minutes, state police were checking property records.
The cabin still existed.
Different owner on paper.
A shell company.
Triangle Holdings.
My father's symbol.
The detective looked at me.
"We're sending units."
Maya grabbed my hand.
"I'm going."
"No."
Her face hardened.
"My mom is there."
"Which is why you're staying somewhere safe."
"Where?"
I had no answer.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
Silence.
Then a woman's voice.
Weak.
Breathing hard.
"Isaiah?"
Everything inside me stopped.
"Lena?"
Maya jumped up.
"Mom!"
Lena started crying.
"Maya's with you?"
"She's safe."
"Oh, thank God."
"Where are you?"
Her breathing became ragged.
"Cabin twelve."
I looked at the detective.
He was already signaling officers.
"Lena, stay on the line."
"I can't."
"Why?"
"They're coming."
My blood went cold.
"Who?"
She whispered one name.
May you like
"Victor."
Then the line went dead.
