Chapter 13 - UNIT 117
The storage unit was in Pennsylvania.
Two hours outside Pittsburgh.
Agent Bell obtained a warrant.
I was told repeatedly that I did not need to be there.
I went anyway.
Unit 117 smelled like dust and old paper.
Boxes lined the walls.
A metal desk sat in the center.
There was a child’s bicycle.
A faded yellow blanket.
A wooden rocking horse.
I stopped breathing.
“I know that.”
Agent Bell turned.
“What?”
“The horse.”
I walked toward it.
One ear was chipped.
A blue star was painted on the saddle.
A memory flashed.
Not clear.
A room.
Rain against a window.
A boy laughing.
Simon?
I touched the wood.
My hand trembled.
“I played with this.”
Daniel stood beside me.
“You remember?”
“Not exactly.”
We opened boxes.
Most contained records from Marlowe Asset Strategies.
Then we found personal items.
Photographs.
Children’s drawings.
One had my name on it.
RACHEL.
Another had SIMON.
We had drawn the same house.
A red roof.
Three windows.
A giant tree.
Agent Bell photographed both.
Then I found an old cassette tape.
Label: RACHEL - JULY 1999.
The storage facility manager found us a player.
The tape crackled.
My mother’s voice came first.
“You can’t involve her.”
Then Patricia.
“I’m trying to protect her.”
Then a man.
My grandfather.
Thomas Mercer.
“She already knows too much.”
My six-year-old voice came faintly from somewhere.
“Grandpa?”
My breath caught.
Thomas continued.
“Rachel, go upstairs.”
“I want my book.”
“Go upstairs.”
The tape shifted.
Footsteps.
A door.
Then adults arguing.
Evelyn’s voice.
“You cannot move that money.”
Thomas answered.
“I already did.”
Patricia gasped.
“Where?”
“You don’t need to know.”
“Thomas.”
“If Voss finds out, we are all finished.”
Leonard.
Even then.
Evelyn lowered her voice.
“Rachel heard you.”
“No, she didn’t.”
“She was standing in the hallway.”
My mother started crying.
“Stop talking about my daughter.”
Thomas said something muffled.
Then clearly.
“She saw the ledger.”
The tape stopped.
I stared at the machine.
The ledger.
My mind flashed again.
Green leather.
Gold corners.
Numbers.
A man closing a drawer.
A younger Leonard?
Maybe.
I pressed my hands to my temples.
Daniel crouched.
“Don’t force it.”
“I remember something.”
“What?”
“A book.”
“Green?”
“Yes.”
Agent Bell searched the boxes.
We found no ledger.
But we found photographs.
One showed my grandfather at a desk.
A green ledger sat open beside him.
On the page was a symbol.
Three interlocking circles.
My stomach twisted.
“I’ve seen that.”
“Where?”
I didn’t know.
Then I remembered.
My grandmother’s dishes.
The ones I packed from the apartment.
One serving plate had that exact symbol stamped underneath.
I called Melissa.
“Go to your garage.”
“What?”
“Find Grandma’s dishes.”
“Rachel—”
“Now.”
She did.
Five minutes later, she sent a photograph.
The symbol.
Three interlocking circles.
Agent Bell enlarged it.
Below the symbol were tiny numbers.
117-3-6.
Daniel looked around the storage unit.
Unit number.
Three.
Six.
Agent Bell searched the third shelving unit.
Sixth box.
Inside was another smaller wooden box.
Locked.
The key from Emily’s ring did not fit.
Then I remembered the cedar chest.
My grandfather’s envelope.
Inside the envelope had been only the letter.
Or so I thought.
I checked again.
The paper was thick.
Too thick.
Daniel carefully peeled the backing.
A tiny brass key fell out.
It opened the box.
Inside was the green ledger.
Twenty-seven years of people had been lying, stealing, manipulating, and threatening one another over something that had been sitting inside a dusty Pennsylvania storage unit.
Agent Bell opened it.
The pages contained coded transactions.
Company names.
Account identifiers.
Property descriptions.
Trust structures.
Then one section titled CUSTODIAN AUTHORIZATION.
Three signatures.
Thomas Mercer.
Evelyn Marlowe.
Patricia Hart.
Below them was a handwritten note.
Transfer control to Rachel Carter upon resolution.
Leonard Voss has no beneficial interest.
If Leonard claims otherwise, reference Appendix M.
Daniel flipped pages.
Appendix M was missing.
Of course.
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
You found the ledger.
I showed Agent Bell.
He signaled the other agents.
The next message came.
But you still don’t know what you saw.
I typed.
Who is this?
The answer appeared.
Someone who was in the room.
My heart pounded.
Leonard.
I typed his name.
No response.
Then a photograph arrived.
It showed my parents’ house.
Taken from across the street.
Current.
My blood turned cold.
Another message.
Your mother remembers more than she admitted.
I called her.
No answer.
Again.
No answer.
My father.
No answer.
Melissa.
“Go to Mom and Dad’s.”
“Why?”
“Call the police first.”
Agent Bell was already coordinating with local authorities.
I stared at the photograph.
Then another image arrived.
My mother sitting at the kitchen table.
Alive.
Terrified.
Behind her stood a man.
Only part of his body was visible.
Dark jacket.
One hand on the chair.
On his wrist was a watch.
I recognized it.
Leonard had worn the same watch at the bank.
The final message appeared.
Bring the ledger.
May you like
Come alone.
Or Carol finally tells you what really happened in 1999.
