Chapter 6 - The Uncle Who Knew Too Much

Adrian did not move.

Sometimes shock looks like anger.

Sometimes it looks like nothing.

He stared at Samuel.

“My mother died in a car accident.”

Samuel shook his head.

“That was the story.”

“I saw a coffin.”

“It was closed.”

“I went to her funeral.”

“Yes.”

Adrian turned to Jonathan.

“Did you know?”

Jonathan looked destroyed.

“No.”

Adrian looked at David.

“No.”

Margaret.

“No.”

Vivienne.

She shook her head.

“No.”

For once, everyone was equally lost.

Samuel sat down.

“When Eleanor found Jonathan’s letters, she confronted Marcus.”

Adrian’s jaw tightened.

“What happened?”

“He told her the truth.”

Jonathan whispered:

“Why?”

“Because he wanted to know where you were.”

Samuel looked at him.

“He believed Eleanor had contact with you.”

“She didn’t.”

“I know.”

Samuel continued:

“Marcus told her that if she tried to find you, Adrian would be used to draw you out.”

Jonathan closed his eyes.

Samuel looked at Adrian.

“So your mother made the same choice your father made.”

Adrian understood.

“She disappeared to protect me.”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

Samuel shook his head.

“I don’t know.”

Adrian laughed.

A terrible sound.

“My father is alive.”

He pointed at Jonathan.

“My mother may have lived eleven years longer than I was told.”

Then at the files.

“My uncle bought a federal investigator.”

Then at Vivienne.

“My fiancée was helping investigate him.”

He looked around the room.

“And somehow I’m the last person in every room to know my own life.”

No one answered.

Samuel finally said:

“Not anymore.”

He removed a small photograph from his wallet.

A woman in sunglasses.

Gray-streaked dark hair.

Standing outside a pharmacy.

Date stamp.

Eleven years ago.

Eleanor.

Alive.

Adrian touched the edge of the photo.

“Where was this taken?”

“Philadelphia.”

“By you?”

“No.”

Samuel hesitated.

“By Marcus.”

Jonathan stood.

“He found her.”

Samuel nodded.

“That is why she vanished again.”

Adrian looked at the time.

2:03 a.m.

“What happened after that?”

“I received one postcard six months later.”

“From her?”

“Yes.”

“Where is it?”

“In box 908.”

Adrian closed his eyes.

Everything led back to that box.

Then David’s phone rang.

Federal contact.

He answered.

Listened.

His expression changed.

“What do you mean he left the house?”

Adrian looked up.

“Who?”

David ended the call.

“Marcus.”

Vivienne asked:

“Where did he go?”

“They lost him twelve minutes ago.”

Jonathan looked at the bank receipt inside Adrian’s jacket.

“He knows.”

Samuel shook his head.

“He cannot know about 908.”

Jonathan said:

“He knew about the station.”

“That was different.”

“How?”

Samuel had no answer.

I did.

Everyone looked at me because I spoke quietly.

“The jacket.”

Adrian turned.

“What?”

I pointed at it.

“Vivienne told me to throw it away before dinner.”

Vivienne frowned.

“Because I saw one of Marcus’s men in the service hall.”

“Yes.”

I looked at Samuel.

“You delivered the jacket.”

“Yes.”

“Who handled it before I did?”

Samuel thought.

“A coat attendant.”

Vivienne’s face changed.

“The attendant was new.”

I remembered him.

Tall.

Black gloves.

Never looked at guests.

Adrian searched the jacket.

Pockets.

Lining.

Sleeves.

Nothing.

Then Jonathan took it.

He ran his fingers beneath the collar.

Stopped.

He tore one stitch.

A tiny black object dropped onto the table.

Tracking device.

Samuel swore under his breath.

Adrian stared at it.

“So he didn’t follow my father.”

Jonathan nodded.

“He followed the jacket.”

David reached for his phone.

Adrian stopped him.

“No.”

David frowned.

“No?”

Adrian looked at the tracker.

“For twenty years, Marcus has always known where everyone was.”

He picked it up.

“Let’s change that.”

At 2:18 a.m., one of David’s federal contacts took the jacket.

At 2:24, the man drove east.

Marcus’s tracker went with him.

At 2:31, we left west.

No jacket.

No phones.

No predictable route.

For the first time that night, we were invisible.

We spent the remaining hours in a federal interview room under another name.

At 7:52 a.m., we entered the private bank through the employee garage.

Box 908 required Jonathan’s signature.

Then Adrian’s.

The clerk placed the long metal box in a private room.

Adrian looked at his father.

“You open it.”

Jonathan shook his head.

“It was always yours.”

Adrian lifted the lid.

Inside were letters.

Photographs.

His original birth certificate.

A silver watch.

A postcard.

And the ledger.

Thick.

Black.

Handwritten.

Jonathan touched it.

“Twenty years.”

David opened the first page.

Company names.

Dates.

Transfers.

Initials.

M.K.

Marcus Kane.

Adrian picked up the postcard.

The front showed the ocean.

No return address.

On the back, Eleanor’s handwriting.

SAMUEL,

I AM SAFE.

TELL JONATHAN, IF HE EVER COMES HOME, THAT I FORGAVE HIM BEFORE I UNDERSTOOD EVERYTHING.

TELL ADRIAN I WATCHED FROM FARTHER AWAY THAN A MOTHER SHOULD.

DO NOT LOOK FOR ME.

M.

Adrian read it twice.

Then he noticed something beneath the stamp.

Tiny writing.

Four words.

Samuel had never seen them.

Jonathan leaned closer.

Adrian read aloud.

“St. Matthew. October twelve.”

David frowned.

“A church?”

Margaret whispered:

“Or a meeting.”

Samuel looked at the date.

His face changed.

“October twelfth is tomorrow.”

Adrian stared at him.

The postcard was eleven years old.

But the message suddenly felt current.

Jonathan said:

“St. Matthew where?”

No one knew.

Then Vivienne looked at the silver watch.

She picked it up.

On the back were engraved coordinates.

Not coordinates.

A street number.

1217.

And two letters.

PA.

Samuel whispered:

“Philadelphia.”

Adrian closed his hand around the watch.

His father was alive.

His uncle was exposed.

And now, for the first time in eleven years, they had a place connected to his mother.

Then the bank clerk knocked.

“Mr. Kane?”

Adrian looked toward the door.

“Yes?”

“There is a gentleman downstairs asking for you.”

David went still.

“Name?”

May you like

[COMPLETED] “GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY DRESS! YOU’RE NOTHING BUT AN OLD SEAM...

[COMPLETED] At the Mafia Boss's Engagement Party, I Served His Hungry So...

[COMPLETED] The Mafia Boss’s Fiancée Tried to Dismiss His Father’s Loyal...

The clerk swallowed.

“Marcus Kane.”