Chapter 3 - The Woman Who Died Before Sarah Disappeared

Daniel stood over the photograph.

“My mother’s car.”

Sarah nodded.

“You said Dad gave you this.”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Twenty years ago.”

“Why?”

“He believed the brakes had been cut.”

Daniel stared.

“Did he prove it?”

“No.”

Lorenzo looked at Sarah.

“Who owned the repair shop?”

She answered:

“Your uncle.”

Silence.

Lorenzo looked at Peter.

Peter’s face changed.

“You knew?”

“No.”

Sarah continued.

“Your father found a mechanic who said the brake line had been altered.”

“Where is he?”

“Dead.”

Daniel laughed bitterly.

“Convenient.”

Sarah nodded.

“Very.”

Lorenzo picked up one bank statement.

“Why was my father moving money with them?”

Sarah looked ashamed.

“He helped create the system.”

“What system?”

“Cash from Moretti construction contracts was moved through shell companies.”

“How much?”

“Millions.”

“For what?”

“Some went to politicians.”

Isabella covered her mouth.

“Some?”

Sarah looked at Lorenzo.

“Some went to your father’s second household.”

Daniel froze.

“What?”

Lorenzo stared at him.

Sarah continued.

“Your father supported Daniel and his mother secretly.”

Daniel shook his head.

“My mother said she paid for everything.”

“She was protecting him.”

Daniel looked away.

Lorenzo asked:

“Why hide him?”

“Your grandfather would have destroyed your father if he knew about Daniel.”

“So he hid one son and raised another.”

“Yes.”

Daniel laughed once.

“No one raised me.”

Silence.

Sarah looked at him.

“I know.”

He turned on her.

“You knew I existed.”

“Yes.”

“For twenty years.”

“Yes.”

“And you never contacted me.”

“I did.”

Daniel stared.

“What?”

Sarah opened the metal box.

Three envelopes.

Addressed to Daniel.

Returned.

UNKNOWN RECIPIENT.

Daniel’s face changed.

“Who returned these?”

Sarah looked at Peter.

Peter checked the postmarks.

“Same private forwarding center.”

Lorenzo’s eyes hardened.

“Richard.”

Sarah nodded.

“Or your uncle.”

Isabella whispered:

“My father handled the mail.”

Lorenzo looked at her.

She lowered her eyes.

Daniel opened one letter.

His hands shook.

Sarah had written:

YOUR FATHER IS AFRAID FOR BOTH HIS SONS.

Daniel looked at Lorenzo.

“Both.”

Lorenzo said nothing.

Another line:

IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO ME, FIND PETER MORRIS.

Peter went pale.

“You wrote my name?”

“Yes.”

“Why me?”

“Because you were the only postal worker who once refused Richard’s order.”

Peter frowned.

“When?”

“1999.”

His face changed.

He remembered.

“A registered letter.”

“Yes.”

Peter looked at Lorenzo.

“Your father mailed something to a federal investigator.”

Lorenzo stared.

“What?”

Peter continued.

“Richard tried to retrieve it.”

“Did he?”

“No.”

“What happened to the letter?”

“I delivered it.”

Sarah whispered:

“That was the beginning.”

Lorenzo looked at her.

“Beginning of what?”

“My husband trying to leave the scheme.”

Daniel frowned.

“Did the investigator act?”

Sarah shook her head.

“He disappeared from the case.”

Lorenzo almost laughed.

“Another dead man?”

“No.”

Sarah looked toward the window.

“He’s alive.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know.”

Peter said:

“I do.”

Everyone turned.

Peter looked uncomfortable.

“I saw him three months ago.”

Lorenzo stared.

“Who?”

“Former investigator Thomas Hale.”

Sarah stood.

“You saw Thomas?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“At the old postal annex.”

“What was he doing there?”

Peter swallowed.

“Looking for a missing package.”

Lorenzo’s expression hardened.

“What package?”

Peter looked at the letters.

“Something your father mailed twenty years ago.”

Silence.

Sarah whispered:

“He mailed more than the report?”

Peter nodded.

“What?”

“A cassette tape.”

Lorenzo stared.

“My father recorded something.”

Peter said:

“According to Hale.”

“Did he find it?”

“No.”

“Why?”

Peter looked at Richard’s name on the forwarding papers.

“Because someone changed the destination before delivery.”

Isabella closed her eyes.

Lorenzo saw.

“You know where.”

She shook her head.

“No.”

“But you know something.”

She started crying.

“Three months ago, when I found your mother’s letters, I also found a postal key.”

Peter frowned.

“What kind?”

“Old brass key.”

“Number?”

“214.”

Peter’s face changed.

“The annex boxes.”

Lorenzo looked at him.

“What is Box 214?”

Peter whispered:

“A dead-letter storage box.”

Lorenzo turned to Isabella.

“Where is the key?”

She swallowed.

“My father took it.”

Silence.

Daniel stepped closer.

“Then Richard has the tape.”

Sarah shook her head.

“Maybe not.”

Lorenzo looked at her.

“Why?”

“Because Richard was never the only person collecting your father’s mail.”

Lorenzo’s jaw tightened.

“My uncle.”

Sarah nodded.

Then Peter’s phone rang.

Unknown number.

He answered.

“Hello?”

A man’s voice.

Old.

Weak.

“Peter Morris?”

“Yes.”

“This is Thomas Hale.”

Everyone froze.

Peter put the phone on speaker.

Hale continued.

“If Lorenzo Vale is with you, tell him not to go to the postal annex.”

Lorenzo stepped closer.

“Why?”

Silence.

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Then:

“Because his uncle is already there.”