Chương 13
“Understood.”
That was a lie.
Morales seemed to hear it anyway.
He paused at the door.
“Ms. Carter.”
I looked at him.
“Whatever you think is at that Archer address, don’t go tonight.”
My heartbeat skipped.
I had not mentioned the address.
Dominic went still.
Mom did too.
Morales noticed all three reactions.
“What?”
I stared at him.
“How do you know about Archer?”
He frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“You just said Archer.”
“No.”
“Yes, you did.”
Brenner looked at him.
Morales’s face tightened.
“I said don’t go anywhere tonight.”
“No.”
My voice sharpened.
“You said Archer.”
Silence filled the apartment.
Brenner stopped writing.
Dominic stepped away from the wall.
Morales looked genuinely confused for a second.
Then something changed behind his eyes.
Not guilt.
Recognition.
He had made a mistake and understood which one.
I moved closer.
“How do you know that address?”
Morales glanced at Brenner.
“Officer, give us a minute.”
Brenner did not move.
Morales looked at him.
“That’s an order.”
Brenner hesitated.
Then stepped into the hallway.
I watched him go.
My skin prickled.
Dominic’s voice went flat.
“Bad move.”
Morales ignored him.
He looked at me.
“Eight years ago, I was a patrol officer.”
Mom whispered, “No.”
Morales continued.
“I responded to the scene where your father died.”
The room tilted.
I grabbed the back of the kitchen chair.
“You were there?”
“Yes.”
“You knew my father?”
“No.”
“You knew Whitmore?”
“No.”
“Moretti?”
His jaw tightened.
“That’s complicated.”
I laughed without humor.
“Apparently everything is.”
Morales looked toward the hallway.
“There were two incident reports that night.”
I stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
“One official.”
“And the other?”
“A supplemental report.”
“About what?”
“A second vehicle.”
Mom covered her mouth.
I felt Dominic shift beside me.
“What vehicle?”
Morales’s voice lowered.
“Black Lincoln sedan.”
I remembered Mom describing Dominic’s father across the street at the funeral.
My stomach turned.
“Registered to who?”
He looked at Dominic.
“Moretti Financial.”
Dominic’s face lost color.
“What year?”
“Don’t.”
“What year?”
Morales answered.
Dominic looked away.
“That was my father’s car.”
Mom made a sound behind me.
Small.
Broken.
I turned.
She had gone pale.
“Mom?”
She sat down hard.
“I saw that car.”
“When?”
Her eyes lifted to mine.
“The night Daniel died.”
Everything inside me stopped.
“You told me you were home.”
“I was.”
“What are you saying?”
“I followed him.”
My voice came out thin.
“You followed Dad?”
She nodded.
“He left after midnight.”
“Why?”
“He was acting strange.”
“What did you see?”
Mom looked at Morales.
He looked away first.
That told me too much.
“What did you see?”
“I saw your father enter the Archer warehouse.”
“And?”
“A black sedan was already there.”
Dominic whispered, “My father.”
Mom nodded.
“I waited across the street.”
“For how long?”
“Maybe twenty minutes.”
“What happened?”
Her fingers shook against her robe.
“Daniel came out running.”
I could barely breathe.
“Alone?”
“No.”
“Who was behind him?”
She looked at Dominic.
“Your father.”
Dominic’s face hardened.
Mom continued.
“And another man.”
“Whitmore?”
“I don’t know.”
“Vale?”
“I couldn’t see.”
“What happened next?”
Mom stared at the table.
“I heard a gunshot.”
The word landed without drama.
That made it worse.
I gripped the chair harder.
“You heard a gunshot and never told me?”
“He was still alive when he reached his truck.”
“What?”
“He drove away.”
I stared at her.
“That’s impossible.”
“No.”
“You said the plant called you.”
“They did.”
“Dad died at the plant.”
“Yes.”
“How did he get there?”
“He drove.”
Morales said quietly, “Seven minutes.”
I turned on him.
“You knew.”
“I knew a witness reported hearing a gunshot near Archer.”
“What witness?”
He did not answer.
I looked at Mom.
She closed her eyes.
“You.”
Mom nodded.
“You reported it?”
“Anonymously.”
“Why anonymously?”
“Because Daniel told me if anything happened, I was supposed to stay away from police.”
I looked at Morales.
“And you buried it.”
His face hardened.
“No.”
“What happened to the supplemental report?”
“It disappeared.”
“Reports don’t disappear.”
“They can when someone with access removes them.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No.”
He looked tired again.
Older.
“I expect you to believe I spent eight years regretting that I didn’t make another copy.”
Dominic stepped forward.
“Why do you remember the Archer address?”
Morales looked at him.
“Because two days after Daniel Carter died, Richard Vale came into my district station.”
The room went cold.
“What did he want?”
Morales looked at me.
“He wanted to know whether anyone had reported hearing a gunshot near 4176 South Archer.”
I swallowed.
“And you told him?”
“No.”
“Then how did he know there was a report?”
“That question has bothered me ever since.”
My phone buzzed on the table.
Everyone flinched.
A message from an unknown number appeared.
I opened it.
There was no text.
Only a photograph.
Paul Mercer sat on the floor against a concrete wall.
Blood darkened one side of his face.
Behind him was a yellow metal locker.
The number painted on it was 214.
A second message appeared.
Bring the key before midnight tomorrow.
A third followed before anyone spoke.
Come alone, Avery, or your mother learns what really killed Daniel.
I read the last message twice.
Then I handed the phone to Morales.
He did not touch it at first.
“Screenshot it.”
I did.
“Now forward everything to me.”
I looked at Dominic.
He gave me Morales’s number without comment.
The messages went through.
Mom stood beside the table with both hands wrapped around herself.
“Whoever sent that knows about the key.”
I looked at her.
“And about Dad.”
Dominic stared at the photograph of Mercer.
“The locker is still at Archer.”
Morales looked at him.
“You know that for certain?”
“I know the old storage cages were moved intact.”
“Why?”
“Inventory disputes.”
“That’s vague.”
“It’s all I have.”
Morales rubbed his jaw.
“No one goes there tonight.”
I looked at him.
May you like
“You already said that.”
“And I mean it more now.”
