Chương 6
The person outside pushed the door farther open.
Then a voice came through.
“Peter?”
They both froze.
It was not a stranger.
It was an older man’s voice.
Tired.
Rough.
Familiar.
Peter stepped closer before Linda could stop him.
“Who is that?”
He did not answer.
“Peter.”
This time he looked at her.
His face had changed.
Not fear anymore.
Recognition.
The door opened wide enough for someone to step through.
The man standing there held a small flashlight in one hand and a folded piece of paper in the other.
He looked older than Linda expected.
His gray hair was wet from the rain.
His jacket was covered in dust.
But she recognized him immediately.
Not because she had met him.
Because she had seen his name.
“Frank Dalton,” Linda said.
The man looked at her.
For a second, surprise crossed his face.
Then it disappeared.
“You found the files.”
Peter moved between them.
“How do you know about the files?”
Frank looked at him.
“That’s the wrong question.”
Peter’s expression hardened.
“It’s the question I asked.”
Frank sighed.
“You always did that.”
“Did what?”
“Act like being angry meant you were thinking clearly.”
Peter said nothing.
Linda watched the two men.
There was history there.
Not friendship.
Something more complicated.
The kind of history people carried when too much had happened between them and neither person wanted to admit it mattered.
“Who is he?” Linda asked.
Peter did not look away from Frank.
“He worked with Daniel.”
Frank shook his head.
“I worked for Daniel.”
The distinction hung in the air.
Linda noticed it.
So did Peter.
“What does that mean?”
Frank looked at the warehouse around them.
“You really don’t know, do you?”
Linda felt irritation rise.
She was tired of people speaking around the truth.
She was tired of every answer creating three more questions.
“My husband died six months ago,” she said.
Frank’s expression softened slightly.
“I know.”
“No.”
Her voice became sharper.
“You know things about him that I don’t.”
Frank looked down.
“That was always Daniel’s problem.”
Peter glanced at him.
“Careful.”
“No,” Frank said.
“I’m done being careful.”
The rain grew louder.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Frank handed Linda the folded paper.
She hesitated before taking it.
“What is this?”
“Something Daniel left behind.”
Peter stepped forward.
“Where did you get that?”
Frank looked at him.
“From the same place you got the storage unit key.”
Peter’s face changed.
Linda noticed.
A tiny reaction.
Almost invisible.
But she saw it.
“You knew about the key?”
Peter looked away.
That hurt more than she expected.
Not because she thought Peter had betrayed her.
Because she realized there were still parts of Daniel’s life that everyone around her had known except her.
“Peter.”
He rubbed his hand over his face.
“I didn’t know what it opened.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“I know.”
Frank watched them quietly.
“You both think Daniel was hiding something from you.”
Linda looked at him.
“Was he?”
Frank did not answer immediately.
That silence was an answer by itself.
The warehouse suddenly felt smaller.
Linda unfolded the paper.
It was a copy of a handwritten note.
The handwriting was unmistakable.
Daniel’s.
Her chest tightened before she even read the words.
If they find the original file, they will come looking for everyone connected to it.
Do not trust the first person who offers help.
Linda read the sentence again.
Then again.
Peter saw her expression.
“What does it say?”
She handed him the paper.
He read it silently.
Frank watched his reaction.
“You see?”
Peter looked up.
“See what?”
“Daniel knew.”
“Knew what?”
“That someone would come after the file.”
Linda looked between them.
“What file?”
Neither man answered.
She laughed once.
It was not because anything was funny.
It was the kind of laugh that came when someone finally reached the edge of patience.
“No.”
They both looked at her.
“No more.”
Her voice shook, but she kept going.
“I spent months listening to people tell me Daniel was stressed, Daniel was busy, Daniel was dealing with things at work.”
She folded the paper.
“Then he dies, and suddenly everyone has pieces of him that I never got.”
Peter opened his mouth.
She stopped him.
“I don’t need another person telling me they were protecting me.”
The words landed harder than she expected.
Peter looked down.
Because he had been about to say exactly that.
Frank stepped back.
“I’m sorry.”
Linda looked at him.
“For what?”
“For knowing Daniel better than you did.”
That answer hurt because it was honest.
Frank looked toward the shelves along the back wall.
“There is something else you need to know.”
Peter frowned.
“What?”
“The file you found is incomplete.”
Linda felt the room shift.
“We found the missing pages?”
Frank shook his head.
“No.”
“Then how do you know?”
“Because Daniel told me.”
“When?”
Frank looked toward the dark corner of the warehouse.
“Three days before he died.”
Peter went still.
Linda noticed.
“Three days?”
Frank nodded.
“He called me.”
“And you didn’t tell anyone?”
Frank’s jaw tightened.
“I tried.”
“Who did you tell?”
Nobody answered.
The silence stretched.
Then Peter spoke quietly.
“Frank.”
The older man looked at him.
“What?”
“What happened three days after Daniel called you?”
Frank looked at Linda.
And for the first time since he entered the warehouse, he looked afraid again.
“He disappeared.”
Linda felt cold despite the heavy air.
“Daniel?”
Frank nodded.
“Not disappeared like people say.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means someone wanted everyone to believe he left.”
Peter stared at him.
“You’re saying Daniel was alive after that?”
Frank looked at the floor.
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
Too carefully.
Linda noticed.
“So what are you saying?”
Frank looked at the note in her hand.
“I’m saying Daniel knew something was going to happen.”
A noise came from outside.
All three of them turned.
A car door slammed.
Then another.
Peter moved toward the entrance.
May you like
Linda followed.
Through the dirty warehouse window, she saw two figures standing near the road.
