Chapter 5 - Locker Twenty-Seven
I didn't open the door.
Instead, I quietly woke Emily.
“Put your shoes on.”
She looked at my face.
“What happened?”
“We need to leave.”
“Is Julian here?”
I didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
She moved quickly.
Too quickly for a ten-year-old.
No questions.
No complaints.
Just shoes.
Jacket.
Stuffed dog.
That frightened me almost as much as anything else.
I opened the back door.
The yard behind my house bordered a narrow walking path.
We slipped outside.
At the front of the house, Morales continued knocking.
“Daniel!”
Emily grabbed my hand.
We ran.
I called Agent Brooks while moving.
He answered immediately.
“Daniel?”
“Morales is at my house.”
Silence.
“What?”
“Elena called me. She said Morales knew about her tracker months ago.”
“Where are you?”
“Leaving.”
“Do not go back.”
“Julian is outside too.”
Brooks swore.
“Get somewhere public.”
“I'm going to the police station.”
“No.”
That stopped me.
“Why?”
“If Morales is involved, we don't know who else is.”
“So where?”
“Federal building downtown. I'll meet you.”
I didn't mention Riverside Park.
Not yet.
Twenty minutes later, Emily and I sat inside a twenty-four-hour diner surrounded by truck drivers and exhausted nurses.
I needed to think.
“Elena said there was another drive,” I told Brooks over the phone.
“Where?”
“I'll tell you when you're here.”
“You don't trust me?”
“I don't trust anyone right now.”
He was silent.
“Fair.”
That answer made me trust him slightly more.
At 1:30 a.m., Brooks arrived with another federal agent.
No Morales.
I told him everything.
The birthday.
The carousel.
Locker twenty-seven.
Brooks stared at me.
“Riverside Park hasn't had public lockers in years.”
“I know.”
“Then what did she mean?”
Emily spoke.
“The old carousel building does.”
We looked at her.
“How do you know?”
“Mom took me there last summer.”
“Why?”
“She said she wanted to show me where my birthday party was.”
Riverside's original carousel pavilion had been converted into a storage and event building.
If Elena had hidden something there, it might still exist.
We drove together.
The park was closed, but Brooks arranged access.
Inside the old building, dust covered rows of unused storage lockers along a back wall.
Twenty-seven was locked.
Brooks photographed it.
Then opened it with bolt cutters.
Inside sat a small blue lunchbox.
Nothing else.
Brooks carefully lifted it out.
Inside was another flash drive.
A key.
And an envelope.
The envelope had my name on it.
I opened it.
Daniel, if you're reading this, I failed to get us out quietly.
My hands trembled.
Emily stood beside me.
I'm sorry for the years we spent blaming each other. Julian encouraged every argument between us because conflict kept us separated. He read my messages. He deleted some of yours. He convinced me you didn't care.
I stopped.
That sentence hurt in ways I hadn't expected.
For two years, I had believed Elena wanted me pushed out of Emily's life.
Had Julian engineered some of it?
I continued.
The key opens a storage unit under my maiden name. Everything I couldn't copy digitally is there. Most importantly, there is a notebook with names. One of those names is inside the police department. I don't know which one I can trust anymore.
Brooks looked grim.
We drove to the storage facility before sunrise.
Unit 314.
Inside were boxes.
Files.
Old laptops.
Bank statements.
Photographs.
And a spiral notebook.
Brooks opened it.
Halfway down one page was a name.
Marcus Hale.
Captain Marcus Hale.
Detective Morales's supervisor.
Not Morales.
Brooks immediately called his office.
Within an hour, an internal investigation began.
Morales was found at my house, confused about why I had disappeared.
He wasn't working with Julian.
Hale was.
For years, Julian had paid him for information.
Victim complaints.
Investigation details.
Search warrants.
Everything.
Morales had told Hale about Elena's tracker months ago believing his supervisor would help.
Instead, Hale warned Julian.
That was why Elena stopped trusting Morales.
Not because Morales had betrayed her intentionally.
Because he had unknowingly led Julian directly to her.
At 6:20 a.m., federal agents arrested Captain Hale.
He resisted.
Then started talking.
Julian had contacted him the previous night.
He wanted money.
A vehicle.
And information about Elena.
“Where is Julian now?” I asked.
Brooks didn't answer.
“Where?”
“We believe he knows Elena is alive.”
“And?”
“And he's looking for her.”
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
Everyone froze.
I answered.
“Elena?”
Julian's voice came through instead.
“Daniel.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“Where is she?”
“You should have minded your own business.”
“Where is Elena?”
“You took Emily.”
“She is my daughter.”
“She was leverage.”
The casual cruelty made Brooks's face harden.
“Julian, listen to me.”
“No. You listen.”
A woman cried faintly in the background.
“Elena?”
“Daniel!” she screamed.
Then the sound disappeared.
My stomach dropped.
Julian spoke calmly.
“You have something that belongs to me.”
“The drive?”
“Yes.”
“What happens if I give it to you?”
“I give Elena back.”
Brooks shook his head firmly.
I ignored him.
“Where?”
Julian laughed.
“You'll know.”
The phone disconnected.
Seconds later, a photograph arrived.
Elena sat inside a dark room.
Her hands were bound in front of her.
Behind her was a faded sign.
CARTER FARMS FEED & SUPPLY.
I knew the place.
My grandfather's abandoned feed store outside town.
A property Julian had visited once during my marriage.
Brooks immediately began mobilizing agents.
But Emily stared at the photograph.
“Dad.”
“What?”
“That's not where Mom is.”
I looked at her.
“What do you mean?”
“The window.”
I zoomed in.
Behind Elena was a small square window.
Moonlight reflected off water.
Emily pointed.
“That isn't the feed store.”
“How do you know?”
“No windows like that.”
She was right.
The old building's windows were tall.
Julian had staged the photograph.
Brooks leaned closer.
“What water?”
Emily whispered, “The lake.”
“What lake?”
She looked at me.
“The cabin.”
And suddenly I remembered.
Three summers earlier, Julian had taken Elena and Emily to a rented cabin near Monroe Lake.
Isolated.
Surrounded by forest.
I looked at Brooks.
“He's not waiting at the feed store.”
Brooks reached for his radio.
May you like
“He's waiting at the lake.”
And somewhere sixty miles south, Elena was running out of time.
