Chapter 2 - Storage Unit 108
North Valley Storage sat beside an abandoned industrial park twelve miles outside Silver Lake.
Finnley arrived shortly before midnight.
He had spent his remaining money on a bus ticket, a cheap meal, and a motel room he wasn't sure he would ever use.
The facility consisted of six long buildings surrounded by chain-link fencing.
Only half the security lights worked.
Finnley found Building C.
Unit 108 stood near the end.
He inserted the key his father had given him three years earlier.
It turned.
The metal door rolled upward.
Finnley expected boxes.
Furniture.
Maybe old company records.
Instead, he found what looked like an investigation room.
A folding table stood in the center.
Bank statements covered one wall.
Photographs covered another.
There were employee records, transaction logs, handwritten notes, maps, and copies of legal documents.
At the center was a photograph of Carter.
Beside it was a photograph of Reagan.
Red lines connected both photographs to several shell companies.
Finnley's heart began pounding.
“What did you find, Dad?”
On the table sat an old laptop.
Beside it was a framed photograph.
Finnley picked it up.
It showed him at seventeen standing beside Camden beside a fishing boat.
For several seconds, Finnley forgot about prison.
He remembered that afternoon.
Camden had spent forty minutes pretending he knew how to repair the boat engine before Finnley discovered the fuel line was disconnected.
They had laughed until neither could breathe.
Finnley pressed the photograph against his chest.
Then he saw the envelope underneath.
IF FINNLEY FINDS THIS.
He opened it.
Inside was another letter.
Son,
The money you were accused of stealing did not disappear.
It was moved.
I discovered irregular transfers six weeks after your conviction.
Someone used your credentials, but the destination accounts eventually led me to companies connected to Carter.
I confronted Reagan.
That was my mistake.
She denied everything.
Three days later, someone broke into my office.
I stopped trusting the police because I didn't know who had access to the evidence from your case.
I started making copies.
If you're reading this, find a woman named Elena Cross.
She worked in accounting.
She saw something the night the transfer was made.
I believe she was frightened into silence.
Do not blame her until you know why.
Finnley sat down.
Carter.
The name didn't surprise him.
But Reagan?
His stepmother had testified at his trial.
She had looked directly at the jury and described Finnley's “growing resentment” toward his father.
She had told them he felt entitled to the company.
She had cried.
Finnley remembered every tear.
Now he wondered whether any had been real.
He opened the laptop.
Password protected.
Finnley tried his father's birthday.
Wrong.
His mother's.
Wrong.
Then he remembered something Camden used to say.
Truth always finds a way.
Finnley typed:
TRUTHFINDSAWAY
The desktop appeared.
Dozens of folders.
BANKING.
CARTER.
REAGAN.
FINNLEY CASE.
CAMDEN MEDICAL.
Finnley stopped.
Medical?
He clicked.
The folder contained medical reports.
Camden had indeed been diagnosed with cancer.
But the date mattered.
Diagnosis: fourteen months ago.
Reagan had told Finnley Camden died a year ago.
Walter had received the letter eighteen months ago.
So Camden had been alive after Finnley's conviction, alive after beginning his investigation, and alive long enough to become sick.
But where had he died?
Finnley opened another document.
It was Camden's will.
Dated four years earlier.
The Silver Lake house went to Finnley.
Fifty-one percent ownership of Dennis Industrial Systems went to Finnley.
A trust worth more than two million dollars went to Finnley.
Reagan received substantial assets, but not the house.
Not controlling ownership of the company.
Finnley stared.
Then he found a second will.
This one was dated thirteen months earlier.
Everything went to Reagan.
Finnley was specifically disinherited.
His signature appeared at the bottom.
Camden Dennis.
Finnley zoomed in.
Something looked wrong.
His father's D always curved sharply left.
This signature didn't.
Finnley had spent years seeing Camden sign checks, birthday cards, school forms, and business paperwork.
This wasn't his signature.
A forged will.
Finnley leaned back.
That was when he heard something outside.
A metallic click.
He froze.
Footsteps.
Finnley quietly closed the laptop.
The shadow beneath the storage door shifted.
Someone was standing outside.
Finnley looked around.
No weapon.
No second exit.
The door suddenly began rising.
Finnley grabbed the laptop.
A man stepped underneath.
Finnley recognized him.
Carter.
His stepbrother looked around the unit.
Then smiled.
“So Dad really did leave you something.”
Finnley's blood went cold.
“How did you find me?”
“You're not exactly difficult to follow.”
“The red car.”
Carter's smile widened.
Finnley looked at the evidence covering the walls.
“You framed me.”
Carter's expression changed slightly.
“I didn't say that.”
“You didn't have to.”
“You always were dramatic.”
“There are bank records here.”
“Copies.”
“Shell companies connected to you.”
“Coincidences.”
“Dad knew.”
Carter stepped closer.
“Dad was sick.”
“He knew.”
“He was confused.”
“Is that why Reagan lied about his grave?”
For the first time, Carter stopped smiling.
Finnley noticed.
“Where is he?”
“Dead.”
“Where?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
“Why? Planning a touching reunion?”
Finnley moved toward him.
Carter raised a hand.
“Careful. You're on parole.”
Finnley stopped.
Again.
That weapon.
His criminal record.
Carter knew exactly how to use it.
Finnley lowered his voice.
“You stole three years of my life.”
Carter shrugged.
“Prove it.”
Finnley held up the laptop.
Carter's eyes moved toward it.
That was enough.
Finnley understood.
This computer mattered.
Carter lunged.
Finnley stepped sideways.
They collided with the table.
Papers scattered.
Carter grabbed the laptop.
Finnley held on.
“You should've stayed gone!” Carter hissed.
Finnley shoved him backward.
Carter crashed into a shelf.
Finnley ran.
He sprinted through the storage complex with the laptop under his arm.
Behind him, Carter shouted.
Finnley reached the fence.
The gate was too far.
He climbed.
Wire tore his palm.
Carter caught his ankle.
Finnley kicked free.
He dropped onto the other side and ran toward the highway.
A truck approached.
Finnley waved desperately.
The driver slowed.
Finnley climbed inside.
“Drive!”
The trucker looked at his bleeding hand.
“You in trouble?”
Finnley glanced back.
Carter stood behind the fence.
“Yes.”
The truck pulled away.
Finnley opened the laptop.
One notification appeared.
An email program had automatically connected to the trucker's mobile hotspot.
There was one unsent draft.
Written by Camden.
Addressed to Finnley.
Subject:
IF THEY TELL YOU I'M DEAD.
Finnley opened it.
Son,
If Reagan tells you I died from cancer at home, she is lying.
I left Silver Lake voluntarily.
I had to disappear because I believed exposing what happened to you would put both of us in danger.
But I made one promise before leaving.
I would clear your name.
There is one person who knows where I went.
Walter Mercer.
And one person who knows who framed you.
Elena Cross.
Find Elena first.
Finnley stared through the windshield into the darkness.
His father had not abandoned him.
Camden had been fighting for him.
And somewhere between that email and Reagan's claim that Camden was dead, something had happened.
Something Reagan desperately wanted buried.
Finnley closed the laptop.
“Where are you headed?” the trucker asked.
Finnley looked at the name in his father's message.
“Elena Cross.”
He finally had a witness.
May you like
But he had no idea that Elena had spent three years waiting for him too.
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