Chapter 10: The Uncle Who Sold His Brother
I stared at the photograph until my eyes began to hurt.
My father stood outside his garage, wearing the brown leather jacket he used to work in every winter.
Beside him was Robert Carter.
My uncle.
And standing several feet behind them was Alexander Whitmore.
The photograph had been taken on the night of the fire.
For thirteen years, I'd believed Robert had simply abandoned our family after my father's funeral.
Now someone was suggesting he'd helped arrange my father's death.
"Michael," I said, "find out where my uncle is.""
Michael was already typing.
"His last known address is in Connecticut. He owns a consulting company registered under a different name.""
"Can we contact him?""
"Not yet. If he's involved, we don't want him knowing we're investigating.""
I picked up the photograph again.
There was something strange about the timestamp printed in the corner.
11:47 p.m.
According to the official investigation, the fire had started at 11:32.
That meant the photograph had been taken fifteen minutes after the fire began.
My father was still alive.
And Robert was standing beside him.
"Michael, look at the background.""
He enlarged the image.
A second vehicle was visible near the garage entrance.
A white delivery van.
Its side panel carried a faded company logo.
*Whitmore Industrial Services.*
Michael leaned closer.
"That's a company owned by Whitmore Technologies.""
"Can you identify the driver?""
He zoomed in.
The windshield reflected the streetlight, but a man's face was partially visible.
Michael shook his head.
"Not clearly.""
My phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
I answered.
"Daniel Carter?""
"Who is this?""
"Someone who knew your father.""
"That's not an answer.""
A man's voice lowered.
"Your uncle is alive. And if you want to know what happened thirteen years ago, you need to meet him before Richard does.""
I stood.
"Where?""
"Tomorrow. Eleven in the morning. The old Riverside Hotel in Hartford. Come alone.""
"Why should I trust you?""
A pause.
"Because I was the man driving the van.""
The call ended.
Michael looked at me.
"What happened?""
I told him everything.
He immediately shook his head.
"You're not going anywhere alone.""
"He specifically said to come alone.""
"That's precisely why you're not going alone.""
The following morning, we arrived in Hartford with two investigators.
Michael remained in the vehicle while I entered the hotel.
The lobby was almost empty.
An elderly man sat near the window, wearing a dark cap and holding a newspaper.
He looked up.
"Daniel?""
"Yes.""
"My name is Frank Miller.""
I sat across from him.
"You said you drove the van.""
Frank nodded.
"I worked for Whitmore Industrial Services. I was twenty-eight. They told me I was transporting equipment.""
"What equipment?""
"Chemical containers. Cleaning supplies, according to the paperwork.""
He looked down at his hands.
"Then I saw the garage burning.""
My jaw tightened.
"What happened?""
Frank took a deep breath.
"Your father was outside. He was trying to get back into the building. Robert was holding him.""
I felt sick.
"Why?""
"Your father had gone inside to retrieve a metal case. Robert wouldn't let him.""
"Did he know the garage was going to burn?""
Frank nodded.
"Yes.""
I stared at him.
"You're saying my uncle knew?""
"He was paid to make sure your father didn't get the documents.""
"By whom?""
Frank looked around.
"Richard Whitmore.""
I leaned forward.
"Did you see Richard that night?""
"No. But I heard him on Robert's phone.""
Frank reached into his jacket and removed a small memory card.
"I recorded the conversation.""
My heart began pounding.
"Why?""
"Because I realized what they were doing. I wanted something to protect myself.""
He placed the card on the table.
"Your father wasn't supposed to die. They wanted to destroy the research and scare him into giving up the patent. But the fire spread faster than they expected.""
I stared at the memory card.
"Did Robert try to save him?""
Frank's eyes filled with tears.
"No. He drove away.""
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
Then I asked the question that mattered most.
"Why are you telling me this now?""
Frank looked directly at me.
"Because Richard is preparing to sell the company. And he intends to destroy every record connected to that night.""
I took the memory card.
"How do you know?""
Frank swallowed.
"Because I received a call yesterday. They know I still have evidence.""
Before I could ask another question, his phone rang.
He looked at the screen and went pale.
"That's him.""
"Who?""
"Robert.""
I stood.
"Put it on speaker.""
Frank answered.
A familiar voice came through.
"Frank, I hope you're not making another mistake.""
Frank's hands trembled.
"I haven't done anything.""
Robert laughed.
"Then keep it that way. Daniel Carter has no idea what his father was involved in.""
I grabbed the phone.
"Uncle Robert?""
Silence.
Then a slow breath.
"Daniel.""
"Why did you leave my father to die?""
His voice hardened.
"Your father brought it on himself.""
The call disconnected.
I stood motionless.
Michael entered the lobby moments later.
He saw my expression.
"What did he say?""
I handed him the memory card.
"Enough to make sure he never gets to rewrite the story.""
But as we left the hotel, my phone vibrated again.
A message from Olivia.
*Daniel, Alexander has taken my mother. He says he'll release her when I give him the second design.*
Below it was a photograph.
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Patricia Parker sat in a dark room, her hands tied to a chair.
And beside her stood Richard Whitmore.
