Chapter 10: The Secret Behind Room Seventeen
I called the unknown number back seventeen times.
Every call went straight to voicemail.
By midnight, I had stopped expecting an answer.
I sat at my father's desk with the two photographs spread before me, studying the small number written in their corners. Seventeen. The same number appeared on the metal tag attached to the key in the older photograph.
Mr. Harrison had gone home after arranging for the relevant documents to be preserved. Detective Brooks had promised to follow up on the caller's identity, but he had warned me not to investigate alone.
I intended to obey him.
At least, until I found the envelope tucked beneath the bottom drawer of Dad's desk.
It wasn't the envelope Vanessa had taken. This one was smaller, sealed with a strip of brown tape, and addressed to me in handwriting I recognized immediately.
Inside was a brass key.
A small white tag hung from its ring.
*17.*
Beneath it lay a handwritten note.
Emily, if you've found this, the person who called you may have told you the truth. Don't trust the first explanation you hear. Go to the place where I kept the things I couldn't bring myself to destroy.
I read the note three times.
Then I called Mr. Harrison.
He answered on the second ring.
"Emily? Is everything all right?""
"I found another key. It has the number seventeen on it.""
He went silent.
"Where did you find it?""
"Hidden beneath Dad's desk drawer. There's a note telling me to find a place where he kept things he couldn't destroy.""
"Don't go anywhere tonight," he said firmly.
"I'll contact Detective Brooks in the morning.""
"Do you know what the key opens?""
"I have a suspicion. But I need to verify it before I tell you.""
"What suspicion?""
"Your father once mentioned a private storage facility. He said he had deposited certain personal documents somewhere outside the house.""
My fingers tightened around the key.
"Why didn't you tell me?""
"Because I didn't know the location. Michael refused to disclose it until he was ready.""
I looked at the note again.
"Mr. Harrison, Dad left this for me. He wanted me to find it.""
"And he also wanted you to be safe. Please don't mistake those two things for permission to take unnecessary risks.""
I promised not to go anywhere without contacting him first.
The next morning, Detective Brooks arrived with a colleague. After examining the key and the note, he contacted the storage company identified through Dad's old financial records.
By noon, we were standing inside a small office on the outskirts of Atlanta.
The manager, a nervous man named Paul, examined the key.
"That looks like one of our older unit keys," he said.
"We switched to electronic access for most units years ago.""
"Can you identify the unit?"" Detective Brooks asked.
Paul checked his computer.
"Unit 17. The rental agreement is under Michael Walker's name.""
My heart hammered.
"Is it still active?""
"Paid through the end of this month.""
Detective Brooks showed him the appropriate documentation and confirmed the arrangements for lawful access. Paul led us down a narrow corridor lined with metal doors.
The air smelled of dust and cold concrete.
Unit 17 was at the far end.
I slid the key into the lock.
It turned.
Inside, cardboard boxes were stacked neatly against the walls. A small desk stood beneath a bare bulb, and a metal filing cabinet occupied the back corner.
Nothing looked valuable.
Then I saw the photograph taped to the desk.
It showed my father standing beside a younger man outside a courthouse.
On the back, Dad had written:
Daniel Mercer, six months before Richard Hale disappeared.
Detective Brooks photographed the image.
"Your father knew this man for years.""
I opened the first box.
Inside were bank statements, printed emails, and folders labeled with dates. One folder contained copies of checks issued to Northbridge Capital Partners.
Another contained a list of names.
I recognized Vanessa's immediately.
Beside it was a second name.
*Ethan Cole.*
"Who's Ethan Cole?"" I asked.
Detective Brooks examined the page.
"I don't know yet.""
I continued searching until I found a thick envelope sealed with red tape. My father's handwriting crossed the front.
For Emily. Only if they deny what happened in October.
I felt a chill.
"What happened in October?""
Mr. Harrison, who had joined us at the facility, looked troubled.
"Six years ago, Michael told me he had witnessed something that disturbed him. He refused to explain the details, but he said it involved a missing man and a financial agreement.""
I carefully broke the seal.
Inside was a handwritten statement, a copy of an old police report, and a photograph of a man standing beside a car with a shattered windshield.
The police report identified the man as Richard Hale.
The date was October 14, six years earlier.
The report stated that Hale had disappeared after leaving a meeting with Daniel Mercer.
But the handwritten statement contained something far more disturbing.
I saw Daniel leave the property that night. Vanessa was with him. They were arguing about the documents. Richard was still alive when I last saw him.
I stared at the page.
My father had witnessed something connected to Richard Hale's disappearance.
And he'd kept it secret for six years.
Detective Brooks read the statement twice.
"This changes the investigation.""
"Did Dad help them?"" I whispered.
"No," Mr. Harrison said.
"Nothing here establishes that. It does suggest he may have been afraid to come forward.""
I looked at the photograph again.
The man beside the shattered windshield was unmistakably the same person who had appeared in the newer photographs.
Daniel Mercer.
Then I noticed a final page tucked inside the envelope.
It was a copy of an unsigned agreement between Northbridge Capital Partners and a private individual.
The agreement referred to a payment of $2 million in exchange for the transfer of certain financial records.
At the bottom, someone had handwritten a sentence.
If Michael speaks, the daughter loses everything.
My knees weakened.
Detective Brooks caught my arm before I stumbled.
"Emily, sit down.""
I lowered myself onto the folding chair beside the desk.
My father hadn't simply been protecting a house or an inheritance.
Someone had threatened me to keep him silent.
And six years later, the same people appeared to have returned for his money.
Mr. Harrison carefully placed the documents into protective folders.
"We need to preserve every page.""
I nodded, barely able to speak.
Then Detective Brooks's phone rang.
He listened for several seconds before his expression changed.
"What do you mean the records have been altered?""
He looked at me.
"Yes. Secure the location. Nobody touches anything until we arrive.""
He ended the call.
"Emily, we have a problem.""
"What happened?""
"The storage company's electronic records show that someone accessed your father's unit yesterday.""
My blood turned cold.
"Yesterday? But Dad's key was hidden in the desk.""
Detective Brooks looked toward the open unit door.
"Which means whoever entered may have used a duplicate.""
May you like
He paused.
"And according to the access log, the person who signed in was Vanessa Walker.""
