Chapter 8: The Warehouse With No Windows
Detective Harris immediately called the surveillance team.
“Lock down every entrance. Nobody approaches the building without authorization.””
I stood beside him, shaking.
“Was that really my father?””
He looked at me.
“We're going to find out.””
“I heard his voice.””
“I believe you heard someone who knows your family very well. But we need physical confirmation.””
I hated that answer.
But I understood it.
Within fifteen minutes, we were outside the old Parker warehouse.
The building stood at the end of an industrial road, surrounded by abandoned loading docks and rusted fencing.
Snow had accumulated against the metal doors.
I hadn't been there since I was seventeen.
Dad used to take me there on Saturdays. He would let me sit in his office while he worked, and sometimes he'd bring Toby along to play with the old wooden blocks stored near the back wall.
Now the place looked abandoned.
Detective Harris instructed me to stay behind the officers.
“Do not enter until we clear it.””
I nodded.
The first team approached the main entrance.
A second team moved around the building.
Then one officer called out.
“Door's unlocked!””
Harris raised his hand.
Everyone stopped.
A metallic sound came from inside.
Then a man's voice shouted.
“Stay where you are!””
The officers entered.
I waited outside, gripping my coat.
Seconds passed.
Then a loud crash echoed through the warehouse.
I jumped.
“What was that?””
Harris signaled for me to stay back.
A moment later, an officer emerged.
“Detective, we found someone.””
“Who?””
“Female. Adult. She's in the office.””
Harris immediately moved inside.
I followed despite his warning.
The warehouse smelled of dust, gasoline, and damp wood.
Several old machines stood beneath plastic sheets.
A workbench was overturned.
There were fresh footprints in the snow near a side entrance.
At the far end, a small office door stood open.
A woman sat inside.
She was in her fifties, with short brown hair and a dark green coat.
I recognized her from the photographs in Dad's files.
Margaret Collins.
She looked up when I entered.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then she whispered, “You look just like him.””
I stepped forward.
“Where is my father?””
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Emily, I'm sorry.””
“Where is he?””
“I don't know where Richard took him.””
My hands curled into fists.
“You called me. You sent those messages.””
Margaret shook her head.
“I sent the first one. I didn't send the second.””
Detective Harris immediately turned toward her.
“Explain.””
Margaret looked at the officers.
Then at me.
“Michael contacted me three days ago. He told me Richard had found his location.””
“Why didn't you contact the police?””
“Because Richard threatened my daughter.””
She reached into her coat and pulled out a folded photograph.
It showed my father sitting in a hospital bed.
He looked thinner.
His hair was longer.
But he was alive.
I pressed my hand against my mouth.
“When was this taken?””
“Last week.””
“Where?””
“An apartment above a medical clinic. I was helping him recover.””
“Recover from what?””
Margaret looked down.
“An injury to his head. He was unconscious for several days after the accident.””
My knees weakened.
“Then why did everyone think he died?””
“Richard arranged for another man to be identified as Michael Parker.””
I stared at her.
“Who was the other man?””
Margaret's expression changed.
“He was a former employee of Richard's company. A man named David Mercer.””
Detective Harris stepped closer.
“Are you saying a false death identification was arranged?””
“Yes. Richard had help from someone inside the hospital.””
“Who?””
Margaret hesitated.
Then she whispered, “A nurse.””
I felt sick.
“Why would she help him?””
“Money.””
Margaret opened another folder.
Inside were copies of bank transfers, medical records, and photographs.
“Your father discovered that Richard was using Hale Property Development to move money through several shell companies. When Michael confronted him, Richard arranged to have him silenced.””
“Did you know about the accident?””
“I knew Richard had planned something. I didn't know he'd go that far.””
“Why didn't you stop him?””
She began crying.
“Because I was afraid.””
I laughed bitterly.
“Everyone in this family seems to be afraid while children are paying the price.””
Margaret lowered her head.
“You're right.””
She opened the folder again.
“There's something you need to see.””
She removed a printed photograph.
It showed three people standing outside a hospital entrance.
My father.
Richard.
And my mother.
But the photograph was dated six days after the funeral.
I stared at my mother's face.
She wasn't crying.
She was smiling.
I felt something inside me collapse.
“She knew Dad was alive.””
Margaret nodded.
“She knew.””
“Then why did she let us bury him?””
“Richard promised her that Michael would disappear permanently. He told her she would receive a share of the money once everything was settled.””
I stepped back.
“Money?””
Margaret nodded.
“Your father had discovered that Richard had stolen nearly four million dollars. But there was something else in the financial records.””
“What?””
“A company owned by your mother.””
I stared at the paperwork.
The company was registered six months before Dad's death.
Its name was Parker Family Holdings.
My mother was listed as the sole director.
Richard was listed as its financial adviser.
“Why would they create this?””
Margaret looked directly at me.
“Because your father had transferred ownership of several properties into a trust before he disappeared.””
I frowned.
“What trust?””
“The Parker Children's Trust.””
My heart skipped.
“Who are the beneficiaries?””
Margaret's voice trembled.
“You, Toby, Liam, and Leo.””
I stared at the document.
My father had left everything to us.
Not my mother.
Not Richard.
Us.
Then I understood why the insurance policies had been purchased.
Why the basement had been searched.
Why Richard had returned to the house.
They weren't simply trying to hide evidence of a murder.
They were trying to get control of something worth millions.
“Where is the trust document?”” I asked.
Margaret pointed toward the workbench.
“Your father hid the original in the warehouse. But Richard found out about it.””
Detective Harris approached.
“Did Richard take it?””
Margaret nodded.
“Last night.””
I stared at her.
“Then why did he leave the blue key?””
She looked confused.
“What blue key?””
Before I could answer, a phone began ringing inside the overturned desk.
An officer picked it up.
The screen displayed one name.
*RICHARD HALE.*
Harris answered on speaker.
“Richard Hale. This is Detective Harris.””
A calm voice responded.
“Detective, I think you have something that belongs to me.””
Harris remained silent.
Richard continued.
“Tell Emily that her father is alive. And tell her if she wants to see him again, she needs to bring me the original trust document.””
I stepped toward the phone.
“Richard!””
He laughed.
“Hello, Emily.””
“Where is my father?””
“Somewhere safe.””
“Let him go.””
“Give me the document.””
“I don't have it.””
“Then find it.””
The call ended.
Margaret suddenly stood.
“Wait.””
She rushed toward the workbench and pulled a small drawer open.
Inside was an old envelope.
She removed a photograph of a silver boat.
Then she turned it over.
Written on the back were four words.
*Look beneath the foundation.*
I stared at her.
“What foundation?””
Margaret looked toward the warehouse floor.
“Your father built this place himself.””
May you like
Then she pointed toward a concrete section beneath the old office.
“There's a room underneath us.””
