Chapter 3: Locker 317
I kept staring at the photograph until the edges began to blur.
The man beside Malik had my face.
My height.
My shoulders.
Even the scar above his left eyebrow looked exactly like mine.
But I had never been to that storage facility.
I turned the photograph over again.
"Where did you get this?""
Darius crossed his arms.
"Malik left it in my office.""
"Why?""
"He wanted me to find it if something happened.""
I looked up.
"Convenient.""
Darius's jaw tightened.
"You think I killed him, but you're standing here holding evidence he gave me. If I wanted to hide something, why would I hand you that picture?""
"Maybe because you want me looking in the wrong direction.""
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then Renee stepped closer.
"Andre, look at the date.""
I did.
"March eighteenth.""
She nodded.
"That was the night Malik came home with a broken wrist.""
I remembered.
Malik had called me around midnight, saying he'd fallen outside a restaurant. He refused to tell me what happened.
I had visited him the following morning.
His wrist was wrapped, and he had a bruise along his jaw.
When I asked who had hurt him, he told me it was nobody I needed to worry about.
Now I understood why that answer had never felt right.
"Where was I that night?"" I asked.
Renee hesitated.
"You told Malik you were visiting your old friend in Birmingham.""
I looked at her.
"That's right.""
She nodded.
"But Malik showed me a photograph of you at that storage facility. He said somebody had been using your identity.""
A cold feeling moved through my stomach.
Someone had been impersonating me.
Someone who knew my schedule, my clothes, and enough about my appearance to fool people who knew me.
Trey stepped forward.
"Dad said the man who looks like you isn't the person we should be afraid of.""
"What did he mean?""
"He said the person we should be afraid of is the one who knows why you were gone that night.""
Before I could ask another question, my phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
I answered.
"Hello?""
A man's voice came through.
"Stop asking about locker 317.""
I froze.
"Who is this?""
"You have no idea what your brother uncovered.""
"Then tell me.""
A brief laugh.
"Your brother made the same mistake.""
The call ended.
I immediately tried calling the number back, but it was disconnected.
Darius watched my face.
"What happened?""
"Somebody knows we're looking for the locker.""
Curtis looked toward the road.
"We need to leave.""
I turned to him.
"Why?""
He lowered his voice.
"Because if Victor knows Malik's son has the key, this funeral isn't the last time someone will come looking for that boy.""
Renee grabbed Trey's hand.
"We're leaving.""
I nodded.
"You're coming with me.""
Darius stepped in front of us.
"Nobody is going anywhere until we settle this.""
I stared at him.
"Move.""
"Andre, Black Crown needs leadership. Malik is gone. People are scared. Half the organization thinks you killed him, and the other half thinks I did.""
"Then maybe both sides should stop acting like children.""
Darius moved closer.
"Your brother built something bigger than your family problems. You can't just walk away.""
I looked at the coffin.
"That's exactly what I'm trying to protect.""
He stared at me.
Then, unexpectedly, he stepped aside.
"Take the boy. But don't go to that locker without me.""
I didn't answer.
An hour later, I was driving through downtown Atlanta with Renee and Trey in the back seat.
Curtis had refused to come with us. He said he needed to find someone who could verify what he knew about Victor.
I didn't trust that explanation.
But I had bigger problems.
The storage facility stood behind a row of commercial buildings near an industrial district. The entrance was protected by a keypad and two security cameras.
Trey took the brass key from his pocket.
"This is it.""
I parked near the entrance.
"How did your father give this to you?""
Trey looked down.
"Three days before he died, Dad woke me up in the middle of the night. He sat on my bed and gave me the key.""
"What did he say?""
Trey swallowed.
"He said, 'If I can't explain this to you later, find Uncle Andre. Don't let anyone else open it.''"
Renee looked out the window.
I turned toward her.
"You knew about this?""
She didn't answer.
"Renee.""
She finally looked at me.
"Malik told me the locker contained proof that someone inside Black Crown had been arranging the attacks. But he didn't tell me who.""
"Why didn't you tell me?""
"Because he said you were being watched.""
I stared at her.
"By whom?""
She shook her head.
"I don't know.""
I got out and opened the rear door.
"Stay here with Trey.""
Renee immediately protested.
"No. We're coming.""
I looked at the boy.
He was holding the key so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.
I couldn't leave him behind.
We entered the facility together.
The hallway smelled of dust, oil, and old cardboard. Fluorescent lights buzzed above us as we passed rows of metal doors.
Locker 317 was at the very end.
I inserted the brass key.
It turned.
The door rolled upward with a metallic groan.
Inside sat a black duffel bag, a locked metal box, and several folders tied together with a rubber band.
I opened the first folder.
Bank statements.
Photographs.
Copies of property records.
Then I found a photograph of our father.
He was standing beside Victor Shaw and another man outside the old Carter Auto Shop.
On the back, someone had written:
*THE NIGHT RAYMOND DIED, THREE MEN LEFT THE BUILDING. ONLY TWO WERE REPORTED.*
My hands began to shake.
I opened the metal box.
Inside was a small digital recorder and an envelope bearing my name.
Andre.
I tore it open.
Malik's handwriting filled the page.
Brother, if you're reading this, then I didn't get the chance to tell you the truth myself.
You were right not to trust Darius completely. But you were wrong about something else.
The person who betrayed Dad never left our family.
I stopped reading.
Renee covered her mouth.
Trey whispered, "Keep going.""
I looked at the final line.
Before you accuse anyone, listen to the recording. There's something about the night Dad died that you have forgotten.
I picked up the recorder and pressed PLAY.
At first, there was only static.
Then my father's voice filled the storage unit.
"Malik, if anything happens to me, take care of your brother.""
A second voice answered.
I recognized it immediately.
It belonged to someone I had heard speaking at our father's funeral twenty years earlier.
Someone who had hugged me, kissed my forehead, and promised that our family would always be protected.
The recording continued.
"Raymond, you don't have to do this.""
My father's voice became louder.
"You killed my brother. You stole from my business. And now you expect me to keep quiet?""
Then came a chair scraping across the floor.
A heavy thud.
And a gunshot.
Trey began crying.
Renee backed away from the box.
I pressed STOP.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then the storage unit's metal door suddenly slammed shut behind us.
A lock clicked from the outside.
Renee screamed.
I grabbed the handle and pulled.
It wouldn't move.
A small speaker crackled above the doorway.
Then a familiar voice spoke through it.
"Andre, I told you not to look for the truth.""
I recognized that voice.
It was Victor Shaw.
But the next words made my blood run cold.
"Your brother wasn't the only Carter I had to silence.""
I turned toward Renee.
She was staring at the recorder.
Then she whispered:
"Andre... there's something Malik never told you about your father's last night.""
And before I could ask what she meant, a second voice came through the speaker.
A voice I hadn't heard in twenty years.
May you like
My mother's voice.
"Son, if you're hearing this, don't believe what your brother told you.""
