Chapter 6: Unit 314
I didn't go home.
I called the officer handling Mom's case and showed him the messages.
He told me not to go anywhere near the storage facility until they could determine who sent them and whether there was an immediate threat.
Normally, I would have listened.
That night, normal felt like something that had happened to somebody else.
Daniel met me in the hospital parking lot.
“You look terrible.””
“I got married today.””
He stared at me.
“Fair point.””
I showed him the photograph.
His expression changed.
“That's Nia?””
“Yes.””
“And Mills?””
“Mom recognized him.””
Daniel zoomed in.
“What are those boxes?””
“Dad's records.””
“How did she get access?””
“I don't know.””
We called the officer again.
This time he agreed to meet us at Hawthorne Storage.
I wanted Mom to remain at the hospital.
She refused.
The doctor discharged her shortly after one in the morning with instructions to rest.
She changed into clothes Daniel had asked his girlfriend to bring.
Sweatpants.
Sneakers.
A sweatshirt.
My mother had arrived at my wedding in formal clothes.
She left the hospital dressed like she was escaping a disaster.
Maybe she was.
Hawthorne Storage sat twenty minutes outside downtown.
Rows of metal buildings stretched beneath harsh security lights.
The manager arrived after police contacted him.
He looked exhausted and annoyed until the officer explained why we were there.
Then he became very cooperative.
“Unit 314?””
He typed into his computer.
His eyebrows rose.
“What?””
The officer leaned closer.
“When was it rented?””
“Eight months ago.””
“By whom?””
The manager turned the screen.
My father's name appeared.
Harold Carter.
My father had been dead for seven years.
Mom whispered, “That's impossible.””
The officer asked, “Who opened the account?””
“Online.””
“Payment method?””
The manager checked.
“Prepaid card.””
“Identification?””
“Uploaded.””
He opened the scanned image.
My father's driver's license.
Expired.
Mom stared.
“I kept that.””
“Where?”” I asked.
“In the drawer.””
The same drawer someone had searched.
The officer's expression hardened.
“Let's see the unit.””
We followed him through the facility.
314 was near the back.
The manager entered an override code.
The lock released.
The metal door rolled upward.
The smell of paper and dust drifted out.
Shelves lined both walls.
Dozens of boxes.
A folding table.
A chair.
A portable scanner.
Daniel whispered, “Someone has been working in here.””
The officer told us not to touch anything.
I stepped inside anyway.
Every box was labeled.
CARTER PRECISION.
TRUST.
REAL ESTATE.
INSURANCE.
MEDICAL.
Medical.
My stomach tightened.
“Mom.””
She saw it.
Her face drained.
The officer opened the box carefully.
Inside were copies of medical documents.
Mom's prescriptions.
Doctor visits.
Insurance statements.
Lab results.
Someone had collected years of information about her health.
“Why?”” I whispered.
Mom didn't answer.
Daniel moved toward another box.
The officer stopped him.
“Don't touch.””
A second officer photographed everything.
The first box they formally examined contained copies of Dad's business records.
The next contained trust documents.
The next contained information about me.
My salary.
My house.
My mortgage.
My retirement accounts.
Even copies of my signature.
I felt violated in a way I couldn't describe.
Then they found the folder.
MICHAEL CARTER — SIGNATURES.
Inside were photocopies of documents I had signed over the years.
Tax forms.
Mortgage paperwork.
Old contracts.
The officer looked at me.
“Did you make these copies?””
“No.””
Mom sat down in the folding chair.
“Michael.””
I turned.
She was staring beneath the table.
A small black trash bag had been pushed against the wall.
The officer pulled it out.
Inside were shredded documents.
And an empty prescription bottle.
Mom's name was printed on the label.
“What medication?”” I asked.
She leaned closer.
“That isn't mine.””
The officer read the label.
“Evelyn Carter.””
“I know.””
Mom shook her head.
“I've never taken that.””
The officer photographed it.
“What is it?”” Daniel asked.
The officer didn't answer.
He sealed it into an evidence bag.
Then the manager appeared at the door.
“You should see the security footage.””
My pulse jumped.
“From when?””
“Tonight.””
We followed him back to the office.
The cameras showed Nia entering the facility at 10:42 p.m.
Still wearing her wedding dress.
I stared at the screen.
She had left the ballroom after I went to the hospital.
She drove directly here.
Ten minutes later, another car arrived.
Gregory Mills stepped out.
They entered Unit 314 together.
At 11:18, they emerged carrying boxes.
My stomach turned.
“Where did they go?””
The manager switched cameras.
They loaded the boxes into Gregory's SUV.
Then something strange happened.
Nia and Gregory began arguing.
No audio.
Only gestures.
Gregory pointed at her.
Nia shoved a folder against his chest.
He threw it on the ground.
Then Nia slapped him.
Daniel whispered, “What the hell?””
Gregory grabbed her wrist.
Nia pulled away.
Then she said something.
Whatever it was changed his expression.
He backed off.
She picked up the folder.
They drove away separately.
“Can you zoom in on the folder?””
The manager tried.
Too blurry.
The officer asked for copies of everything.
I stared at the timestamp.
Nia had been here while Mom was in the hospital.
While I was discovering our marriage was built on lies.
She had been removing evidence.
My phone rang.
Robert.
I answered.
“Michael.””
He sounded panicked.
“What?””
“Nia's gone.””
“I know.””
“No, you don't understand.””
“What happened?””
“The police were questioning her at your house.””
My chest tightened.
“And?””
“They didn't arrest her.””
“Why not?””
“They said they needed to verify everything. She asked to change out of her wedding dress.””
I already knew what came next.
“She left.””
“Through the back.””
I closed my eyes.
“She's with Gregory Mills.””
Robert went silent.
“What?””
“They were together at a storage unit.””
I heard Diane crying in the background.
Then Robert said something unexpected.
“Michael, Gregory isn't just a financial adviser.””
I frowned.
“What does that mean?””
Robert's voice dropped.
“He and Nia used to be together.””
Everything inside me went still.
“When?””
“Before you.””
“How long before me?””
Silence.
“Robert.””
“They were engaged.””
I leaned against the desk.
“Engaged?””
“Nia told us it ended.””
“When?””
“About three months before she met you.””
I thought back.
Five years.
The restaurant where Nia and I first met.
Her laugh.
Our first date.
How quickly we became inseparable.
“Did they stay in contact?””
“I didn't think so.””
“You didn't think so?””
“Michael, I swear.””
I looked at the frozen security image.
Nia.
Gregory.
Together.
“How long have they been working together?””
“I don't know.””
Diane suddenly shouted something behind him.
Robert stopped.
“What?””
I heard them arguing.
Then Robert returned.
“Diane says she knows.””
My jaw tightened.
“Put her on.””
Diane came to the phone.
She was crying.
“Michael.””
“How long?””
“I don't know exactly.””
“Stop lying.””
“About a year.””
I closed my eyes.
A year.
My wife had secretly reconnected with her former fiancé a year before our wedding.
“Were they having an affair?””
“I don't know.””
“Were they?””
“I don't know!””
“What did you know?””
“That Gregory was helping her understand the trust.””
“How did Gregory know about it?””
Diane went silent.
“Diane.””
“Because of Harold.””
My father's name made me straighten.
“What about my father?””
“Gregory worked for him.””
Mom overheard.
“What?””
I put the call on speaker.
Diane continued.
“Years ago. Before Harold sold the company.””
Mom stood.
“That isn't possible.””
“It is.””
“What did he do?””
“Financial compliance, I think.””
Mom stared at me.
“I never met him.””
Diane's voice shook.
“Harold fired him.””
“Why?””
“I don't know.””
Then Daniel pointed toward the security monitor.
“Michael.””
“What?””
He pointed at Gregory's SUV.
“Can you get the license plate?””
The manager enlarged it.
The officer wrote it down.
Daniel was staring at something else.
“What is it?””
“The bumper.””
I looked.
A long scrape ran along the rear passenger side.
Fresh damage.
Mom suddenly grabbed my arm.
“The car.””
“What?””
“The car that left me at the gas station.””
I stared at her.
“That wasn't an SUV.””
“No.””
She shook her head.
“But when I was walking toward the highway, an SUV passed me.””
My skin prickled.
“So?””
“It slowed down.””
The room went quiet.
Mom stared at Gregory's vehicle on the screen.
“I couldn't see the driver.””
Her voice trembled.
“But it followed me for almost half a mile.””
I felt sick.
This hadn't been only about keeping her away from the wedding.
Someone had been watching her.
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number again.
I opened the message.
THIS IS BIGGER THAN NIA.
A second message arrived.
GREGORY DIDN'T COME BACK FOR HER.
HE CAME BACK FOR WHAT HAROLD HID.
Then a photograph appeared.
My father.
Alive.
Standing outside Carter Precision years earlier.
Gregory Mills was beside him.
There was a third man in the photograph.
I didn't recognize him.
Mom did.
She whispered his name.
“Victor Hale.””
“Who?””
She looked at me.
“Your father's business partner.””
I frowned.
“I thought Dad owned the company alone.””
“So did I.””
Another message arrived.
DON'T TRUST THE TRUST DOCUMENTS.
THE ORIGINAL WAS CHANGED.
I stared at the screen.
Then the final message appeared.
IF YOU WANT TO KNOW WHY YOUR FATHER REALLY DIED, FIND VICTOR BEFORE GREGORY DOES.
My hands went numb.
Dad had died of cancer.
I had watched him die.
I had sat beside his bed.
I had buried him.
I looked at Mom.
Her face told me she was thinking the same thing.
May you like
And suddenly our wedding scandal wasn't about eleven million dollars anymore.
It was about a secret my father had apparently taken to his grave.
