Chapter 19: The Man Who Tried to Come Home
The gunfire stopped as suddenly as it had begun.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Agent Collins crouched beside me, one hand pressed against her radio.
"Perimeter team, report.""
Static.
"North entrance, report.""
Nothing.
Then a voice crackled through the channel.
"One officer injured. Suspect vehicle departing eastbound. We have no visual on the second individual.""
Michael had escaped.
Again.
I looked toward the depot.
"Daniel?""
Price was sitting against the concrete barrier, clutching his side. His face was pale, but he was conscious.
"I'm okay.""
"You're bleeding.""
"It's nothing.""
Agent Collins signaled for a medic.
I reached for the photograph lying near the entrance. An investigator retrieved it and passed it to me.
My father's handwriting was unmistakable.
If Jessica ever finds this, tell her I tried to come home.
I turned it over.
There was another line beneath the first.
*Daniel knows where the original records are.*
I looked at Price.
"What original records?""
He closed his eyes.
"The ones your father collected.""
"Where are they?""
"Your father gave them to my father before he died.""
I stared at him.
"Your father was involved?""
Price nodded.
"He worked in transportation security. He helped your father identify shipments that were being redirected. They believed the people behind it were using personnel transfers to move restricted equipment.""
"Why didn't you tell anyone?""
"I was a kid when my father died. I didn't know what he was involved in until years later.""
He swallowed.
"After I joined the service, I found a reference to his investigation. I started looking into it.""
"And that's when they took you?""
"Yes.""
He looked toward the depot.
"Voss found out. He told me my father had stolen something valuable and that I could help recover it.""
"What did he want?""
"The original Project Lantern archive.""
I felt a chill.
"Where is it?""
Price looked at me.
"Your father hid it somewhere nobody would think to look.""
"Where?""
He hesitated.
"At your old house.""
I frowned.
"Which house?""
"The one you lived in with your father.""
I shook my head.
"That house was sold years ago.""
"Not the house itself. The property.""
Agent Collins joined us.
"Explain.""
Price took a breath.
"Your father owned a small workshop behind the house. It was listed separately in the property records. After his death, the main house was sold, but the workshop remained under a family trust.""
My mother had never mentioned a workshop.
"Who controls it now?""
"Nobody officially. The property taxes are paid through an old account.""
Agent Collins stood.
"Can you give us the address?""
Price nodded.
"I can.""
A medic arrived and began treating his wound.
I looked at the photograph again.
My father had tried to come home.
I wondered whether he'd known that he wouldn't make it.
Or whether he'd believed there was still time.
"Jessica," Price said quietly.
I turned.
"There's something else.""
"What?""
"Your father didn't trust Hayes.""
I looked at him.
"But the photograph—"
"He met Hayes because he thought Hayes could help him expose the network. By the time he realized Hayes was involved, it was too late.""
Agent Collins listened carefully.
"Did you witness this?""
"No. My father told me before he died. He said David Hayes was the person who made the original records disappear.""
I looked toward the dark depot.
"Then why did Hayes keep helping us investigate?""
Price gave a bitter smile.
"Because he needed to know how much we had found.""
Agent Collins turned toward the investigators.
"We're moving the team to the workshop. Nobody enters without a warrant and evidence protection.""
I followed her to the vehicle.
On the way, I called my mother.
She answered immediately.
"Jessica?""
"I'm okay.""
"Where are you?""
"With the investigators. Mom, did Dad ever have a workshop behind the old house?""
She went silent.
Then she whispered, "Yes.""
"Why didn't you tell me?""
"Because I thought it had been emptied.""
"Did Dad keep records there?""
"I don't know.""
I looked out the window.
"Mom, did he ever say he was afraid of Hayes?""
Another silence.
Then her voice broke.
"Yes.""
I closed my eyes.
"What did he tell you?""
"He said Hayes had become involved with people who were stealing government equipment. He wanted to report it, but he needed proof.""
"Did he ever say he was going to meet him?""
"That night.""
I swallowed.
"Did Dad leave anything for me?""
My mother began crying.
"He left a little wooden box. I found it in the workshop after the funeral.""
"Where is it?""
"I gave it to Marcus.""
I gripped the phone.
"Why?""
"He told me it contained personal papers. He said he'd keep it safe.""
I stared at the dashboard.
Marcus had been given another piece of my father's history.
Another thing he hadn't told us.
"Did you ever see it again?""
"No.""
I ended the call.
Agent Collins glanced at me.
"What's wrong?""
"Marcus has something my father left behind.""
She immediately contacted the facility where Marcus was being held.
A few minutes later, the answer came back.
Marcus had requested access to his personal property that afternoon.
A small wooden box had been included in the inventory.
But it was missing.
Someone had signed it out.
The signature belonged to a man using the name Thomas Bennett.
Major Bennett.
I looked at Collins.
"He has the box.""
"Then we'll find him.""
We reached the old property shortly before dawn.
The workshop stood behind a line of overgrown trees. Its windows were boarded, and the wooden door had begun to rot.
The investigators secured the area.
I waited until Agent Collins gave the signal.
Then we entered.
Dust covered the floor.
A workbench stood against the back wall. Old tools hung in neat rows. On a shelf was a faded photograph of my father holding me as a little girl.
I picked it up.
For a moment, I forgot everything else.
Then Price spoke from behind me.
"Look underneath the workbench.""
I crouched.
A metal plate had been fitted into the floor.
An investigator examined it and found a small lock.
Agent Collins looked at the photograph of the key my mother had given us.
"Try it.""
The key turned.
The plate opened.
Inside was a narrow compartment containing a sealed envelope and a small black storage device.
The envelope had my name on it.
I opened it.
There was only one page.
Jessica,
If you have found this, then the people I feared have reached the people I love.
I couldn't protect you from the truth forever. I can only hope you are strong enough to decide what to do with it.
The records on this device identify everyone involved in the transfers, including the person who authorized the operation that ended my life.
But there is one thing you must understand.
The person who gave the final order was not the person who planned everything.
Find the original authorization.
Then you'll know who betrayed us.
I lowered the letter.
Agent Collins examined the device.
"We'll have this analyzed immediately.""
Price looked at the compartment.
"There's something else.""
He pointed toward the underside of the plate.
A second envelope had been taped there.
It contained a single photograph.
My father stood beside a man whose face had been deliberately scratched out.
On the back was a date.
The night he died.
And beneath it:
*LAST MEETING — 10:15 P.M.*
Agent Collins checked the old accident report.
"The accident was recorded at 11:42.""
I stared at the photograph.
"Whoever this man was, he met my father less than ninety minutes before the crash.""
Price looked at me.
"I think I know who it is.""
He pointed to the man's hand.
A distinctive ring was visible.
A silver ring with a small black emblem.
The same symbol we'd found on Thomas Keller's lapel pin.
Project Mirror.
Then an investigator hurried into the workshop.
"Agent Collins. We have a call from the holding facility.""
"What happened?""
"Major Bennett has been found unconscious in his cell.""
My stomach tightened.
"Is he alive?""
"Yes. But there's a problem.""
"What?""
"He left a message before he was discovered.""
The investigator handed Collins a printed note.
Three words had been written in hurried handwriting.
*Warren is dead.*
Agent Collins looked up.
Then her phone rang.
She listened for several seconds.
Her expression changed.
"Where?""
A pause.
"Understood.""
She ended the call.
I stared at her.
"What happened?""
"Deputy Director Warren was found dead at his residence.""
I felt the room tilt.
"Was it an accident?""
Collins looked at me.
"No.""
May you like
She held up the photograph.
"And whoever killed him may be the same person who killed your father.""
