Chapter 2: The Money That Disappeared
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Travis laughed.
It was a short, ugly sound.
"He's making things up. The kid watches too much television.""
Mason tightened his grip on Cole's vest.
"I'm not lying.""
Cole looked at Travis.
"Two hundred thousand dollars?""
"That's none of your business.""
"You're right," Cole replied.
"But keeping a child locked in a garage might become everybody's business.""
Travis stepped toward them.
Jace immediately moved between him and Mason.
"Take another step," Jace warned, "and we'll have a different conversation.""
Travis stopped.
The garage behind him was dim, crowded with old tires, oil drums, broken equipment, and tools hanging from rusty hooks.
Cole noticed something unusual.
The main garage door had a heavy metal slide bolt installed on the inside.
There was also a smaller side door.
It had a lock.
From the outside.
Cole slowly looked back at Mason.
"How do you sleep?""
Mason hesitated.
"On a mattress in the storage room.""
"Does that room have a window?""
The boy shook his head.
"Does Travis let you leave?""
Another shake.
"Only when he needs something done outside.""
Travis interrupted.
"That's enough. The kid is a liar.""
Cole ignored him.
"Tell me about your mother.""
Mason looked down at his shoes.
"Her name was Rachel. She worked at a dental office in Little Rock. She used to sing while she cooked, even when she didn't know the words.""
A faint smile appeared on his face.
It disappeared almost immediately.
"She got sick when I was twelve. It happened fast.""
Cole waited.
"Before she died, she told me there was money in a trust. She said it would be mine when I turned eighteen, but I could use it for school and living expenses if something happened.""
"Who managed the trust?"" Cole asked.
"My mom's lawyer. Mr. Ellison.""
Travis suddenly laughed again.
"That money was used for his care. Every cent.""
Mason shook his head.
"No.""
"Yes, it was.""
"You told me there wasn't any money!""
Travis's face changed.
Cole noticed it.
So did Mason.
The boy looked at Travis as though he had just remembered something terrible.
"You said Mom was broke.""
Travis walked closer.
"Your mother owed people money. I paid what she owed. I took responsibility for you.""
"Then why did you tell me the money never existed?""
"Because you don't understand adult matters!""
Mason recoiled.
Cole raised one hand.
"Keep your voice down.""
Travis pointed at him.
"Stay out of this.""
Duke, the broadest biker in the group, stepped closer.
"Funny. We were thinking the same thing about you.""
Cole turned back to Mason.
"Do you remember how much was in the trust?""
"One hundred ninety-eight thousand, four hundred dollars.""
"How do you know that exact number?""
"My mom showed me the papers.""
"Do you still have them?""
Mason nodded.
"She made me memorize where she put everything.""
"Where?""
The boy glanced toward the garage.
"In the red toolbox.""
Travis's expression changed so quickly that Cole almost missed it.
Almost.
The man took a step toward the storage room.
"That box belongs to me.""
Mason grabbed Cole's arm.
"No!""
Cole looked at him.
"What's in it, son?""
Mason swallowed.
"My mom's papers. Her letters. And something she said was more important than the money.""
"What?""
"A photograph.""
Travis snapped.
"He's confused. There is no photograph.""
Mason turned toward him.
"Yes, there is.""
"Shut up!""
The shout echoed against the metal roof.
Mason shrank backward.
Cole had seen enough.
He pulled his phone from his pocket.
"Jace, call the police. Tell them we have a thirteen-year-old who may have been unlawfully confined and exploited.""
Travis lunged forward.
"You aren't calling anybody!""
Jace was already dialing.
Travis swung an arm toward the phone, but Duke caught his wrist.
"Easy," Duke said.
"Let go of me!""
"Then stop reaching for things.""
Cole kept his eyes on Mason.
"Is the toolbox locked?""
"Yes.""
"Do you have the key?""
Mason slowly shook his head.
"My mom had it.""
"Where is it now?""
The boy looked uncertain.
"I don't know.""
Travis suddenly pulled free of Duke's grip.
"Nobody is opening that box!""
His voice was louder now.
More desperate.
Cole tilted his head.
"Why?""
"Because it's mine!""
Mason whispered, "No, it isn't.""
Travis turned on him.
"Your mother stole everything from me!""
The words came out before he could stop them.
Cole went still.
"Everything?""
Travis pressed his lips together.
Mason stared at him.
Then the boy spoke.
"You knew my mom before she died.""
Travis said nothing.
"You knew her from before I was born.""
Still nothing.
Mason's eyes moved between Travis and Cole.
"My mom told me something about you.""
Travis took another step backward.
"What?""
Mason's voice trembled.
"She said you weren't supposed to find me.""
Cole looked at the boy.
"Why would she say that?""
Mason swallowed.
"Because she said you were dangerous.""
Cole frowned.
"Me?""
Mason nodded slowly.
"She said the people who knew what happened to my father would come looking for that toolbox.""
Travis suddenly turned toward the garage.
And for the first time, Cole understood that the missing money wasn't the only thing this man was trying to hide.
"Get the boy away from the box!"" Travis shouted.
But Mason was already pointing toward the dark storage room.
"That's where he keeps it.""
Cole followed his gaze.
Behind a stack of tires, something red was barely visible beneath an old canvas cover.
A toolbox.
May you like
And on its lid, someone had scratched three words into the metal.
*NEVER TRUST TRAVIS.*
