Chapter 3: The Key Around His Neck
The red toolbox was older than Mason.
Its paint had faded in places, and rust had formed around the hinges. A thick brass padlock secured the front.
Cole approached it slowly.
Travis immediately moved to block his path.
"Don't touch that.""
Cole looked at him.
"Then tell us why you're so afraid of it.""
"I'm not afraid of anything.""
"Your hands are shaking.""
Travis looked down.
His fingers were trembling.
He shoved them into his pockets.
"That box contains stolen property. You open it, and I'll have every one of you arrested.""
Jace ended his call.
"Police are on their way. They'll be interested in hearing that explanation.""
Travis looked toward the road.
Then toward the garage entrance.
He was calculating his chances.
Cole recognized the look.
He had seen it on men who knew their lies were running out.
Mason stepped closer to the toolbox.
"My mom told me not to let him open it.""
Cole crouched beside him.
"Did she tell you what was inside?""
"She said there was proof.""
"Proof of what?""
Mason shook his head.
"She said I'd understand when I was old enough.""
Cole examined the padlock.
"Do you know where the key is?""
"No.""
"Think carefully.""
Mason pressed his lips together.
His eyes drifted toward the floor.
Then, slowly, his hand moved beneath his shirt.
He pulled out a thin chain.
Hanging from it was a small silver necklace.
The pendant looked like a tiny antique key.
Cole stared at it.
"Where did you get that?""
"My mom gave it to me before she died.""
"Does it open the toolbox?""
Mason looked down at the pendant.
"I don't know. She told me never to take it off.""
Travis suddenly charged.
"Give me that!""
Jace caught him around the chest.
Travis struggled violently.
"That's mine! The necklace belongs to me!""
Mason backed away, clutching the pendant.
Cole stood.
"Why does a necklace belonging to you have this boy's mother's name engraved on the back?""
Travis froze.
Cole had noticed the tiny letters.
Rachel.
The biker held out his hand.
"Mason, may I see it?""
The boy hesitated.
Then he placed the chain in Cole's palm.
The pendant was cold and surprisingly heavy.
Cole turned it over.
On the reverse side were three small engraved initials.
R.B.
Cole's face changed.
He looked at Mason.
"Did your mother ever tell you what those letters meant?""
Mason shook his head.
Travis began struggling again.
"Don't open that box!""
Duke tightened his grip.
"You're making yourself look worse every second.""
Cole examined the pendant against the padlock.
The tiny key fit.
He turned it.
Click.
The lock opened.
For a moment, everyone stared at the toolbox.
Mason took a nervous breath.
Cole lifted the lid.
Inside lay several envelopes, a folded legal document, a small leather journal, and an old photograph protected by a plastic sleeve.
There was also a sealed envelope with Mason's name written across it in careful handwriting.
Mason recognized the handwriting immediately.
"That's Mom's.""
He reached for it, but Cole gently stopped him.
"Let's see what else she left.""
The biker lifted the photograph.
It showed a young man standing beside a motorcycle, smiling at the camera.
He had dark hair, a crooked grin, and one arm wrapped around a baby.
The infant wore a little blue sweater.
Cole stared.
His breathing stopped.
The photograph slipped slightly between his fingers.
Jace noticed.
"What's wrong?""
Cole didn't answer.
He turned the photograph over.
On the back, written in faded black ink, were the words:
My son, Mason, with his father. June 2012.
Cole felt the blood drain from his face.
He knew the man in the photograph.
He knew the motorcycle.
He knew the crooked grin.
He knew the scar above the man's left eyebrow.
"That's impossible," he whispered.
Mason looked up.
"What?""
Cole turned the photograph toward him.
"Where did your mother get this?""
Mason stared at the picture.
"She kept it in her bedroom. She said it was the only picture she had of my dad.""
Cole's fingers tightened around the plastic sleeve.
"What's his name?""
"Daniel.""
Cole closed his eyes.
Daniel Bennett.
His younger brother.
Fourteen years earlier, Daniel had disappeared after a late-night ride through Arkansas.
His motorcycle had been found abandoned near an old logging road.
There had been no body.
No witnesses.
No explanation.
The family had spent months searching before eventually accepting that Daniel was probably dead.
Cole had never accepted it.
He had kept his brother's photograph in his wallet for fourteen years.
Now that same face was staring back at him from a photograph of a baby he had never known existed.
Cole looked at Mason.
"Your father was Daniel Bennett?""
Mason nodded.
"Mom said his name was Daniel.""
Cole sat back on his heels.
Jace moved closer.
"Brother?""
Cole nodded once.
"My brother.""
The garage went silent.
Travis suddenly jerked away from Duke and bolted toward the side entrance.
Duke grabbed at his shirt but caught only the fabric as it tore.
Travis stumbled outside.
"STOP HIM!"" Mason screamed.
Jace sprinted after him.
The sound of heavy boots struck the concrete.
A motorcycle engine started somewhere outside, then immediately died.
Within seconds, Jace returned, dragging Travis by the back of his shirt.
"Going somewhere?""
Travis kicked and cursed.
"Get your hands off me!""
Cole didn't even look at him.
He was staring at the toolbox.
The legal papers inside carried the seal of an Arkansas law office.
One document was a certified copy of a birth certificate.
Another was a letter dated three weeks before Rachel's death.
Cole picked it up.
The first line made his hands shake.
To my son Mason, if anything happens to me, remember that your father did not abandon you.
Cole looked up.
Mason was watching him.
"What does it say?""
Cole read the next line.
Daniel discovered what happened at the garage. He tried to tell the police, but someone stopped him before he could speak.
Cole's eyes moved to the bottom of the page.
There was a name.
Not Daniel's.
Not Rachel's.
A name belonging to someone who had worked at the very garage where Mason had been held for nearly a year.
Cole turned toward Travis.
"Who else knew about this?""
Travis said nothing.
Mason stepped forward.
His eyes were fixed on the man.
"My mom told me something else.""
Cole lowered the letter.
"What?""
Mason pointed at Travis.
"She said the man who took my father wasn't the man who buried him.""
Cole's face hardened.
"Then who was?""
Mason looked toward the back of the garage.
"There was another man.""
"Who?""
The boy's voice broke.
"She said he was the person who owned this garage before Travis.""
Cole stared at him.
"Do you know his name?""
Mason nodded.
Then he looked at the photograph one more time.
And whispered:
"Your father.""
Cole went completely still.
His own father had been dead for six years.
But Mason was shaking his head.
"Not your dad now. Your dad's dad. My mom said Grandpa Bennett knew Daniel was still alive when everybody else thought he was dead.""
Cole felt the room tilt.
Before he could ask another question, Mason reached into the toolbox and pulled out the sealed envelope bearing his name.
"Mom said I had to give you this if I ever met someone from the Bennett family.""
Cole took it carefully.
The envelope was sealed with red wax.
Across the front, Rachel had written one final sentence.
Cole, if you are reading this, the man who buried your brother is still alive.
Cole looked toward Travis.
For the first time since arriving at the gas station, the older biker felt genuinely afraid.
Because Travis wasn't looking at him anymore.
He was staring at the envelope.
And he was smiling.
"You're too late, Bennett," Travis whispered.
May you like
Then he said the one thing that made Mason scream again.
"Your brother isn't the only one we buried.""
