Chapter 3: The Photograph From the Last Night
Wade stared at the photograph until the edges began to blur.
The man standing behind Frank wore a police uniform.
His name was Detective Arthur Collins.
For thirty years, Wade had believed Collins was one of the few officers who had genuinely tried to find Frank.
He had questioned witnesses.
He had searched abandoned properties.
He had even attended a memorial service Martha organized after the investigation went cold.
Now Wade was looking at a photograph proving Collins had been with Frank three days before his disappearance.
"What's wrong?"" Martha asked.
Wade didn't answer.
He turned the photograph toward her.
Martha's hand covered her mouth.
"That's Detective Collins.""
"Yes.""
"He told me Frank was probably somewhere in Nevada.""
Wade slowly nodded.
"That's what he told me too.""
Richard moved toward the motorcycle.
"Give me that.""
Wade folded the photograph and slipped it into his jacket.
"No.""
"That belongs to the dealership.""
"It was inside a motorcycle that belonged to Frank.""
Richard pointed at the black pouch.
"And that?""
Wade opened it.
Inside were several folded papers, a small cassette recorder, and an old key attached to a plastic tag.
The tag had a handwritten number.
417.
Martha leaned closer.
"What is that?""
"I don't know yet.""
Richard's voice became sharp.
"Put everything back.""
Wade looked up.
"Why?""
"Because you're destroying the value of a collector's motorcycle.""
Duke laughed without humor.
"Funny. You were pretty relaxed about the value until we found something.""
Thomas stepped forward.
"Maybe we should all calm down.""
Wade turned toward him.
"That's a good idea. Start by telling us what happened on October seventeenth, 1996.""
Thomas looked at Richard.
Richard shook his head almost imperceptibly.
"I wasn't involved," Thomas said.
Martha studied him.
"You were standing outside my house that night.""
Thomas's jaw tightened.
"I don't remember.""
"I remember your truck. Red Ford. Broken left taillight.""
Thomas stopped moving.
Martha continued.
"You parked across the street. Frank came outside. You spoke to him for five minutes. Then Richard arrived.""
Richard slammed his palm against the counter.
"That's enough!""
"No," Martha replied.
"I've been quiet for thirty years. I'm finished being quiet.""
She took a step toward him.
"Where is my husband?""
Richard's face twisted.
"You think you're the only person who lost something?""
Wade frowned.
"What does that mean?""
Richard looked toward the ceiling, then back at Martha.
"Frank destroyed this family.""
Martha shook her head.
"Frank worked every day to keep this family together.""
"That was before he started asking questions.""
"What questions?""
Richard laughed bitterly.
"You really don't know?""
Martha waited.
Richard leaned closer.
"Your husband discovered that our father had been using the family business to move stolen motorcycles across state lines.""
Wade's expression hardened.
"What?""
Richard continued.
"Frank found out years of inventory records had been falsified. He wanted to go to the police. He wanted to expose everybody.""
Martha shook her head.
"Frank never told me that.""
"Of course he didn't. He knew what it would do to you.""
Richard turned toward the photograph.
"And Detective Collins was involved in the investigation.""
Wade stared at him.
"Then why did Collins tell everybody Frank had run away?""
Richard didn't answer.
Thomas suddenly spoke.
"Because Collins was paid.""
Everyone turned.
Richard's face went white.
"Shut your mouth.""
Thomas swallowed.
"He was paid to make the investigation disappear.""
Martha took a step backward.
"By whom?""
Thomas looked at Richard.
"Your brother.""
Richard lunged toward him, but Duke moved between them.
"Don't.""
Richard stopped.
For several seconds, the only sound was the showroom's ventilation system.
Then Martha spoke.
"Richard, did you hurt Frank?""
He looked at her.
For the first time, there was something other than anger in his eyes.
Fear.
"I didn't kill him.""
Wade moved closer.
"Nobody asked if you killed him.""
Richard looked away.
That was enough.
Wade picked up the cassette recorder.
"Does anybody have something we can use to play this?""
A voice came from behind the group.
"I do.""
Everyone turned.
A young woman stood near the entrance.
She was wearing a dark blue jacket and carrying a canvas bag.
Martha recognized her immediately.
"Emily?""
Her daughter hurried across the showroom.
"Mom, what are you doing here?""
Martha's eyes filled with tears.
"I found something.""
Emily looked at Wade, then at the motorcycle.
Her face changed.
"Is that Dad's Harley?""
Martha nodded.
Emily walked closer.
She ran her fingers over the fuel tank.
For a moment, she looked like the little girl who used to sit on Frank's lap while he polished the chrome.
"Where did you find it?""
"Here," Martha whispered.
"Richard had it.""
Emily slowly turned toward her uncle.
"You told me Dad abandoned us.""
Richard rubbed his forehead.
"Emily, you don't understand.""
"You told me he stole money.""
"I was protecting you.""
"From what?""
Richard said nothing.
Emily took the cassette recorder from Wade.
"I have an old tape player in my car. Let me get it.""
She hurried outside.
Richard watched her through the glass.
Then he quietly moved toward the office.
Wade noticed.
"Where are you going?""
"To make a phone call.""
"Stay here.""
Richard smiled coldly.
"You don't give orders in my building.""
He disappeared behind the office door.
Wade turned toward Duke.
"Keep an eye on him.""
Duke nodded and followed.
Martha sat beside the motorcycle, staring at the photograph.
Emily returned with a small portable cassette player.
They placed the recorder on the counter.
The cassette was labeled in Frank's handwriting.
For Martha. Only if I don't return.
Martha's breathing became uneven.
Emily pressed PLAY.
A burst of static filled the showroom.
Then Frank's voice emerged.
Older recordings always made a person sound closer than they really were.
"Hello, sweetheart.""
Martha closed her eyes.
"Oh, Frank.""
His voice continued.
"If you're hearing this, something has gone wrong. I need you to understand that I didn't leave because I wanted to.""
Emily began crying silently.
Frank took a breath.
"Richard knows what I've found. He's been moving the motorcycles through the old warehouse. I have copies of the records, and I've made arrangements to deliver them to someone I trust.""
There was a pause.
Then Frank spoke again.
"There's something else. Martha, don't trust the police officer who comes to your house. He isn't there to help you.""
Wade looked at the photograph.
Detective Collins.
The tape crackled.
"If Richard tells you I'm dead, don't believe him. If he says I ran away, don't believe that either.""
Martha gripped Emily's hand.
Then Frank's voice became quieter.
"There's one person who knows where I'm going. He promised to keep the secret until the right time.""
Wade leaned toward the recorder.
"Who?""
Frank continued.
"His name is—"
A sudden metallic bang interrupted the recording.
There was shouting.
A door slammed.
Then Frank spoke again, much more urgently.
"Wade, if you're listening to this, I need you to remember the night at the river. The red bridge. The man who was supposed to be dead—"
The tape stopped.
Emily pressed PLAY again.
Nothing.
She checked the cassette.
"That's it. There's nothing after that.""
Wade stood motionless.
Martha looked up.
"Who was he talking about?""
Wade didn't answer.
His face had lost all color.
Because he remembered the night at the river.
He remembered the red bridge.
And he remembered the man who had supposedly died in a motorcycle accident in 1996.
A man whose funeral Frank had attended.
A man whose grave Wade had personally visited.
Duke hurried back from the office.
"Richard's gone.""
Wade turned sharply.
"What?""
"He slipped out through the service entrance. Thomas went with him.""
Wade reached for his phone.
But before he could make a call, Emily noticed something written on the cassette label beneath the main message.
A line of tiny handwriting, almost hidden by a crease.
She held it toward the light.
"Mom, look.""
Martha leaned closer.
The words were unmistakable.
If Wade is there, tell him the truth about his son.
Wade froze.
Emily looked at him.
"Mr. Mercer?""
He didn't move.
Martha slowly stood.
"Wade, you told me you knew Frank.""
Wade stared at the handwriting.
Then he whispered something that made the entire room go silent.
"My son died thirty years ago.""
He looked at the motorcycle.
"Or at least, that's what Frank told me.""
And somewhere outside the dealership, a phone began ringing.
It was Wade's.
May you like
The caller ID showed a number he hadn't seen in almost three decades.
*UNKNOWN CALLER.*
