Chapter 13: The Photograph That Changed Everything
Rebecca Lawson had spent twenty-three years believing her father was dead.
She had buried an empty coffin.
She had watched her mother collapse at a memorial service.
She had grown up listening to people describe Peter Lawson as a brave investigator who had died serving his country.
Now a stranger had left a photograph beside an injured German Shepherd claiming Peter might still be alive.
And Rebecca didn't know whether to hope or be afraid.
"Show me the photograph," she told Emily.
"I'm not touching it," Emily replied.
"It's still on Rex's blanket.""
"Good. Stay where you are.""
Rebecca ended the call and turned toward Michael Grant.
"I want every available image from that clinic's security system.""
"Even the cameras that stopped recording?""
"Especially those.""
Michael nodded.
Travis was already moving toward the vehicle.
"Let's go.""
Rebecca caught his arm.
"Wait.""
"My sister is alone with someone who might be dangerous.""
"She's with Dr. Harris and a state trooper. Rushing in without knowing who we're looking for won't help her.""
Travis clenched his jaw.
"Then tell me what will.""
Rebecca looked at him.
"Finding out who left that photograph.""
The veterinary clinic was surrounded by state police when they arrived.
Emily was sitting in the staff office with her mother.
Darnell stood outside Rex's examination room, his arms folded.
The moment Travis entered, Emily rushed toward him.
He wrapped both arms around her.
"Are you okay?""
She nodded.
"Rex is awake.""
Travis looked past her.
The old German Shepherd was lying on his side, his eyes open.
His breathing was steady.
Darnell knelt beside him.
"Easy, old man.""
Rex lifted his head.
His tail moved once.
Travis smiled.
"Still giving everybody orders, aren't you?""
Darnell gently rubbed his ears.
"He's stubborn.""
"Like his handler," Travis replied.
For the first time that morning, Darnell laughed.
Then Rebecca entered.
"Where's the photograph?""
Dr. Harris pointed toward the examination table.
"It hasn't been moved.""
Rebecca put on gloves and examined it.
The picture showed a man standing beside a chain-link fence.
He was older than the photograph of Peter Lawson from the county fundraiser.
His hair was almost completely gray.
His face was thinner.
But the eyes were unmistakable.
Rebecca stared.
It was her father.
On the back, the message had been written in black ink.
Your father didn't die in the woods. He was taken somewhere alive.
Below the sentence was a location.
*MILLER FARM — BUILDING C.*
Rebecca read it twice.
"Does anyone recognize this place?""
Darnell stepped closer.
"Where?""
She showed him.
His expression changed immediately.
"That's not a farm.""
"What is it?""
"An abandoned agricultural processing facility outside Hattiesburg. Franklin Pierce used to store timber equipment there.""
Travis looked at him.
"How do you know?""
"Our motorcycle club did charity rides through that area. Years ago, we helped a family recover equipment after a storm. I remember the building.""
Rebecca studied the photograph.
"Why would Peter be there?""
Darnell looked at the old dog.
"Maybe because someone never wanted him found.""
Michael returned twenty minutes later.
"I have the clinic footage.""
Rebecca looked up.
"Show me.""
He opened his laptop.
The recording showed the front entrance.
At 10:42 a.m., a man entered wearing a dark baseball cap and a brown jacket.
He walked directly toward the reception desk.
The receptionist spoke to him.
He showed her something.
She nodded.
Then he disappeared down the hallway.
Michael paused the recording.
"There's the identification.""
Rebecca leaned closer.
The man had presented a sheriff's department badge.
"Can you enhance his face?""
"Working on it.""
Michael adjusted the image.
The man's features became clearer.
Travis stared at the screen.
"I've seen him.""
"Where?"" Rebecca asked.
"Outside the diner. During the arrest.""
Michael enlarged the image.
The man had a scar running diagonally across his left cheek.
Emily stepped closer.
"That's him.""
Rebecca turned.
"You're certain?""
Emily nodded.
"He was standing behind Wade that night.""
Travis looked at her.
"Why didn't you tell us before?""
"I didn't remember his face until I saw the photograph.""
Rebecca returned her attention to the screen.
"Can we identify him?""
Michael shook his head.
"Not yet. But I can run the image against county personnel records.""
He typed for several seconds.
Then stopped.
"Agent?""
"What?""
"His badge number belongs to a retired deputy named Nathan Briggs.""
Travis stared.
"Briggs?""
Michael nodded.
"But the photograph doesn't match the current personnel file.""
Rebecca looked closer.
"Show me the file.""
Michael opened another image.
The personnel photograph showed Nathan Briggs with dark hair, a square jaw, and no scar.
The man at the clinic looked similar.
But not identical.
Rebecca frowned.
"Could he be wearing a false badge?""
"Possibly.""
"Who else could have access to Briggs's identification?""
Michael hesitated.
"His former supervisor.""
"Wade Mercer.""
"Yes.""
Rebecca closed the laptop.
"Find Briggs. And find the man in that video.""
At 1:15 p.m., a call came from the state police laboratory.
The technician had examined the brass key recovered from the Cole family Bible.
It belonged to an old First Mississippi Bank safety deposit box.
The box had been opened once.
Three years earlier.
The date was the same day Emily was found.
Rebecca stared at the report.
"Who opened it?""
"The transaction was registered under Peter Lawson.""
"That was impossible. He was officially dead.""
"There's something else. The bank employee recorded a second name as a witness.""
Rebecca leaned forward.
"Who?""
The technician read from the document.
"Samuel Harlan.""
Travis looked toward the door.
"Samuel was there?""
"Apparently.""
Rebecca studied the date.
"Then the box may have been emptied.""
"Not necessarily," the technician replied.
"The bank's records indicate the box was resealed under a special instruction.""
"What instruction?""
The technician paused.
"Only a person carrying the original brass key and providing the correct phrase could reopen it.""
Rebecca looked at Darnell.
"Rex never leaves anyone behind.""
Darnell nodded.
"That's the phrase.""
Rebecca closed the report.
"We're going to the bank.""
First Mississippi Bank had changed ownership twice since Peter's disappearance.
The old safety deposit room was still in use, though most of the original cabinets had been replaced.
A manager named Charles Benton met them in a private office.
"Agent Lawson, I reviewed the records you sent.""
Rebecca placed the brass key on the desk.
"We need access to box 214.""
Benton examined the key.
"That box has been under restricted access for three years.""
"Can you open it?""
"Not without the phrase.""
Rebecca looked at Travis.
He glanced at Emily.
She was standing beside her mother.
"Rex never leaves anyone behind," she whispered.
Benton entered the phrase into the old system.
A green light appeared.
He looked surprised.
"Well.""
He picked up the key.
"Looks like your father planned ahead.""
They followed him into the deposit room.
The cabinet was located at the far end.
Benton inserted the key.
The lock turned.
Inside the box sat a small black notebook, three photographs, and a sealed envelope.
Rebecca reached for the envelope.
Her name was written across the front.
In her father's handwriting.
She froze.
"That's my name.""
Travis looked at her.
"Open it.""
Rebecca carefully broke the seal.
Inside was a single letter.
Rebecca,
If you're reading this, then someone has finally found the evidence I couldn't deliver.
I am sorry I left you without answers. I am sorry I let you believe I was gone.
But there was someone inside the sheriff's department who knew everything I was investigating.
He wasn't working for Franklin Pierce.
He was working for someone much closer to you.
Rebecca stopped reading.
Her hands began to shake.
She turned the page.
There was one final sentence.
The man who betrayed me was the person who carried you into this world.
Rebecca looked up.
Her face had gone completely white.
Travis stared at her.
"Rebecca?""
She slowly lowered the letter.
"My father wasn't talking about Wade.""
"Then who?""
Rebecca looked at the name written beneath the final sentence.
*PETER LAWSON'S BROTHER.*
May you like
She whispered:
"My uncle.""
