"No. I recognize that number."
Marcus turned toward him.
"From where?"
"Daniel's locker at the precinct."
For several seconds, the room was silent.
Marcus remembered the note.
The truth is not where they hid the evidence. It is where they never thought to look.
He thought of the old brass key, the metal toolbox in his father's garage, and the childhood secret Daniel had never explained.
Suddenly, the pieces seemed to point toward something he had overlooked for years.
"My brother's locker was numbered 714," Marcus said.
Sloane stared at him.
"You're certain?"
"I remember it from the photograph taken at his retirement ceremony. He had been promoted to detective shortly before the Avery case, and his locker number was visible behind him."
"But the locker would have been emptied after his death," Elena said.
"Probably."
Marcus rose.
"Unless someone thought it was too ordinary to search carefully."
Miriam closed the ledger.
"You intend to return to the department tonight?"
"Yes."
"Then you should know that the man who came to my house last week was not the only person looking for these records."
Marcus stopped.
"What do you mean?"
Miriam walked toward the living room and returned with a small envelope.
"Three days ago, I received this letter. It was delivered by hand. No return address."
Marcus opened it.
Inside was a single sheet of paper bearing a typed message.
Stop searching for the missing report. The people who buried it are no longer your greatest danger. The people who want it found are worse.
At the bottom was a handwritten signature.
N. Cross.
Marcus looked up.
"Commissioner Cross sent this?"
"I believe so."
"Why would he warn you?"
Miriam shook her head.
"I don't know whether it was a warning or a threat."
Sloane studied the letter.
"It could be genuine. Cross has been ill for several months. If he believes the people he once protected are preparing to eliminate the remaining witnesses, he may be trying to distance himself from what happened."
"Or he may be trying to make us walk into a trap," Marcus replied.
Elena folded the letter and placed it back in the envelope.
"Either way, we cannot ignore it."
Marcus checked his watch.
The afternoon was disappearing, and the rain had become heavier. He needed to get Miriam somewhere safe, secure the documents, and determine whether Daniel's old locker still existed.
But before he could make a plan, his phone vibrated.
The signal had returned.
A message appeared on the screen from an unknown number.
It contained a photograph.
Marcus opened it.
For a moment, he could not understand what he was seeing.
The image showed a small metal toolbox sitting on a wooden workbench. Its surface was covered with dust, and a faded sticker remained on the lid.
Marcus recognized the toolbox immediately.
It belonged to his father.
But the photograph had not been taken in the garage where he remembered storing it. The walls were concrete, and a narrow fluorescent light hung above the bench.
Someone had written a message beneath the photograph.
You have the key. We have the box. Come alone if you want to know what your brother died protecting.
Marcus stared at the screen.
Elena stepped beside him.
"What is it?"
He showed her the photograph.
Her expression changed instantly.
"Marcus, don't go."
He looked at her.
"I wasn't planning to."
But as he studied the image, he noticed something in the background.
A steel door.
A faded yellow sign.
And a number painted in black above the handle.
D-14.
Marcus felt the room tilt around him.
The archive storage facility.
The place where the missing evidence had supposedly been transferred.
The place Daniel had identified in the intake ledger.
Someone had taken his father's toolbox there, or at least wanted him to believe they had.
He looked at Sloane.
"Do you recognize this location?"
Sloane examined the photograph.
Then all the color drained from his face.
"Yes."
"Where is it?"
Sloane hesitated.
"An abandoned records depot beneath the old courthouse."
Marcus slipped his phone into his pocket.
"Then that's where we're going."
Elena caught his arm.
"You're walking into a place chosen by someone who knows exactly what you're investigating."
"I know."
"They may have weapons."
"I know."
"They may be expecting you."
Marcus looked at her.
"They already are."
He turned toward the door, but Sloane stood up.
"If you go there, you're going to need someone who knows the building."
Marcus looked at him coldly.
"Why should I trust you?"
"You shouldn't," Sloane replied. "But you should understand that the people waiting inside that building have spent seventeen years trying to erase the same evidence. If they have your father's toolbox, they may have found something they weren't supposed to find."
Marcus thought of Daniel's note.
The truth is not where they hid the evidence. It is where they never thought to look.
He had always assumed the key opened a compartment in the old toolbox.