Most pages contained numbers.
Flour.
Sugar.
Rent.
Electricity.
Wages.
But halfway through the notebook, Daniel found something strange.
A page with only three names.
Teresa Reed.
Samuel Mercer.
And a third name.
Daniel stared at it.
“What is that?”
Caleb leaned closer.
“Martin Vale.”
Daniel's face changed.
“You know him?”
“No.”
“I do.”
“Who is he?”
Daniel closed the notebook.
“Someone my father told me to stay away from.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
“Daniel.”
Daniel looked at him.
“There are things about my father I never understood.”
Caleb remained silent.
Daniel walked to the back door and opened it.
Cold air entered the kitchen.
“My father died believing I would sell this place.”
“You didn't.”
“No.”
“Why?”
Daniel smiled sadly.
“Because he wanted me to.”
Caleb frowned.
“What?”
“He hated the bakery.”
“That doesn't make sense.”
“My grandfather started it. My father inherited it. He always said he never wanted to spend his life selling bread.”
“Then why did he?”
“Because my grandfather died young.”
Daniel looked across the dark kitchen.
“My father felt responsible.”
He paused.
“Sometimes responsibility becomes a prison.”
Caleb thought about his mother.
Then he asked, “What happened to Martin Vale?”
Daniel shook his head.
“I don't know.”
Caleb opened his mouth.
His phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
His expression changed.
“Who is it?” Daniel asked.
“My lawyer.”
“Do you need to answer?”
“No.”
The phone stopped.
A few seconds later, it rang again.
Caleb rejected the call.
Daniel noticed.
“Is there a problem?”
“Not yet.”
“What does that mean?”
Caleb hesitated.
“Someone knows I'm here.”
Daniel stared at him.
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“You came back to this city without telling anyone?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to see the bakery first.”
Daniel shook his head.
“You're making this sound like a spy movie.”
“I wish it were.”
Caleb pulled a folder from his briefcase.
He placed it on the counter.
“I've been investigating my mother's past.”
Daniel looked at the folder.
“Why?”
“Because after she died, I found documents she had hidden.”
“What documents?”
“Payments.”
“To whom?”
Caleb opened the folder.
There were copies of old bank statements.
Receipts.
Letters.
Photographs.
Daniel looked through them.
Most names meant nothing.
Then he saw one.
Martin Vale.
He looked up.
“Why would my mother be paying him?”
“She wasn't.”
Caleb pointed at the documents.
“Someone was paying him on her behalf.”
Daniel's stomach tightened.
“Who?”
Caleb looked at him.
“Your father.”
Daniel stepped back.
“No.”
“I thought the same thing.”
“My father would never—”
“I don't know what he did.”
Daniel stared at the documents.
For the first time, the image of Samuel Mercer began to crack.
Not completely.
But enough.
Caleb turned another page.
“This payment was made three months before you first met me.”
Daniel stopped breathing.
Another.
Six months later.
Another.
A year later.
The payments continued for years.
Daniel looked at Caleb.
“What was he paying for?”
“I don't know.”
“Then why are you showing me this?”
“Because there was one final payment.”
“When?”
“Three days before my mother died.”
Daniel stared at the date.
Then he noticed something.
The payment had been made from an account belonging to the bakery.
Not Samuel personally.
The bakery.
Daniel's hands became cold.
“That account doesn't exist anymore.”
“I know.”
“How did you get these?”
“My mother kept copies.”
“Why?”
“Because she was afraid.”
“Of Martin Vale?”
Caleb shook his head.
“I think she was afraid of what Martin knew.”
Daniel closed the folder.
“Tomorrow morning, we find him.”
Caleb nodded.
But before either man could say anything else, someone knocked on the bakery's back door.
Three slow knocks.
Daniel froze.
Caleb looked toward the kitchen.
Another three knocks.
Daniel whispered, “We're closed.”
A man's voice answered from outside.
“I know.”
Daniel's face went pale.
He recognized the voice.
He had not heard it in more than twenty years.
Martin Vale.
Chapter 6
The Stranger at the Back Door
Daniel did not open the door.
Neither did Caleb.
They stood in the dark kitchen, listening.
Martin knocked again.
“Daniel.”
The voice was older now.
Rougher.
But unmistakable.
Daniel whispered, “How did he know I was here?”
Caleb looked at the security monitor.
The camera showed an elderly man standing beneath the awning.
Gray hair.
Black coat.
One hand resting on a wooden cane.
He looked harmless.
That frightened Caleb more than anything.
“Do you know him well?” Caleb asked.
“No.”
“But you recognize him.”
“Yes.”
“Your father?”
Daniel shook his head.
“My father knew him.”
Another knock.
“Daniel, I don't want trouble.”