Caleb almost laughed.
“That's what people say before causing trouble.”
Daniel ignored him.
He walked toward the door.
Caleb grabbed his arm.
“Don't.”
“I need to hear what he wants.”
“From inside.”
Daniel nodded.
He unlocked the first latch but kept the chain secured.
“Martin?”
“Yes.”
“What do you want?”
A long silence followed.
Then Martin said:
“I heard the boy came back.”
Daniel looked at Caleb.
The boy.
After twenty-six years, someone still called him that.
Caleb stepped closer to the door.
“My name is Caleb.”
Martin's expression changed.
“I know.”
“You know me?”
“I knew you when you were ten.”
Caleb's jaw tightened.
“What did you do to my mother?”
Martin looked down.
“I didn't do anything to your mother.”
“Then why did my grandfather—”
Daniel interrupted.
“Martin.”
The older man looked at him.
“You should have told him years ago.”
“Told me what?” Caleb demanded.
Martin sighed.
“Your mother asked me to keep something from you.”
“What?”
“Where she got the money.”
Caleb went silent.
Daniel opened the door slightly wider.
Martin looked between them.
“May I come in?”
“No,” Daniel said.
Martin nodded.
“Fair enough.”
He reached into his coat.
Caleb immediately stepped forward.
Martin slowly removed a small envelope.
He held it up.
“I came to give you this.”
“To me?”
“Yes.”
“What is it?”
“Proof.”
“Proof of what?”
Martin looked at Daniel.
“That your father wasn't the man you think he was.”
Daniel's face hardened.
“Don't talk about my father.”
“You deserve the truth.”
“So does Caleb.”
Martin nodded.
“That is why I'm here.”
He slid the envelope through the narrow opening.
Daniel picked it up.
The envelope was sealed.
There was a date written on the front.
Caleb stared at it.
“My mother died years later.”
“I know.”
“What happened in 1999?”
Martin looked at Caleb.
“Your mother tried to leave town.”
“Why?”
“She believed someone was following her.”
“Who?”
Martin didn't answer.
“Who?” Caleb repeated.
Martin looked toward the dark street.
“People who believed your mother had something that belonged to them.”
Caleb frowned.
“What?”
“A ledger.”
Daniel looked at him.
“What ledger?”
Martin's eyes moved to the old bakery.
“Your father's.”
Daniel's blood ran cold.
“My father had a ledger?”
“Yes.”
“What was in it?”
“Names.”
“Whose names?”
“People who owed him money.”
Daniel shook his head.
“My father wasn't a loan shark.”
“No.”
“Then what?”
Martin hesitated.
“He helped people.”
Caleb looked confused.
“So why hide it?”
“Because some of the people he helped were dangerous.”
Daniel stared at him.
“My father ran a bakery.”
“Your father ran a bakery publicly.”
The sentence landed heavily.
“What did he do privately?” Daniel asked.
Martin looked at him.
“He moved money.”
“For whom?”
“For people who needed to disappear.”
Caleb's expression hardened.
“Was my mother one of them?”
“Yes.”
Daniel turned toward Caleb.
Caleb looked devastated.
“What was she running from?”
Martin's voice became softer.
“Your mother had discovered that someone was stealing from a charitable fund.”
“What fund?”
“One your father had created.”
Daniel looked at the notebook.
The pieces still did not fit.
“My father created a charity?”
Martin nodded.
“Unofficially.”
“Why?”
“To help families who couldn't pay their bills.”
Daniel stared at the old bakery.
Suddenly, memories returned.
His father giving bread to strangers.
His father refusing payment from elderly customers.
His father disappearing for hours on certain nights.
Daniel had always assumed it was simply part of the business.
Now he wondered.
Martin continued.
“Your father wasn't perfect, Daniel.”
“I know.”
“He made mistakes.”
“What kind?”
“Trusting the wrong people.”
“Who?”
Martin looked at Caleb.
“Martin Vale.”
Caleb blinked.
“You?”
Martin smiled bitterly.
“I was one of them.”
Silence.
Martin placed his cane against the wall.
Then he sat down on the step outside.
“I was young. Stupid. Desperate. Your father gave me a job when nobody else would.”
“What happened?”
“I betrayed him.”
Daniel stared at him.
“Why?”
“Money.”
Martin's voice cracked.
“I thought I could take a little without anyone noticing.”
“How much?”
“Enough to destroy everything.”
Caleb slowly opened the envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
Three men stood together outside an old warehouse.
One was Samuel Mercer.
One was Martin Vale.
The third man was someone Caleb had never seen.
But Daniel recognized him immediately.
He whispered the name.
“Richard Holloway.”
Caleb looked at him.
“Who is he?”
Daniel's face had gone pale.
“My father's business partner.”
“You said your father worked alone.”
“He did.”
“Then why is there a partner?”
Daniel had no answer.
Martin looked at both men.
“That photograph was taken one week before your mother disappeared.”
Caleb stared at it.
“My mother didn't disappear.”
Martin looked down.
“No.”