“Then they won't find them.”
Hale placed the photograph back on the table.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Locate Rebecca. Recover the key. And make sure nobody reaches the archive before us.”
“Understood.”
Caldwell turned.
“Don't hurt her.”
Hale raised an eyebrow.
“That's a change.”
“She is not her father. I don't want another disappearance attracting attention.”
Lang looked uneasy.
“Then perhaps we should consider cooperating.”
Caldwell laughed without humor.
“Cooperating? You think the state will offer us a comfortable way out? They will take everything. The contracts, the money, the political connections. They will drag every name into the newspapers.”
“Perhaps those names deserve to be exposed,” Lang said quietly.
Caldwell stared at him.
For a moment, nobody moved.
Then the mayor said, “You should remember who paid your legal fees.”
Lang lowered his eyes.
Hale picked up his phone and left the room.
Caldwell remained by the window.
He had built his political career by presenting himself as the man who could make things happen. He had promised investors that Brookhaven would become a prosperous city. He had promised residents that neglected neighborhoods would be rebuilt. He had promised the council that every dollar would be accounted for.
The redevelopment project had made him powerful.
It had also made him vulnerable.
Thomas Reed had discovered that the public contracts were being used to funnel money into private accounts. The warehouse operation had been created to move stolen equipment, destroy records, and intimidate anyone who threatened to expose the scheme.
When Reed refused to cooperate, the mayor had authorized an intervention.
He had never expected the situation to become a murder investigation.
And he had never expected a twelve-year-old girl to preserve the key.
At Rebecca's apartment, her mother arrived twenty minutes later.
Patricia Reed was sixty-one now. Her hair had turned almost completely gray, and years of uncertainty had left deep lines around her eyes.
When Rebecca opened the door, Patricia immediately pulled her into an embrace.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
Rebecca held her tightly.
“I found it, Mom.”
Patricia stepped back.
“The key?”
Rebecca nodded.
Patricia looked at it and began to cry.
“I thought he had taken it with him.”
“He gave it to me the night before he disappeared.”
Patricia sat down.
For a long moment, she stared at the small brass object.
“Your father told me something that night,” she said.
Rebecca sat beside her.
“What?”
“He said he had found a way to prove everything. He said there were people inside the city government who were using the police to protect a financial operation. He said a detective was helping him.”
“Paul Mercer?”
Patricia looked surprised.
“Yes. That's the name.”
Rebecca's heart quickened.
“Did you know him?”
“I met him once. He came to our house. He was nervous. He told your father that he had copied some documents and recordings. He said they needed to be stored somewhere outside the police department.”
“Did Dad tell you where?”
“No. He said the location would be revealed only if something happened to him.”
Patricia took Rebecca's hand.
“He also told me that if he disappeared, I should never believe anyone who said he had abandoned us.”
Rebecca looked down.
“I remember.”
Her mother squeezed her fingers.
“I believed him. Every day, I believed him. Even when the police called him a criminal. Even when people told me to move on. I knew your father loved us.”
Rebecca leaned against her shoulder.
“I'm sorry I kept the key secret.”
“Don't apologize. You were a child. He asked you to protect something, and you did.”
A knock sounded at the door.
Both women froze.
Rebecca stood.
“Who is it?”
“Marcus Bennett,” a man's voice answered. “I'm here with David Reynolds and state investigators.”
Patricia released a breath.
Rebecca opened the door.
Marcus stood in the hallway with David. Behind them were two investigators in plain clothes.
“Rebecca,” Marcus said, “we're going to take you somewhere secure.”
She nodded.
“My mother is coming with me.”
“Of course.”
Elena joined them a moment later.
“I'm Elena Ramirez. I'll be coordinating your protection.”
Patricia shook her hand.
“Please tell me you're going to find out what happened to my husband.”
Elena looked directly at her.
“We are. And we won't ask you to forget anything you've spent ten years trying to remember.”
The old municipal records building stood on the edge of Brookhaven's downtown district.