"Because I thought he was."
"You attended his funeral."
"I attended a funeral."
Mason turned.
"What does that mean?"
Ray looked at him.
"The body wasn't Frank's."
Silence filled the room.
Mason slowly sat again.
"Whose was it?"
"I don't know."
"How can you not know?"
"Because the man who arranged the funeral told everyone it was Frank. The police accepted it. The family accepted it. I accepted it."
Ray looked down.
"But I received a letter from him three years later."
Mason stared.
"What did it say?"
"That he was sorry."
Mason laughed bitterly.
"Everybody seems to be sorry after fifteen years."
Ray looked at him.
"There's something else."
"What?"
"Your mother gave me the photograph because she wanted me to keep it safe. She said that if anything happened to her, I should give it to you."
"Why didn't you?"
"Because I thought the danger had passed."
Mason looked at him.
"Where is it?"
Ray nodded toward his jacket.
"In the inside pocket."
Mason retrieved the jacket from the chair.
He found a small envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
It showed a dark road in heavy rain.
A vehicle stood beside the shoulder.
A man was visible near the driver's door.
Mason brought the picture closer.
The man was Frank Dalton.
But he wasn't alone.
Beside him stood Mason's father.
Alive.
And standing beside them was a third person.
Mason recognized him immediately.
Thomas Bennett.
On the back of the photograph was a date.
September 3.
The night his father supposedly died.
Mason looked at Ray.
"Why would my father be standing with Bennett?"
Ray shook his head.
"That's what I never understood."
Mason stared at the photograph.
Then he noticed something in the lower corner.
A reflection in the window of the vehicle.
Someone else was taking the picture.
Someone whose face was barely visible.
But the reflection showed a familiar silver ring.
The same ring Ray had been wearing.
Mason looked up.
"Ray."
Ray's expression changed.
"What?"
"Who took this photograph?"
Ray stared at the reflection.
Then he whispered:
"My brother."
That evening, Mason returned to his house with Leah and Daniel.
The red ledger was locked inside the workshop safe.
The recording was copied onto two separate devices.
And the photograph of his father had been placed inside an envelope.
Mason sat at the kitchen table.
He had not eaten since the previous morning.
Leah made coffee.
Daniel stood near the window, watching the road.
"You should rest," Leah said.
Mason shook his head.
"I've rested enough."
"You can't solve everything tonight."
"No."
He looked at the photograph.
"But I can stop pretending I don't know something is wrong."
Daniel moved toward the table.
"There's a name I need to tell you."
Mason looked up.
"Who?"
"Your mother's brother."
Mason frowned.
"My uncle?"
Daniel nodded.
"Arthur Cole."
Mason sat back.
Arthur had left town when Mason was a child. He had worked in transportation, then disappeared after an argument with Mason's father.
The family rarely mentioned him.
Mason had believed he moved to another state.
"Why are you bringing him up?"
"Because his name is in the ledger."
Mason's expression changed.
"Where?"
Daniel opened the copy of the ledger.
He turned to the final section.
A handwritten entry appeared beside a company registration number.
ARTHUR COLE — ORIGINAL TRANSFER CONTACT.
Mason stared.
"What does that mean?"
Daniel looked at him.
"Your uncle arranged the first transportation contract."
Mason shook his head.
"That's impossible."
"Why?"
"Because he hated Bennett."
Daniel nodded.
"Maybe he did."
Mason looked at the entry.
"Then why would he work for him?"
Leah studied the page.
"Perhaps he wasn't working for him."
Mason looked at her.
"What do you mean?"
"Perhaps he was working against him."
Daniel turned.
"That's possible."
Mason looked at the photograph of his father.
His father.
His uncle.
Thomas Bennett.
Frank Dalton.
Ray's brother.
So many people connected to one night.
So many secrets.
And one question remained.
Who had been taking the photograph?
Mason looked at the silver ring in the reflection.
"Find Arthur Cole."
Daniel nodded.
"I can try."
"No. I want to know where he is."
Leah looked at him.
"Do you know someone who can help?"
Mason thought for a moment.
Then he picked up his phone.
There was one person he could call.
Someone who had worked with him years earlier.
Someone who knew the county's records better than anyone.
A retired investigator named Samuel Price.
Mason dialed.
The phone rang four times.
Then a familiar voice answered.
"Who is this?"
"Sam. It's Mason."
Silence.
Then:
"Mason Cole?"
"Yes."
"Good Lord. I thought you were dead."
Mason looked at the photograph.
"Not yet."
Sam laughed weakly.
"What's going on?"
"I need you to find someone."
"Who?"
"Arthur Cole."
The laughter stopped.
"Why?"
Mason looked toward Leah and Daniel.
"Because I think he knows who killed my father."
There was a long silence.
Then Sam said something Mason hadn't expected.
"Don't go looking for Arthur."
"Why?"
"Because he's been dead for fifteen years."
Mason froze.
"What?"
Sam's voice lowered.
"And if you're asking about him now, somebody has probably already started looking for you."
The name Arthur Cole remained in Mason's thoughts long after he ended the call.
He remembered his uncle as a tall, quiet man who smelled of tobacco and machine oil. Arthur had been his father's younger brother, but the two men had rarely agreed on anything.
Arthur believed people should be judged by what they did.
Mason's father believed people should be judged by what they were willing to sacrifice.
Their arguments had become legendary within the family.
When Mason was seventeen, Arthur had taken him for a motorcycle ride without telling his parents. They had traveled nearly two hundred miles, stopped at a roadside diner, and returned after midnight.
His father had been furious.
Arthur had laughed.
"One day, he'll understand."
Those were the last words Mason remembered hearing from him.
A few months later, Arthur disappeared.
Now Samuel Price was telling him that his uncle had died on the same date as the quarry accident.
Mason called again.
This time, Sam answered immediately.
"Listen carefully," the older man said. "I don't know what you've found, but you need to stop."
"Sam, I need answers."
"And I'm telling you that answers can get people killed."
"People are already trying to kill me."
Sam sighed.
"Then you know I'm not exaggerating."
Mason walked toward the kitchen window.
"Who was Arthur working for?"
"I can't discuss that over the phone."
"Where can I meet you?"
"Nowhere."
"Sam."
"There's something you should understand. Your father wasn't the only Cole involved in this."
Mason closed his eyes.
"What does that mean?"
"It means your family was being watched before your father died."