Marcus looked toward the locked door.
He could not remain in the building indefinitely.
But leaving without understanding where he was would be dangerous, and he had no idea whether Pike was working alone.
He opened the notebook again and searched for another reference to Thomas Bell.
Near the back, he found an address.
It belonged to a small electronics repair shop on the northern side of Bellhaven.
Beneath it, his father had written six words.
Ask him about the second recording.
Marcus read the sentence several times.
The second recording.
Not the original recording.
Not a backup.
The second recording.
Whatever his father had discovered, it had been important enough to mention repeatedly, yet he had never explained it to his son.
Marcus closed the notebook.
He now understood why Pike had brought it to the depot.
The deputy was not simply trying to intimidate him.
He was trying to find out how much Marcus knew.
And if Pike had discovered the notebook before Marcus did, he might have spent years searching for the same evidence.
Marcus slipped the notebook beneath his shirt.
Then he looked around the room again.
The window was narrow, but its lower frame appeared loose. The office door had a conventional lock. There was no key on the desk, but Marcus had noticed that the building's rear exit opened onto a service corridor.
He did not know whether the corridor led outside or into another locked room.
Still, he needed a plan.
He waited.
Several minutes passed.
Then he heard footsteps approaching.
Marcus returned to the desk and sat down, forcing himself to breathe slowly.
The door opened.
Aaron Pike entered without the paper bag this time.
He looked at the desk.
Then at Marcus.
“Have you read it?”
Marcus kept his expression neutral.
“Some of it.”
“Did you understand any of it?”
“Not really.”
Pike watched him carefully.
“Your father was a complicated man.”
“He was my father.”
“That's not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
Pike pulled the chair away from the desk and sat down.
“I mean that he believed he could change the department by exposing everything wrong with it. He didn't understand that the department was larger than any one man.”
Marcus said nothing.
“Your father thought the truth would protect him,” Pike continued. “He thought that if he documented what happened, someone would be forced to act.”
“Was he wrong?”
Pike looked toward the window.
“Sometimes the truth is only useful when someone is willing to hear it.”
“Then why are you afraid of what's in the notebook?”
The question struck harder than Marcus expected.
Pike stood abruptly.
“I'm not afraid of a notebook.”
“Then give it back.”
“I brought it here because I wanted you to understand what your father was involved in.”
“No. You brought it here because you want to know what I know.”
Pike stepped closer.
“Listen to me carefully. You have no idea how many people have been hurt because your father refused to leave certain things alone.”
Marcus felt anger flare in his chest.
“My father is dead. You can't blame him for everything that happened afterward.”
Pike's face tightened.
“You think I don't know that?”
“Then tell me the truth.”
For a moment, Pike appeared to be considering it.
His shoulders lowered slightly. His eyes moved toward the notebook concealed beneath Marcus's shirt.
When he spoke again, his voice was quieter.
“Your father found evidence that could have destroyed people who had spent their entire lives protecting this county.”
“Who?”
Pike did not answer.
“Sheriff Harlan?”
Silence.
“Aaron, was my father killed because of what he found?”
The deputy's expression changed.
Marcus saw it clearly this time.
Not anger.
Not contempt.
Fear.
Pike looked toward the hallway.
Then he leaned forward and spoke so softly that Marcus almost failed to hear him.
“Your father did not die because of a wet road.”
Marcus felt the room tilt around him.
Before he could ask another question, Pike straightened and moved toward the door.
“Forget what I said.”
“You can't tell me that and expect me to forget it.”
“I can, and you will.”
“Why?”
Pike stopped.
“Because if the wrong person discovers that you know what happened to your father, you won't get another chance to ask questions.”
He opened the door.
Marcus rose.
“Who killed him?”
Pike looked back.
For several seconds, he seemed older than he had when he entered.
“I don't know who delivered the final blow,” he said. “But I know who made sure nobody investigated it.”
Then he left.
The lock turned.
Marcus remained standing in the middle of the room, the notebook pressed against his chest.
His father had not died in an ordinary accident.
Someone had made sure the investigation went nowhere.
And Aaron Pike, a deputy who had helped conceal the truth, had just admitted it.
Marcus had no idea whether Pike intended to help him or was simply trying to relieve his own conscience.
But one thing was certain.
He could no longer think of the notebook as a collection of old notes.
It was evidence.