“There usually is,” Thomas said gently. “Until there isn't.”
Marcus swallowed.
“I don't want his life to become nothing more than a case file.”
“It won't.”
“How can you know?”
“Because you're asking questions. Because your father left evidence behind. Because people who once stayed silent are beginning to speak.”
Thomas paused.
“But you also have to understand something. Your father was more than the investigation. He was your father before he was a witness, before he was a deputy, and before he became a name on a report. Don't let the people who hurt him take every memory you have of him and turn it into evidence.”
Marcus sat quietly with that thought.
He remembered Michael repairing a broken kitchen drawer, singing off-key while making breakfast, and insisting that every family road trip required a paper map even when the car had a navigation system. Those memories seemed small beside the danger surrounding him, but they belonged to a part of his father that the sheriff's department could never alter.
For the first time that evening, Marcus finished a few bites of his sandwich.
Then the secure phone on the table rang.
Thomas answered and handed it to him.
“It's Agent Walsh.”
Marcus took the phone.
“Hello?”
“Marcus, we have new information. A courthouse employee has found a reference to a sealed packet connected to Samuel's case. The record suggests it passed through the county commissioner's office twelve years ago.”
Marcus sat upright.
“Could it contain the missing evidence?”
“It could contain records about the evidence transfer. We don't know yet.”
“My father wrote something about Bellhaven Trust. Does that help?”
“It may. We're trying to establish whether the trust's records intersect with the old property files.”
Marcus glanced at Thomas.
“There was something else in the notebook. My father wrote that the original transfer receipt might not be in the sheriff's department's records. He said to look for the administrative copy.”
Walsh was silent for a moment.
“That could be important. Can you tell me exactly where he wrote that?”
Marcus opened the notebook, which the investigators had returned temporarily for him to review under supervision. He found the page and read the entry aloud.
Walsh asked him to describe the surrounding notes.
There were references to an archive number, a date, and a set of initials that appeared several times in the margins.
“Do you recognize the initials?” she asked.
Marcus studied them.
“R.C.”
“Could they refer to a person?”
“Maybe. But I don't know who.”
“Don't guess. We'll compare them with the records we obtain.”
Before ending the call, Walsh told Marcus that the courthouse employee had identified Daniel Voss as the person who attempted to access the sealed archive.
Marcus felt the blood drain from his face.
“Voss is there now?”
“We don't know where he is at this moment. Our team is contacting the courthouse and coordinating the preservation of the records.”
“Can he destroy the packet?”
“We're taking steps to prevent that.”
Marcus gripped the notebook.
“Please don't let them move it.”
“We won't ignore the risk,” Walsh said. “But I need you to remain where you are. Do not try to reach the courthouse yourself. Let the investigators handle the recovery.”
Marcus reluctantly agreed.
After the call ended, Thomas watched him.
“What's wrong?”
“They might finally have the document my father was looking for. And Voss knows it.”
Thomas leaned back.
“Then the next few hours matter.”
Neither man noticed the small security monitor mounted above the facility's reception desk.
A visitor had arrived at the building's outer entrance and asked to speak to Marcus Reed.
The receptionist requested identification.
The visitor presented a business card bearing the name of a law firm in the county seat. He said he represented the family in a matter relating to Michael Reed's death and wanted to offer assistance.
The receptionist asked whether he had an appointment.
The visitor smiled politely.
“No. But I'm sure Mr. Reed will want to hear what I have to say.”
The receptionist contacted the security officer.
Within minutes, the visitor was asked to remain in the lobby while his identity was verified. He complied without complaint, placing his briefcase on the floor beside his chair.
When the security officer asked why he had come, the man repeated that he represented someone interested in helping Marcus.
He did not mention Daniel Voss.
He did not mention Bellhaven Trust.
And he did not explain why his firm had never contacted the federal investigators handling the case.
When Agent Walsh learned of the visitor, she immediately ordered that no contact with Marcus be permitted until the man's identity and purpose had been established.
The visitor was asked to leave the building.
He did so calmly.
But as he walked toward the parking lot, he took out his phone and made a brief call.
“They have the boy,” he said. “And they know about the courthouse.”
He listened for a moment.
“No, I couldn't speak to him.”
Another pause.
“I understand.”
He ended the call and got into a dark sedan.