When Dad explained, Calvin was silent for a long moment.
Then he said, “I wondered when this would come back.”
Twenty minutes later, an old pickup truck rolled up to the gate.
Calvin was thin, gray-bearded, and nervous. He unlocked the gate without greeting us.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said.
“We know,” Mara replied.
“No,” Calvin said. “You don’t.”
He led us into the warehouse, past rows of labeled shelves and stacked crates. The air smelled of dust and damp cardboard.
“After the station closed,” Calvin said, “everything went into section C. Most of it got auctioned off. Some lockers stayed sealed because of missing records.”
Dad looked around, pale and sweating.
“Blue door,” he murmured.
Calvin stopped near a row of old storage units.
There it was.
A narrow locker with faded blue paint.
Number 317.
Dad stared at it.
“That’s it.”
Calvin handed him bolt cutters.
Dad hesitated, then snapped the lock.
Inside was a cardboard box.
Nothing more.
My heart sank.
Mara lifted it carefully and placed it on the floor. Inside were old newspapers, a broken flashlight, and a child’s red scarf.
Then Dad reached beneath the cardboard lining.
His fingers found a slit.
He pulled out a sealed plastic pouch.
Inside was a flash drive.
Black.
Unmarked.
For a moment, none of us breathed.
Then a sound came from the far end of the warehouse.
A door closing.
Calvin’s face went white.
“We need to leave,” he whispered.
Mara slipped the drive into her pocket.
We turned back toward the entrance, but footsteps echoed between the shelves.
Slow.
Unhurried.
A man stepped into the light.
Older now, but instantly recognizable from the photograph.
Martin Vale.
He wore a dark coat, his silver hair neatly combed, his expression calm enough to be frightening.
“Richard,” he said. “I was hoping memory would be kinder to you.”
Dad moved in front of me.
“Stay away from my daughter.”
Vale smiled faintly.
“Your daughter has carried Ethan’s little souvenir for a decade. I’d say she’s been involved for quite some time.”
Mara’s hand moved toward her phone.
Vale glanced at her.
“Ms. Chen, I wouldn’t. There are officers outside who still believe I’m a respected man reporting a trespass.”
Calvin cursed under his breath.
My father stared at Vale.
“What did you do to me?”
Vale sighed.
“You were tired, Richard. Guilty. Confused. Men like you are easy to break because you insist on having a conscience.”
Dad’s hands clenched.
“Did I hurt Ethan?”
My breath stopped.
Vale tilted his head.
“You really don’t remember?”
Dad looked as if he might collapse.
Vale stepped closer.
“Ethan came to you that night. He trusted you. He thought you would help him. And you did try.”
He smiled.
“That was the problem.”
“No,” Dad whispered.
“You warned him to run. You gave him evidence. You planned to expose everything together.”
Vale’s voice became colder.
“So I made sure neither of you could.”
Mara spoke suddenly.
“The drive is already uploaded.”
Vale’s eyes flicked to her.
It was only half a bluff. I knew Mara had copied Ethan’s original files, but not this new archive.
For the first time, Vale’s calm expression shifted.
I stepped forward.
“Ethan didn’t run away.”
Vale looked at me.
“No.”
“Where is he?”
Dad turned toward me, horrified.
Vale’s smile disappeared.
“Still asking the wrong question.”
My skin prickled.
“What does that mean?”
Before he could answer, red and blue lights flashed through the warehouse windows.
Police.
Vale relaxed again.
