Chapter 9 - THE KEY TO THE OLD WORKSHOP
The key belonged to a storage unit in Indiana.
We found the address through an old receipt tucked beneath the photograph.
The facility was still operating.
The unit had been paid for through an anonymous account.
Adrien's attorney arranged access through the appropriate legal process.
Inside were boxes.
Tools.
Old clothes.
And a workbench.
My father's workbench.
I recognized it immediately.
The scratches.
The faded blue paint.
The small burn mark near the corner.
I ran my fingers across the surface.
For a moment, I was sixteen again.
Watching Dad repair an engine.
Listening to him explain why patience mattered more than strength.
Then I saw the notebook.
It lay beneath a folded tarp.
I opened it.
The pages contained dates.
Vehicle numbers.
Maintenance records.
And names.
Victor Hale appeared repeatedly.
So did several other men connected to the transportation company.
Adrien leaned over my shoulder.
His expression changed.
"This is evidence."
I stared.
"Of what?"
He pointed to a series of entries.
"Your father documented the vehicle tampering."
My heart pounded.
Then I turned the page.
There was a photograph.
My father.
Standing beside a man I didn't recognize.
On the back, someone had written:
THE MAN WHO HELPED ME DISAPPEAR.
Adrien stared at the photograph.
Then whispered:
"I know him."
I looked up.
"Who?"
May you like
Adrien's face went pale.
"My father's former attorney."
