Chapter 5 - THE STORAGE UNIT
Emma called Sophie before opening it.
Her sister was twenty-two now.
Community college nursing student.
Sharp mouth.
Warm heart.
When Emma told her Samuel Ward was real and their father may have been murdered, Sophie said nothing for almost twenty seconds.
Then:
“I’m coming.”
“You have class.”
“Emma.”
Fine.
Two hours later, the sisters stood outside Riverside Storage.
Sophie stared at Samuel.
“You look terrible.”
Samuel almost laughed.
“Thank you.”
“Are you actually homeless?”
“No.”
“Then why—”
Emma interrupted.
“Later.”
Unit 118 opened with a key found in their mother’s old sewing kit.
Inside:
Boxes.
Furniture.
Their father’s work boots.
A Christmas tree.
Two bicycles.
And one locked metal toolbox.
Sophie touched it.
“I remember this.”
Emma did too.
Michael kept receipts inside.
The lock had been replaced.
Samuel’s brass HSW key fit.
Emma stared at him.
“Dad used company locks?”
“He used whatever was free.”
Inside the toolbox were envelopes.
A Harbor Street apron.
Old photographs.
And a cassette tape.
Not payroll.
Audio.
Label:
IF SAM DOESN’T REMEMBER
Samuel sat down.
His hands shook.
They found an old player in storage.
The recording began with Michael’s voice.
Sam, if you’re hearing this, I was right about the pills.
Samuel closed his eyes.
Michael explained that Samuel’s medication had been switched.
A supposed antidepressant prescription included sedative levels far beyond normal.
Dr. Nathan Price—
Leonard Price’s brother—
wrote the prescriptions.
Samuel whispered:
“I trusted him.”
Michael continued.
Vincent is moving the numbers, but he’s scared. Frank is greedy, but he’s not smart enough to build this alone. Leonard is the one making the paper legal.
There.
Leonard Price.
The attorney.
The best friend.
The architect.
Sophie whispered:
“Oh my God.”
Then Michael said:
I copied the transition file. Not keeping it at home. Vincent saw me with it. If something happens, check where Harbor Street keeps what nobody wants anymore.
The tape ended.
Emma frowned.
“Where Harbor Street keeps what nobody wants anymore.”
Samuel knew.
“Archive basement.”
“What?”
The first Dayton restaurant had an old basement where retired menus, equipment manuals, recipe books, and dead corporate files were stored.
Nobody wanted them.
So nobody looked.
Except perhaps Victor.
---
Before they could leave, the storage facility manager approached.
“Emma Carter?”
“Yes.”
“There’s somebody asking for you.”
A man stood near the office.
Tall.
Expensive gray coat.
Late sixties.
Samuel went white.
“Leonard.”
Leonard Price smiled.
“Samuel.”
Sophie whispered:
“Is that the bad lawyer?”
Emma almost laughed.
Leonard heard.
His smile weakened.
Then he looked at Emma.
“You have Michael’s eyes.”
She hated him instantly.
“What do you want?”
“To stop this before more people get hurt.”
Samuel said:
“You mean before you get caught.”
Leonard sighed.
“You still think everything was stolen from you.”
“Wasn’t it?”
“You were destroying the company.”
Samuel stepped forward.
“I built it.”
“And then your wife died and you stopped functioning.”
Samuel went still.
Leonard continued:
“Restaurants missed payroll. Suppliers threatened lawsuits. You disappeared for days. Frank begged me to act.”
“So you drugged me?”
Leonard’s eyes hardened.
“I stabilized a crisis.”
Sophie whispered:
“Wow. That is a psychopath sentence.”
Emma wanted to hug her.
Leonard ignored Sophie.
He looked at Emma.
“Your father refused to understand.”
Emma’s body went cold.
“What did you do to him?”
“I did nothing.”
“His brake line.”
Leonard’s jaw tightened.
Tiny.
Enough.
Emma stored it.
Like she always did.
Then Victor stepped out from behind Leonard’s car.
Alive.
Emma stared.
Victor would not meet her eyes.
Samuel whispered:
“You work for him.”
Victor answered:
May you like
“I always did.”
---
