Chapter 3 - The Photograph That Should Not Exist)
The nine numbers belonged to a safe-deposit box.
Detective Coleman discovered that before sunrise.
The box was registered at a small bank forty miles outside the city under the name Matthew Bell.
Matthew was Michael's middle name.
Bell had been Jenna's maiden name.
Mark sat in the police station at six in the morning with a paper cup of coffee untouched in front of him.
Noah was sleeping at Mark's mother-in-law's house.
Abigail remained at the hospital under police protection.
Lauren was being held in an interview room.
Mark had not spoken to her since the kitchen.
Coleman placed a copy of the deposit-box record on the table.
“It was opened eighteen months after the fire.”
“By who?”
“We don't know yet. The signature resembles Michael's.”
Mark rubbed his eyes.
“My brother is dead.”
“Are you certain?”
“I saw his body.”
Coleman waited.
Mark corrected himself.
“I saw a body.”
“Identification?”
“Dental records.”
“Who provided the dental records?”
Mark tried to remember.
The fire investigation had been chaos.
Insurance agents.
Police.
Hospital staff.
Lauren helping arrange documents.
Then Mark remembered.
“Lauren.”
Coleman said nothing.
Mark stood.
“No.”
“Sit down.”
“She handled the company insurance. She knew where everything was.”
“Yes.”
“You think she switched his dental records?”
“I think we need evidence before deciding anything.”
Mark paced to the wall.
For four years he had carried the memory of Michael's funeral.
Two identical brothers reduced to one.
He had hated himself for being alive.
Michael had called him three times the night of the fire.
Mark had been in a movie theater with Noah and had not answered.
He still had the voicemails.
The first was silent.
The second contained background noise.
The third was only three words.
Mark, call me.
Mark had listened to it hundreds of times.
Coleman asked, “Why might Michael have been afraid of Lauren?”
Mark turned.
“I don't know.”
“She handled company finances.”
“Yes.”
“Was money missing?”
“Not that I knew.”
“Any disputes?”
Mark hesitated.
There had been something.
A month before the fire, Michael had insisted they delay plans to expand the company.
Mark had been angry.
Michael had refused to explain.
He said he had found an accounting issue.
Mark had assumed it was ordinary bookkeeping.
Lauren told him she had fixed it.
After the fire, Mark forgot about it.
Now he remembered Michael's exact words.
Something isn't right with the money.
Coleman watched his face.
“You remembered something.”
Mark nodded slowly.
She wrote it down.
At eight-thirty, a judge approved access to the deposit box because it might involve a missing child and an active criminal investigation.
Mark insisted on going.
The bank manager led Coleman and Mark into a private viewing room.
The metal box was narrow and heavier than Mark expected.
Coleman photographed the seal.
Then opened it.
Inside were four objects.
A flash drive.
A set of keys.
A stack of financial statements.
And an envelope addressed to Mark.
Mark's hands shook as he lifted it.
The handwriting was Michael's.
Not similar.
Not almost identical.
Michael's.
Mark opened the envelope.
The letter contained a date.
February 12.
Two years after the fire.
Mark stopped reading.
“This is impossible.”
Coleman remained silent.
He forced himself to continue.
Mark,
If you are reading this, then either I finally found a way home or I failed.
Do not assume anyone is who you think they are.
Jenna got Ava out.
I don't know where they took her.
Lauren knows more than she admits.
If she tells you she was protecting you, ask her why Victor Hale was paid from Bennett Residential three weeks before the fire.
Ask her why she changed the insurance records.
Ask her why she told you there was nothing left to investigate.
Most importantly, do not let her know you found this until you know where Ava is.
Mark stopped.
He could not see the words anymore.
Coleman gently took the letter.
She continued silently.
Mark stared at the wall.
Two years after the fire.
Michael had been alive.
At least then.
Coleman plugged the flash drive into an isolated police laptop.
There were six folders.
Financial records.
Photographs.
Scanned documents.
One audio file.
One video file.
And one folder named For Mark.
Coleman opened the video.
Michael appeared on screen.
Mark made a sound that he would later be unable to describe.
Michael looked thinner.
His beard was longer.
There was a bruise near his temple.
But he was alive.
The date stamp showed the recording had been created twenty-two months after the fire.
Michael looked directly into the camera.
“If you're seeing this, Mark, then I didn't make it back.”
Mark covered his mouth.
Michael continued.
“I'm sorry.”
The screen flickered.
“I know what the fire looked like. I know what they told you. It was supposed to look final.”
Mark leaned closer.
Michael's eyes were exhausted.
“Lauren didn't start this.”
Mark froze.
“She covered it up. That's different. Maybe worse in some ways. But Victor Hale started it.”
Coleman glanced at Mark.
Michael continued.
“Victor was moving money through our company. Lauren discovered it before I did. She helped him hide it because he had something on her father. Then I found the accounts.”
Michael looked away from the camera.
“I confronted her.”
A long silence.
“She begged me to wait. I didn't.”
Michael's voice cracked.
“The fire came three days later.”
Mark's entire body went cold.
Michael leaned toward the camera.
“Jenna survived. Ava survived. I survived.”
Mark stopped breathing.
“But they separated us.”
The video ended abruptly.
Mark stared at the black screen.
Coleman immediately tried the next file.
Corrupted.
Another.
Empty.
Then a final text document opened.
Only one line.
Jenna is alive.
Mark looked at Coleman.
“Find her.”
Coleman nodded.
Then her phone rang.
She listened for fifteen seconds.
Her expression changed.
“What?”
She hung up.
Mark knew before she spoke that something had happened.
“What is it?”
Coleman closed the laptop.
“Lauren Bennett just asked to speak with you.”
“Why?”
“She says Victor Hale knows Abigail is at the hospital.”
Mark stood.
May you like
Coleman continued.
“And according to Lauren, the girl isn't the only person he's coming for.”
