Chapter 15 - THE DOOR THAT SHOULD NEVER HAVE OPENED
Jared drove to Oscar's apartment as fast as he could.
Snow covered the streets.
His hands were shaking.
For fourteen years, he had believed his mother died in an accident.
For three years, he had believed his father was simply living modestly.
For months, he had believed his wife was managing the family finances.
Now none of those beliefs remained.
When Jared reached the apartment, the door was open.
The space heater was still running.
The can of soup was still on the table.
But Oscar was gone.
Jared searched every room.
Nothing.
Then he noticed the hidden panel.
It was open.
Inside the secret room, boxes had been moved.
The locked metal case was gone.
So was the ledger.
Jared stood motionless.
Someone had been there before him.
He called Beverly.
"He's missing."
"Who?"
"My father."
"Are you sure?"
"His apartment is empty."
Beverly became silent.
Then she said:
"Jared, there's something you need to see."
She sent him a file.
Jared opened it.
A security recording appeared.
It showed Oscar leaving the bank earlier that morning.
He was walking beside someone.
Jared recognized the person immediately.
Lauren.
But the timestamp was impossible.
Lauren had supposedly been at home at that exact moment.
Jared watched the recording again.
Lauren wasn't forcing Oscar.
They were talking.
Oscar even appeared calm.
Then another person entered the frame.
Jared zoomed in.
His face went pale.
The man was Richard Vale.
The man who was supposed to be dead.
Jared called Beverly.
"Richard is alive."
"I know."
"What?"
"We found him."
Jared froze.
"Where?"
Beverly's voice trembled.
"At a private medical facility outside Chicago."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because he asked to speak with you."
Jared closed his eyes.
"Where is my father?"
"We don't know."
"Where is Lauren?"
"We don't know."
"Then who has them?"
Beverly didn't answer.
Jared heard a sound behind him.
A floorboard creaked.
He turned.
The apartment was empty.
Then his phone received one final message.
No number.
No name.
Just a photograph.
Jared opened it.
Oscar was sitting in a chair.
Lauren stood behind him.
Richard Vale stood beside her.
And between them was a fourth person.
An elderly man Jared had never seen before.
Beneath the photograph was a sentence.
You have spent your entire life asking who stole your father's money.
You should have been asking why your father was being paid in the first place.
Jared stared at the photograph.
Then he noticed the fourth man's face.
There was something familiar about him.
Not from memory.
From the old photograph.
From his mother's documents.
From the ledger.
Jared opened the photograph of Margaret one more time.
He placed the two images side by side.
The resemblance was unmistakable.
The fourth man was Margaret's brother.
Daniel Blake.
The man everyone believed had died forty years ago.
Jared's phone rang.
He answered.
A man's voice spoke.
"You finally understand."
"Where is my father?"
"You'll see him soon."
"Who are you?"
The voice paused.
Then came the answer.
"The person your mother trusted."
Jared's blood ran cold.
"Why did she trust you?"
The voice gave a quiet laugh.
"Because I was the one who saved her."
Jared looked again at the photograph.
At Oscar.
At Lauren.
At Richard.
At Daniel.
Then he noticed something hidden in the corner of the image.
A fifth person stood behind a glass door.
Only half of the face was visible.
Jared enlarged the photograph.
His heart stopped.
He knew that face.
He had seen it every morning for fifteen years.
He had trusted it.
He had loved it.
He whispered one name.
"Lauren..."
The call suddenly disconnected.
Jared stood alone in Oscar's freezing apartment.
Outside, Chicago disappeared beneath another wave of snow.
Inside, the space heater continued humming.
On the table, beneath the can of soup, Jared found a folded piece of paper.
He opened it.
Three words were written in Oscar's handwriting.
Do not trust her.
Jared stared at the message.
Then he noticed something even stranger.
The paper had been written that morning.
And Oscar's final sentence had not been finished.
It ended with:
She knows what happened to Margaret, but she doesn't know that I...
The rest of the sentence was missing.
Jared slowly looked toward the dark hallway.
Somewhere inside the apartment, a phone began ringing.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Jared took a step toward it.
Then the ringing stopped.
A message appeared on his screen.
Come to the old factory before midnight.
Come alone.
And bring the photograph.
Jared looked at the photograph again.
This time, he noticed that the fifth person behind the glass door was no longer hidden.
The face was clear.
It was someone Jared had never expected to see.
Someone who had supposedly died fourteen years ago.
His mother.
Margaret Blake.
May you like
The photograph was dated three days ago.
CUT TO BLACK.
