Chapter 13 - Warehouse 19
The freight yard stretched along the river beneath rows of orange lights.
Warehouse 19 stood apart from the others, its metal doors facing the water.
Detective Sloan positioned officers at every exit. A marine unit waited beyond the pier in darkness.
Rowan approached the side entrance carrying a locked case.
Inside was the replica seal.
He wore a camera beneath his coat.
The door opened before he knocked.
Julian stood inside.
He looked exhausted, as if he had not slept in days.
“Come in.”
“Where is Mara?”
“Close.”
Rowan entered.
The warehouse contained stacks of empty crates and a black vehicle parked near the loading platform. An office had been built along the western wall.
“Open the case,” Julian said.
“Show me my wife.”
Julian pointed toward the office.
Mara sat behind the glass.
She stood when she saw Rowan.
Relief crossed her face, followed immediately by fear.
She shook her head.
Do not give it to him.
Rowan set the case on a crate.
“Let her walk out.”
“She leaves when I authenticate the amendment.”
“Why do you care who inherits?”
“I don’t.”
“Then who are you working for?”
Julian looked toward the office window.
“My father died because Gideon wanted Adrian Vale’s crimes buried.”
“Adrian killed your father.”
“That is Gideon’s version.”
“It is Eleanor’s too.”
Julian’s expression changed.
“You found the letter.”
“Yes.”
“And the photograph?”
“Yes.”
Julian looked almost relieved.
“Then you know about August.”
“You knew I had a brother.”
“I knew there was another child. I didn’t know whether he survived.”
“Elsie saw a man who looked like me.”
Julian stepped closer.
“Where?”
“Calder Street.”
For the first time, Julian appeared genuinely afraid.
“That wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“Who was he?”
Julian looked toward the dark rafters.
“I have never seen his face.”
“But you work for him.”
“He contacted me eleven years ago. He had my father’s records, photographs, and the report Gideon buried. He promised proof.”
“Proof of what?”
“That Thomas Mercer died helping Eleanor escape.”
“Then why attack her family?”
“He said you were not her family. He said Gideon had replaced Eleanor’s true heir with you.”
Rowan stared at him.
“You believed I stole the life meant for August.”
“I believed nothing. I wanted evidence.”
“So you helped isolate Mara?”
“I told myself no one would be hurt.”
“You left two children with Lillian Voss.”
“She was supposed to keep them safe.”
“You knew what she was.”
“I knew what she claimed to be.”
“That is the excuse of every coward who profits from not asking questions.”
Julian looked away.
A sound came from above them.
Metal scraped against metal.
Detective Sloan’s voice whispered through Rowan’s earpiece.
Movement on the upper level.
Julian heard it too.
“He’s here.”
“Who?”
The warehouse lights went out.
Gunshots were not heard. Instead, smoke canisters rolled from the upper walkway, releasing thick white clouds.
Officers entered through the east door.
Rowan ran toward the office.
Julian grabbed his shoulder.
“Wait. The door is wired.”
Rowan stopped.
Julian pulled a cable from beneath the frame, disabling a crude alarm mechanism.
Rowan opened the door and reached Mara.
She threw her arms around him.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“So am I.”
Detective Sloan’s officers cleared the warehouse.
Julian remained beside the office with his hands raised.
A police radio crackled.
“Unknown male exiting west side.”
Rowan saw a figure running along the pier.
Tall.
Broad-shouldered.
Wearing a dark coat.
For one second, the man looked back.
Even at a distance, Rowan saw his own face.
The man jumped onto a waiting boat.
The marine unit pursued, but the boat disappeared into heavy river fog.
Julian stared after it.
“That was him.”
“August?”
“I don’t know.”
A timer began beeping inside the black vehicle.
Officers ordered everyone outside.
In the vehicle, they found no explosive device.
Only a computer programmed to erase thousands of Atlas House files at midnight.
Detective Sloan disconnected it with thirty-eight seconds remaining.
On the screen, one document remained open.
May you like
Its title was:
ROWAN HALE IS NOT THE FIRST SON.
