Chapter 8 - Pier 19
Detective Brooks told me not to go.
I went anyway.
She knew I would.
So instead of wasting time arguing, she put a tracker in my shoe and told me not to be a hero.
“Heroes die first,” she said.
“I’m a father.”
“Same problem.”
Pier 19 sat on the old industrial waterfront, a graveyard of rusted warehouses and shipping containers.
Midnight.
Cold rain.
I carried the flash drive in my inside pocket.
The real one.
Brooks had wanted me to take a copy.
I refused.
Whoever had Noah knew too much. If they checked, I couldn’t risk it.
A warehouse door stood open.
I went inside.
One hanging work light swung above the concrete.
Anna sat in a chair.
Still tied.
“Noah?”
She shook her head.
“They moved him.”
“Who?”
A man stepped from behind a container.
Not Victor.
Not someone I knew.
Late forties. Heavy coat. Scar along his chin.
He held a gun.
“Drive.”
I pulled it out.
“Boy first.”
He laughed.
“You rich guys always think you’re negotiating.”
I held the drive over a floor drain.
“You always think rich guys are stupid?”
His smile disappeared.
“Drop it and the kid dies.”
“Show him to me.”
A second door opened.
Noah stood there.
A woman held his shoulders.
My heart stopped.
Same height.
Same brown hair.
Same green eyes.
Emily.
For one impossible second, my mind accepted it.
Then she stepped into the light.
Not Emily.
Her sister.
Rachel.
Emily had an older sister who disappeared from our lives six months before the accident. Family fight. That was the story.
Rachel stared at me.
“Hello, Ethan.”
“What the hell is this?”
She looked at Noah.
“He remembers me from photographs. Anna told him my name was Emily to keep him calm.”
Noah cried.
“Daddy!”
I moved.
The gunman raised his weapon.
“Stop.”
Rachel said, “Give us the drive.”
“Why?”
“Because Emily died trying to protect it.”
“You knew?”
“I helped her.”
My throat tightened.
“Then tell me who killed her.”
Rachel’s eyes filled with tears.
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
The warehouse lights snapped on.
Detective Brooks and armed officers poured through both entrances.
The gunman spun.
A shot exploded.
Everyone dropped.
When I looked up, Rachel was on the floor.
May you like
Blood spread across her shoulder.
And the person holding the smoking gun was Anna.
