Chapter 3 - The Dead Woman’s Secret
Reed did not shout.
That made everyone quieter.
He walked into his study and closed the door behind Winter. The room smelled of leather, smoke, and old wood. A locked cabinet stood against one wall. Maps of three counties covered another.
On the desk sat a framed photograph facedown.
Reed turned it upright.
Anna smiled from a summer field, one hand shielding her eyes from the sun. She had Cash’s serious mouth and Jolie’s curls.
Winter had seen the photograph before.
In her father’s files.
Reed placed both palms on the desk.
“Tell me everything.”
“I don’t know everything.”
“Tell me what you know.”
Winter remained near the door.
“My father contacted Anna eight months before she died. She had discovered unexplained transfers through one of your family’s freight companies.”
“My father controlled those companies.”
“Yes.”
“He was dead by then.”
“But the routes remained. Daniel took some of them over. Other men inside your organization helped him.”
Reed’s jaw hardened.
“Names.”
“My father never told me.”
“The ledger has them.”
“Yes.”
“Anna knew where it was.”
“I think so.”
“Did she tell you?”
“No.”
Reed came around the desk.
“You said your father gave Cash’s book to her.”
“He used books to hide messages. Receipts, keys, photographs. He trusted paper more than computers.”
Reed looked toward the ceiling.
“The astronomy book.”
Winter nodded.
“May I see it?”
“No.”
“It may contain—”
“I said no.”
Winter held his gaze.
“Then Lucy remains where she is.”
The temperature of the room seemed to drop.
Reed moved closer.
“You think you can use my son’s last memory of his mother?”
“I think Anna may have used it first.”
His expression sharpened.
Winter forced herself not to step backward.
“She wanted the truth found,” Winter said. “Maybe she knew she was in danger. Maybe she left something behind because she believed you would eventually look.”
“You assume she trusted me.”
“She married you.”
“She hid this from me.”
“Maybe she was protecting you.”
“From what?”
“From becoming your father.”
That hit.
Reed’s face closed.
Winter regretted it immediately.
But did not take it back.
A knock came at the door.
Perry entered without waiting.
“Elias talked.”
“Where is the girl?”
“He doesn’t know.”
Winter’s hope collapsed.
Perry continued.
“He did know where Vale’s sister was staying. A farmhouse outside Gallatin. We sent men.”
“Alive,” Winter said.
Reed ignored her.
“Anything else?”
“Elias was supposed to bring Winter to Nashville by midnight. If he didn’t, Vale would move Lucy out of state.”
Winter’s hand went to the bracelet.
“How long do we have?”
Perry checked his watch.
“Eight hours.”
Reed turned toward the door.
“Get Cash.”
Winter caught his arm.
“Don’t frighten him.”
Reed looked at her hand.
She released him.
“He’s already frightened,” Reed said. “He simply learned to hide it.”
Cash sat at the kitchen table when Reed placed the astronomy book before him.
Jolie had been taken upstairs by Etta, though her feet could be heard moving along the hallway above.
Cash looked from his father to Winter.
“What’s wrong?”
Reed sat beside him.
“We need to look inside your book.”
Cash pulled it toward his chest.
“Why?”
“Your mother may have hidden something.”
“No.”
“Cash.”
“No.”
Reed’s voice softened.
“I won’t damage it.”
“You don’t know that.”
Winter watched the boy’s fingers curl around the cover.
It was not a book to him.
It was proof that someone he could not remember had once known he would exist.
Winter crouched beside his chair.
“My father gave that book to your mother.”
Cash looked at her.
“Why?”
“Because she was brave.”
“What was she afraid of?”
Winter glanced at Reed.
He gave the smallest nod.
“Bad people were doing things she wanted to stop.”
“Did they kill her?”
Reed’s eyes closed briefly.
Cash had always been too intelligent to protect with soft words.
“Yes,” Winter said.
The boy’s face did not change.
But tears gathered along his lower lashes.
Reed placed a hand behind his son’s neck.
Cash looked at him.
“You said it was an accident.”
“I believed it was.”
“Were you lying?”
“No.”
Cash looked down at the book.
“You lie to other people.”
Reed’s hand stilled.
“But not to you.”
Cash considered this.
Then pushed the book toward Winter.
“Don’t break it.”
They examined every page.
Nothing appeared unusual at first. Star charts. Illustrations of planets. Notes in Anna’s handwriting beside constellations.
For Cash, when the sky feels too large.
On page sixty-three, a sentence had been underlined in faded ink.
Some stars appear close together but are separated by impossible distances.
Winter ran her finger over it.
“The page number matters.”
“Sixty-three?” Perry asked.
“My father used dates.”
Reed looked at the publication information.
“Published in 1963.”
Winter turned the book over.
The back cover felt thicker than the front.
Cash noticed her expression.
“What?”
“There’s something inside.”
Reed used a knife from his desk to lift the inner lining carefully.
A small brass key slid onto the table.
Beside it lay a narrow strip of paper.
Three words were written in Anna’s handwriting.
Where winter never ends.
Everyone looked at Winter.
She stared at the message.
“She meant me.”
“Or the season,” Perry said.
“No. Anna knew my name.”
Reed picked up the key.
“What does it open?”
Winter examined the engraved number.
“Train station locker.”
Copper Bend no longer had passenger rail service, but thirty miles north, the old Clarksville station retained a row of storage lockers used by commuters.
Reed stood.
“Perry, stay with the children.”
“No,” Cash said.
Reed looked down.
“You stay here.”
“It’s Mom’s message.”
“And my responsibility.”
“She left it in my book.”
Reed’s expression tightened.
Cash placed both hands flat on the table.
“You said you don’t lie to us. Don’t act like I don’t understand.”
“You are five.”
“I know she died. I know you kill people.”
Silence struck the room.
Winter looked at Reed.
Perry looked at the wall.
Cash continued.
“I know the men outside have guns. I know people stop talking when you enter rooms. I know Jolie thinks you own a shipping company, but shipping company people don’t check cars for bombs.”
Reed sat slowly.
“How long have you known?”
“I didn’t know. I guessed.”
“Cash—”
“I want to go.”
Reed looked at his son as if seeing him for the first time.
Not the child he had protected.
The child who had been watching.
Winter spoke gently.
“He should come.”
“No.”
“Anna left the clue with him.”
“That doesn’t mean she wanted him in danger.”
“It means she trusted him to carry something until you were ready.”
Cash did not blink.
Reed stared at the brass key.
Then turned to Perry.
“Arm the second vehicle.”
Jolie appeared at the top of the stairs.
“I’m coming too.”
“No,” three adults said together.
She folded her arms.
“If Cash goes, I go.”
“Jolie,” Reed warned.
“We’re twins.”
“That is not a legal argument.”
“It is in our house.”
Etta hid a smile.
Twenty minutes later, two SUVs left the Lawson property.
Reed drove the first. Winter sat beside him. The twins were in the back with Etta between them. Two armed vehicles followed.
The old station stood empty except for a janitor and a vending machine that hummed too loudly.
Locker sixty-three was near the end of the corridor.
Winter inserted the key.
It turned.
Inside sat a metal cashbox.
Reed lifted it out.
The box contained a ledger wrapped in waxed cloth.
Winter’s breath caught.
Her father’s handwriting filled the first page.
Names.
Dates.
Dollar amounts.
Cargo numbers.
Photographs were tucked between sections.
One showed Daniel shaking hands with a state senator.
Another showed a warehouse Reed recognized.
The East Warehouse.
Reed’s face darkened.
Perry leaned closer.
“There are Lawson routes here.”
“Not mine,” Reed said.
But the records continued past his father’s death.
Someone inside Reed’s organization had allowed Daniel’s trafficking network to use his territory for years.
Cash stood beside the bench.
“What did Mom find?”
Winter turned carefully through the pages.
Near the back, Anna’s handwriting appeared.
Reed saw it.
He took the ledger from Winter.
Anna had written a list of initials and route codes. Beside one entry was a single name.
Perry Vance.
No one spoke.
Perry stared at the page.
“That isn’t me.”
Reed looked at him.
“I swear to you.”
The station lights went out.
A gunshot shattered the window.
Reed threw himself over the twins as glass exploded across the floor.
Etta pulled Jolie behind the bench.
Perry drew his weapon and fired toward the entrance.
Winter grabbed the ledger.
A second shot struck the metal locker behind her.
“Back corridor!” Perry shouted.
Reed lifted Cash with one arm and pulled Jolie with the other.
They moved through the dark toward a service hallway.
Outside, engines roared.
Winter heard men shouting.
Reed shoved open a side door.
The alley beyond was blocked by a black sedan.
The same one that had watched the diner.
Its rear door opened.
Daniel Vale stepped out.
He wore a charcoal coat and no expression at all.
He looked almost ordinary.
That had always been his greatest talent.
“Winter,” he called.
Her body remembered him before her mind did.
Her shoulders drew inward.
Her breath shortened.
Daniel smiled.
“There’s my girl.”
Reed stepped in front of her.
Daniel’s gaze shifted to him.
“Lawson.”
“Vale.”
“You have something that belongs to me.”
Reed looked at Winter.
“No.”
Daniel’s smile thinned.
“Lucy is waiting.”
Winter moved before Reed could stop her.
“Where is she?”
“Safe.”
“Let me see her.”
“Bring me the ledger.”
Winter held it beneath her coat.
Daniel saw the movement.
Behind him, three armed men emerged.
Perry raised his gun.
Reed did not.
His children were behind him.
Daniel knew it.
“You won’t start a war in front of your twins,” Daniel said.
Reed’s voice was quiet.
“You already started it.”
Daniel reached into his pocket and held up a phone.
On the screen, Lucy sat in a small room clutching a stuffed dog.
Winter made a sound that seemed torn from somewhere below speech.
“Mommy?” Lucy said through the phone.
Winter ran forward.
Reed caught her around the waist.
“Lucy!”
The little girl looked toward someone offscreen.
Daniel lowered the phone.
“Midnight,” he said. “Bring the ledger to the Bellweather Mill. Come alone, Winter, or your daughter learns what abandonment feels like.”
He stepped into the sedan.
Before the door closed, Lucy’s voice came faintly from the phone.
“Mommy, don’t let Daddy be mad.”
The car sped away.
Winter fought Reed’s grip until he released her.
“You should have let me go.”
“He would have taken both of you.”
“She’s alive.”
“Yes.”
“She thinks I left her.”
Reed turned her toward him.
“Listen to me.”
Winter struck his chest.
He barely moved.
“She thinks I left her!”
“Then we bring her home.”
“You don’t know where she is.”
“We know where he wants you.”
“That’s a trap.”
Reed looked toward the road where Daniel had disappeared.
“So is every door until someone stronger walks through it.”
Behind them, Cash picked up a photograph that had fallen from the ledger.
He studied it.
“Dad.”
Reed turned.
The photograph showed Anna standing outside Bellweather Mill six years earlier.
May you like
Beside her stood Perry.
And in the background, partially hidden by shadow, was Reed himself.
