Chapter 5 - THE STORAGE UNIT
Roman wanted to burn the note.
I wanted to follow it.
That argument lasted three hours.
“You are not going alone.”
“It specifically says alone.”
“That is generally how traps work.”
“What if Trevor knows where my father is?”
Roman stared at me.
“Sadi.”
“What?”
“Your father would be sixty-two now.”
“I know how old my father is.”
“I’m reminding you because you’re thinking like a nine-year-old girl who wants her dad to walk through a door.”
I slapped him.
The sound cracked through the room.
Roman didn’t move.
My hand instantly began trembling.
“I’m sorry.”
“No.”
I stepped back.
“You had no right.”
“You’re right.”
His calm made me angrier.
“I don’t need you managing my emotions.”
“I know.”
“Stop saying you know!”
Roman’s jaw flexed.
Then, finally, his control cracked.
“I am trying to keep you alive!”
The room went silent.
Roman rarely shouted.
I stared at him.
He lowered his voice.
“I spent half my life cleaning up what my father left behind.”
His eyes were dark.
“I buried enemies. I paid victims. I exposed people who deserved prison. I built walls between that world and you.”
“That’s the problem.”
He frowned.
“You built walls instead of telling me what was behind them.”
That landed.
At eleven forty-five, we went to the address together.
Not alone.
A storage facility on the edge of the city.
Unit 317.
The lock had already been cut.
Roman motioned for Marcus to stay behind us.
Inside were three cardboard boxes.
A steel chair.
An old desk.
Nothing else.
On the desk sat a cassette recorder.
I pressed play.
Static.
Then a man’s voice.
My father’s voice.
I knew it instantly.
“Sadi…”
My knees nearly gave out.
“If you ever hear this, then I failed to come home.”
I covered my mouth.
Roman went still beside me.
My father continued.
“Your mother doesn’t know everything. That was my choice. I found evidence Victor Vale was paying people to cover up deaths connected to his company.”
Roman looked away.
“I copied everything.”
My father coughed.
“I trusted one person to help me.”
A pause.
“His son.”
Roman’s face changed.
I turned toward him.
“You?”
Roman whispered, “No.”
The tape continued.
“Roman was just a boy. Too young.”
My breath caught.
“I trusted Victor’s oldest adviser.”
Another pause.
“Malcolm Reed.”
Roman swore.
I knew the name.
Malcolm Reed had been Roman’s mentor.
The man who helped him rebuild Vale Holdings.
The man Roman still called Uncle Malcolm.
The recording crackled.
“If Malcolm gives this tape to the authorities, then everything will be okay.”
A loud noise sounded in the background.
My father’s breathing changed.
Someone knocked.
He whispered quickly.
“Sadi, if I don’t come home, remember this.”
The tape hissed.
“I never left you.”
Then a door opened.
A second voice spoke.
A voice I recognized.
Older now.
But unmistakable.
Malcolm Reed.
“Elias, we need to talk.”
The tape ended.
Roman stared at the recorder.
Then his phone rang.
Marcus answered his own first.
His face went pale.
“Roman.”
May you like
“What?”
“Malcolm’s gone.”
