Chapter 3 - Unit 317
The storage facility looked abandoned.
Gray clouds hung low over Milwaukee as Alison, Christopher, Catherine, and Daniel's investigator, Marcus Hale, stood beneath a flickering security light.
Marcus had spent twenty years investigating financial crimes.
He studied the key.
“Unit 317.”
He looked at Alison.
“You're sure Gregory gave this to Abigail?”
“She said he did.”
Marcus nodded.
“Then we proceed carefully.”
The manager opened the hallway.
Unit 317 sat at the end.
Alison's hands trembled as she inserted the key.
Click.
The lock opened.
Christopher immediately stepped in front of Alison.
“I'll go first.”
The door rolled upward.
Boxes filled the unit.
Dozens of them.
Some were labeled with dates.
Others had Alison's name.
One said:
REED — PROPERTY
Another:
ABIGAIL — SCHOOL
And another:
CHRISTOPHER — DIVORCE
Alison felt nauseated.
“He's been collecting information about us.”
Marcus didn't answer.
He was already photographing everything.
Christopher opened the first box.
Inside were copies of Alison's bank statements.
Another contained medical records.
Another held school documents.
Then Catherine found something.
“Alison.”
She held up a folder.
It contained photographs.
Alison entering her apartment.
Alison leaving work.
Christopher picking up Abigail.
Catherine at the grocery store.
Some photographs had dates written beneath them.
“This is surveillance,” Marcus said.
Alison stared at the photographs.
“Why?”
Marcus opened another folder.
Inside was a timeline.
Phase One — Relationship
Phase Two — Financial Dependence
Phase Three — Custody Pressure
Phase Four — Property Transfer
Alison's blood ran cold.
“He planned everything.”
“Maybe,” Marcus said.
Then he found a fifth folder.
Phase Five — Disappearance
Nobody spoke.
Christopher grabbed it.
“What the hell does that mean?”
Marcus opened it carefully.
There were no photographs.
Only a list of names.
Some crossed out.
One name wasn't.
Alison Reed.
Beneath it was a handwritten note:
If she refuses, use the daughter.
Christopher's face became expressionless.
Catherine covered her mouth.
Alison couldn't move.
Then Abigail's voice came from behind them.
“Mom?”
Alison turned.
Her daughter was standing at the doorway.
She had followed them.
Christopher immediately moved toward her.
“You shouldn't be here.”
Abigail pointed at a box.
“That one.”
Marcus looked.
“Which?”
“The red one.”
They opened it.
Inside was a children's drawing.
A house.
Three people.
Alison.
Abigail.
And Christopher.
Gregory had drawn a black X through the house.
Underneath, in handwriting that wasn't Gregory's, were four words:
Family needs a new home.
Alison felt tears fill her eyes.
Then Marcus found a flash drive.
“We need to preserve this.”
Before he could pocket it, the storage facility lights went out.
Complete darkness.
Abigail screamed.
A metal door slammed somewhere in the hallway.
Christopher grabbed his daughter.
“Stay behind me.”
Marcus pulled out his flashlight.
Footsteps echoed outside.
Someone was running.
They rushed into the hallway.
A figure disappeared around the corner.
Marcus chased him.
Christopher followed.
Alison stayed with Abigail and Catherine.
Seconds later, Marcus returned.
“Gone.”
“Did you see him?”
“Male. Dark jacket. Baseball cap.”
“Gregory?”
“I couldn't confirm.”
Then Marcus looked toward the parking lot.
“One of the cars is missing.”
Alison's heart dropped.
“Which one?”
“Gregory's.”
They froze.
He had been there.
He knew they had found the storage unit.
Back at the hotel, Marcus copied the flash drive.
It contained dozens of files.
Bank records.
Property documents.
Email screenshots.
And photographs.
Then they found something unexpected.
A folder labeled:
CATHERINE REED — AGREEMENT
Catherine stared at it.
“Open it.”
Inside was a draft statement claiming Catherine had agreed to become Abigail's permanent guardian.
Alison turned toward her mother.
“You never signed this.”
“No.”
“But someone prepared it.”
Marcus nodded.
“And there's more.”
He opened another file.
A scanned letter from Christopher.
It appeared to say he had voluntarily surrendered all parental claims to Abigail.
Christopher stared at it.
“I never wrote that.”
Marcus zoomed in.
“Your signature is forged too.”
Alison looked at him.
“Why forge Christopher's signature?”
Marcus's answer was chilling.
“To make it easier to convince a court that Gregory was the only responsible adult available.”
Christopher clenched his fists.
“So the custody issue wasn't separate.”
“No,” Marcus said.
“It was part of the property scheme.”
Alison suddenly understood.
If Gregory could make her appear financially unstable, make Christopher appear absent, and establish Abigail as living elsewhere, he could build a narrative.
A narrative in which Alison was overwhelmed.
Gregory was the responsible partner.
And selling the apartment was supposedly necessary for the family's benefit.
But why?
What did he need the money for?
Marcus opened the final file.
A bank account number appeared.
It belonged to a company called Northbridge Holdings.
Christopher frowned.
“Who owns it?”
Marcus searched.
Then his expression changed.
“That's interesting.”
“What?”
“Northbridge Holdings has no public owner.”
“Then who controls it?”
Marcus looked at Alison.
“Someone named Gregory Voss is listed as its registered agent.”
Alison felt her stomach drop.
“He told me he didn't own a company.”
“He lied.”
A message appeared on Alison's phone.
Unknown number.
You shouldn't have opened the red box.
Another followed.
Now you know too much.
Alison's hands went cold.
Then the final message arrived.
Ask Christopher what happened six years ago.
Alison slowly looked at her ex-husband.
Christopher's face had gone pale.
“What happened six years ago?”
He didn't answer.
“Christopher?”
He looked at Abigail.
Then at Alison.
“I never wanted you to know.”
“Know what?”
Christopher swallowed.
“Gregory isn't the first person who tried to take something from us.”
Alison stared at him.
“What are you talking about?”
Christopher lowered his voice.
“Six years ago, before our divorce, someone tried to buy your apartment through a shell company.”
Alison's eyes widened.
“Who?”
Christopher looked at the screen.
“I didn't know.”
Then he whispered:
“But the name on the original paperwork…”
He stopped.
May you like
“What?”
“It was Gregory Voss.”
