Chapter 6 - The Man Who Remembered Everything
The man who claimed to be Samuel Price agreed to meet us at a diner outside Chicago.
Rebecca insisted I stay home.
I refused.
For seventeen years, my mother's death had been a closed door.
Now someone was offering a key.
I wasn't going to sit in my living room waiting for another person to decide what I deserved to know.
So I arranged for Owen to stay with my father and our newly hired nurse, Helen Brooks.
Then Rebecca and I drove to the diner.
It stood beside an old highway, surrounded by empty parking lots and gas stations.
Samuel Price was waiting in the last booth.
He looked to be in his late sixties.
Thin.
Gray-haired.
One hand trembled slightly as he lifted his coffee.
When he saw me, his face changed.
"Margaret."
I stopped.
Rebecca touched my arm.
"This is Elena."
Samuel stared.
Then his eyes filled with tears.
"You look exactly like her."
I sat down.
"Tell me what happened to my mother."
He lowered his cup.
"I've been waiting seventeen years for someone to ask."
Samuel had worked security at Warehouse 17.
He claimed he had no idea the building was being used for anything illegal until the night of the fire.
"Your mother arrived around eight forty," he said.
"Alone?" Rebecca asked.
"Yes."
"Who was she meeting?"
"A man named Reed."
I leaned forward.
"Detective Thomas Reed?"
Samuel nodded.
"He was supposed to bring evidence."
"What evidence?"
Samuel looked at me.
"Financial records. Photographs. Names."
"Of whom?"
"Arthur Ashford. Richard Cole. Several police officers."
My stomach tightened.
"What happened?"
"Reed never showed."
Samuel rubbed his forehead.
"Instead, three men arrived. They took your mother into the loading office."
"Did they hurt her?"
His expression twisted.
"I heard shouting."
My hands clenched.
"Then the fire started."
Samuel stared into his coffee.
"One of the men came running out. He told me to leave. Said the building was going to explode."
"Did you?"
"No."
He looked at me.
"I went back for your mother."
My breath caught.
"Was she alive?"
"Yes."
Tears filled my eyes.
"She was alive?"
Samuel nodded.
"She was injured, but she could walk. I helped her through the rear loading dock."
"What happened next?"
"A black sedan pulled up."
"Who was driving?"
Samuel hesitated.
Then he said, "Arthur Ashford."
I stared at him.
"Arthur?"
"He opened the passenger door. Your mother recognized him."
"Did she get in willingly?"
Samuel shook his head.
"She didn't have much choice. Two armed men were coming out of the building."
I felt sick.
"Where did he take her?"
"I don't know."
Rebecca leaned forward.
"Why did you disappear?"
Samuel looked toward the window.
"Because two days later, someone broke into my apartment and left a photograph of my daughter sleeping."
I closed my eyes.
The same threat.
The same method.
My father had received a photograph of me.
Samuel had received one of his daughter.
Whoever controlled this conspiracy had been silencing people for nearly two decades.
"Why come forward now?" Rebecca asked.
Samuel reached inside his coat.
"Because Arthur Ashford is dying."
He placed a small flash drive on the table.
"And because someone finally sent me the evidence I was supposed to receive seventeen years ago."
At the Ashford estate, Graham confronted Arthur again.
This time, he brought Vanessa's photograph and a copy of the warehouse ownership records.
Arthur looked at the papers.
His face hardened.
"Where did you get those?"
"Answer my question."
Arthur leaned back.
"What question?"
"Did you know Margaret Mercer?"
Arthur said nothing.
"Did you arrange her disappearance?"
The old man's expression changed.
Graham had seen his grandfather angry.
He had seen him ruthless.
He had never seen him afraid.
"Who told you that?" Arthur whispered.
Graham stepped closer.
"Elena's mother disappeared after a warehouse fire. You were there."
Arthur's hand moved toward the emergency button on his desk.
Graham caught his wrist.
"No."
Arthur stared at him.
"You're making a mistake."
"Then explain."
Arthur's eyes filled with something Graham couldn't identify.
"Margaret Mercer was trying to expose Richard Cole."
"And you?"
"I was trying to keep her alive."
Graham released his wrist.
"What?"
Arthur looked toward the door.
Then he whispered, "Richard Cole ordered the fire."
Graham felt his pulse quicken.
"Why?"
"Because Margaret discovered a shipment that was never supposed to exist."
"What shipment?"
Arthur closed his eyes.
"Children."
Graham went still.
Arthur continued.
"Richard was using the warehouse as part of a trafficking operation. Margaret found the records. She was going to the authorities."
Graham stared at his grandfather.
"Did you help her?"
Arthur's expression crumpled.
"I tried."
"Where is she?"
Arthur looked away.
"Grandfather."
Arthur whispered, "I don't know."
Graham stepped back.
For the first time, he understood that the marriage he'd spent three years resenting might have been connected to something far more terrible than business.
Then Arthur said something that made Graham's blood run cold.
"I arranged your marriage because I thought keeping Elena close would protect her."
At the diner, Rebecca connected Samuel's flash drive to an isolated laptop.
There were dozens of files.
Bank records.
Shipping manifests.
Photographs.
And one video.
The timestamp showed a date seventeen years earlier.
Rebecca opened it.
A grainy security recording appeared.
Warehouse 17.
A loading dock.
Flames flickering in the background.
Then a woman emerged.
My mother.
Alive.
Bleeding from her forehead.
A man helped her toward a black sedan.
Arthur Ashford stepped out.
I leaned closer.
My mother's lips moved.
There was no audio.
Then another figure appeared.
A younger man in a dark coat.
He approached Arthur.
And even through the grainy footage, I recognized him from photographs.
Richard Cole.
Vanessa's father.
He raised a gun.
Arthur stepped between him and my mother.
The footage cut to black.
I stared at the empty screen.
Then Rebecca clicked the next file.
It was an audio recording.
A woman's frightened voice filled the diner booth.
My mother's voice.
"If anything happens to me, tell Elena the truth."
I began crying.
May you like
Then my mother said something I would never forget.
"Arthur Ashford isn't the man you should be afraid of."
