Chapter 7 - The Dead Man in Unit 214
The storage facility smelled of wet concrete and old gasoline.
Police lights flashed across the metal doors as Adrian's security chief led them toward Unit 214. Amelia walked beside Adrian, struggling to keep her breathing steady.
A detective stepped into their path.
“Mr. Moretti, you're not going inside.”
“Then tell me what you've found.”
“We found a deceased male. The unit was rented under Daniel Brooks's name, but the body appears to have been here recently.”
“Who called it in?” Amelia asked.
The detective glanced at her.
“An anonymous caller.”
Adrian's expression darkened.
“Convenient.”
“I'm not discussing the investigation with you,” the detective replied. “Miss Brooks, I need you to confirm whether your father ever rented a storage unit.”
“He died nineteen years ago. I never knew about this one.”
The detective studied her face, then stepped aside.
The body was covered with a white sheet. Near the entrance lay a broken wristwatch, a brass key, and a small metal case.
Amelia recognized the watch.
Not because she had seen it on her father's wrist, but because she had kept its twin in a drawer at home.
Her father had bought matching watches for himself and her mother on their twentieth anniversary.
“This isn't my father,” she whispered.
“No,” Adrian said. “The medical examiner estimates the man died recently.”
The detective lifted the sheet enough to reveal the man's face.
Amelia stepped back.
She had never met him.
But she recognized the scar across his chin.
The same scar appeared in the photograph tucked inside the envelope Vincent had sent to her shop.
“Who is he?” she asked.
The detective answered reluctantly.
“Former accountant for one of the companies connected to your father's investigation. His name was Peter Lawson. He disappeared twelve years ago.”
Adrian's jaw tightened.
Peter Lawson had been one of the last people to speak with Daniel Brooks before the accident.
“What was he doing here?” Amelia asked.
“That's what we're trying to determine.”
Adrian crouched beside the metal case.
The detective immediately blocked him.
“Don't touch anything.”
“I wasn't going to.”
But Amelia noticed the brass key lying near the door.
Its shape matched the key her mother had kept on a chain around her neck until the day she died.
After her mother's funeral, Amelia had placed the key in a small wooden box.
She still had it.
“Detective,” she said, “I may have something relevant.”
The detective took her statement while Adrian stood silently behind her.
When she finished, he leaned close enough that only she could hear him.
“Your mother knew more than she told you.”
Amelia turned on him.
“Don't.”
“I need you to understand—”
“No. I need you to stop treating every terrible thing in my life like another piece on your board.”
He fell silent.
A forensic technician emerged from the unit carrying a sealed evidence bag.
Inside was a small photograph.
Daniel Brooks stood beside Peter Lawson in front of a warehouse. On the back, someone had written a date and four words.
The second copy survives.
Amelia's hands shook.
“Where is the warehouse?”
The detective turned the photograph over.
An address had been written beneath the message.
It belonged to an abandoned building near the river.
Before they could leave, a uniformed officer approached.
“Detective, we received another call.”
“About what?”
“A vehicle parked behind the building. Registered to Vincent Moretti's company.”
Adrian looked at his security chief.
“Find Vincent.”
“He's at a charity gala downtown,” the man replied.
“Then bring him here.”
The detective stepped between them.
“Mr. Moretti, you don't get to order arrests.”
Adrian's expression was ice.
“I know the difference between an arrest and a warning.”
“And I know the difference between helping an investigation and interfering with one.”
For a moment, the two men stared at each other.
Then Adrian stepped back.
“Fine. You do your job. I'll do mine.”
He turned to Amelia.
“We're going to the warehouse.”
“I'm coming.”
“No.”
“You promised not to make decisions about my life.”
“This isn't a decision about your life. It's a decision about keeping you alive.”
“You don't get to separate those two things whenever it's convenient.”
He looked as though he wanted to argue.
Instead, he handed her his phone.
“Call my attorney. Tell her where we're going. If we don't check in within thirty minutes, she contacts the detective.”
Amelia took the phone.
“Thirty minutes.”
They reached the warehouse just before sunset.
The main door stood open.
Inside, dust covered the floor, but a fresh trail of footprints led toward a metal staircase. At the top sat a desk, a filing cabinet, and a locked drawer.
Adrian broke the lock.
Inside lay a bundle of documents tied with faded string.
Amelia lifted the first page.
It was a ledger containing names, dates, and payments connected to her father's investigation.
Halfway down the second page, she found the name of the man who had approved the transfer that placed Peter Lawson inside the storage unit.
Anthony Moretti.
Adrian's father.
Beneath the signature was another name.
Isabella Moretti.
Amelia stared at it.
Then she heard a click behind them.
A man stood in the doorway, pointing a gun at Adrian.
“Put the papers down,” he ordered.
Adrian slowly raised his hands.
The stranger's eyes shifted to Amelia.
“Especially you, Miss Brooks.”
He smiled without warmth.
“Your mother was right. You really do look like her.”
Amelia went cold.
May you like
Her mother had been dead for six years.
And this man had just implied he knew her personally.
