Chapter 5 - THE LOCKER THAT HELD TWENTY YEARS OF LIES
Chicago Union Station was crowded with commuters when Arthur and I arrived.
I wore a plain winter coat.
He wore a dark suit without a tie.
Two security officers remained nearby, but Arthur had agreed to let investigators handle the evidence.
The brass key rested in my palm.
My father's key.
The one I'd been told was lost.
The one Samuel Voss carried when he died.
Now it was leading me toward answers I wasn't sure I wanted.
We reached Locker 47.
I inserted the key.
Turned it.
The lock clicked.
Inside was a small metal case.
Nothing more.
Arthur stared.
"That's it?"
I nodded.
"Apparently."
We transferred the case to investigators for documentation and examination.
Inside were financial records.
Photographs.
A small recording device.
And a sealed envelope addressed to me.
For Norah, when you're old enough to understand.
My hands trembled.
I opened it.
Dad's handwriting filled the page.
My beautiful girl,
If you're reading this, then I couldn't protect you the way I wanted.
Tears filled my eyes.
I continued.
I worked for the Costello family because I believed honest people could survive inside powerful organizations.
I was wrong.
My chest tightened.
Victor Bellamy stole money, arranged fraudulent transfers, and threatened anyone who questioned him.
When Arthur's father discovered the theft, Victor had him killed.
I covered my mouth.
Arthur turned away.
His father had died in a boating accident fifteen years earlier.
Or so everyone believed.
The letter continued.
Clara found the records.
She tried to report them.
Victor threatened her.
My hands shook.
After Clara died, I promised myself I'd keep you safe.
A tear rolled down my cheek.
But Victor never stopped looking for the evidence.
Then came the final paragraph.
Norah, if Arthur Costello ever finds you, remember something.
He wasn't responsible for what happened to your mother.
I looked up.
Arthur stared.
"What?"
I continued reading.
Arthur tried to help Clara before his father separated them.
He was only a boy.
Don't let the crimes of his family make you believe everyone carrying the Costello name is cruel.
I began crying.
For years, I'd believed my parents died because life was unfair.
Now I understood they had been trapped in a conspiracy that began long before I was born.
Arthur stood beside me.
His expression was filled with grief.
Then investigators examined the recording.
A man's voice filled the room.
Victor Bellamy.
"Daniel, you should have burned those records."
Then my father's voice.
"I won't help you steal from innocent people."
Victor laughed.
"You don't understand who you're dealing with."
Dad answered:
"I understand perfectly."
A pause.
Then Victor spoke again.
"Arthur's father discovered too much. And you know what happened to him."
Arthur stopped breathing.
The recording continued.
Dad's voice was calm.
"You're confessing."
Victor laughed.
"Who would believe you?"
Silence.
Then the recording ended.
Arthur lowered his head.
For the first time, he had evidence that his father's death was not an accident.
But the final document in the case contained something even more disturbing.
A hospital invoice.
Dated three years earlier.
The year my father died.
Signed by Victor Bellamy.
Arthur stared.
"That's the facility where Daniel was treated."
I nodded.
Then noticed the physician's name.
Dr. Andrew Mercer.
The same doctor who signed Dad's death certificate.
Arthur looked toward the investigator.
"Where is Dr. Mercer now?"
The investigator checked the records.
Then looked up.
May you like
His expression changed.
"He's currently the personal physician assigned to your eight-year-old daughter."
