Chapter 5 - THE BLOOD ON JULIAN’S SHIRT
For one terrible second, I wondered if Julian had killed my father.
I hated myself for wondering.
He saw it.
The realization moved across his face like a shadow.
“You think I did it.”
“I don’t know what to think.”
“That isn’t a no.”
“Julian, you just told me you woke up covered in my father’s blood.”
His jaw tightened.
“I know.”
Margaret intervened.
“Julian suffered a concussion that night.”
“What?”
“He was found two blocks from the warehouse.”
Julian turned toward her.
“You knew?”
“I saw the hospital report.”
“And said nothing?”
“You told everyone you remembered enough.”
He laughed bitterly.
“Apparently I didn’t.”
Luke returned with archived security files.
The warehouse had belonged to a Cross import company.
Old cameras captured exterior footage.
At 11:02 p.m., my father entered.
At 11:19, Julian arrived.
At 11:43, another vehicle pulled in.
Black Mercedes.
No visible plate.
At 12:07, the warehouse caught fire.
At 12:11, Julian stumbled outside.
His shirt was covered in blood.
He collapsed.
A figure emerged behind him.
Dragged him farther from the building.
Then returned inside.
The video quality was terrible.
But the figure was tall.
Male.
Wearing a long coat.
At 12:16, the roof collapsed.
My father’s body was discovered later.
Julian stared at the footage.
“Someone pulled me out.”
Margaret nodded.
“And then went back.”
I leaned closer.
The figure paused beneath a security light.
For one frame, we saw his face.
Julian whispered:
“Gabriel.”
My stomach twisted.
Gabriel had been there.
He saved Julian.
Then disappeared.
Why?
Luke slowed the video.
Another detail emerged.
My father was not alone when he entered.
A second person sat in the passenger seat.
Smaller.
Possibly a woman.
She never exited on camera.
“Who was with him?” I asked.
Nobody knew.
Then Margaret noticed something in the background.
A second door.
Service entrance.
No camera coverage.
Someone could have entered or left unseen.
Julian turned toward me.
“Did your father have a partner?”
“No.”
“Girlfriend?”
“Not that I knew.”
“Family?”
“My mother died when I was twelve.”
Margaret frowned.
“How?”
“Cancer.”
Silence.
Then she asked:
“What was her name?”
“Anna Vale.”
Julian went completely still.
I noticed.
“What?”
He looked at Margaret.
She looked equally shocked.
“What?” I demanded.
Julian whispered:
“Anna Vale worked for my father.”
My stomach dropped.
“Doing what?”
Margaret answered.
“Accounting.”
I stared.
My mother had worked for the Cross family.
Both my parents.
And neither had ever told me.
Then Luke searched old employee records.
He found Anna.
Her photograph appeared.
My mother.
Younger.
Smiling.
Beside her employment file was a security note.
TERMINATED FOR UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS TO PRIVATE FAMILY RECORDS.
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And below that:
DO NOT ALLOW CONTACT WITH JULIAN CROSS.
