Chapter 3 - The Night My Father Asked for Help
For sixteen months, I'd believed my father died peacefully in his sleep.
Now Vincent Moretti was telling me Dad had been afraid for his life.
"You're lying," I whispered.
Vincent didn't look offended.
He looked ashamed.
"I wish I were."
Detective Mitchell stepped closer.
"Mr. Moretti, we'll need a formal statement."
"You'll have one."
I stared.
"Why didn't you tell anyone?"
Vincent looked toward me.
"Thomas said he had documents proving illegal shipments were moving through the port. He wanted to meet privately."
"And?"
"I agreed."
My heart pounded.
"What happened?"
"He never came."
I shook my head.
"That's impossible."
Vincent's expression tightened.
"Elena, I didn't know he'd died until several days later."
I felt tears gathering.
"My father worked his whole life. He had debts. He was exhausted. The doctors said his heart stopped."
Vincent nodded.
"That may still be true. But he was worried about something serious before he died."
I looked toward the detective.
"Can we investigate?"
Mitchell answered carefully.
"We can review the records and determine whether there's evidence supporting another explanation."
I nodded.
I wanted the truth.
But I didn't want another powerful man telling me what to believe.
That night, I returned home after giving my statement.
My apartment was small, with peeling kitchen cabinets and a radiator that clicked whenever the heat came on.
Caleb was asleep on the couch.
His rehabilitation exercises had exhausted him.
I stood beside him for a moment.
He looked so much younger than twenty-three.
Before the accident, he'd been strong and funny.
He loved motorcycles, terrible horror movies, and teasing me about my coffee addiction.
Now he sometimes struggled to walk across the room without becoming short of breath.
I gently touched his shoulder.
"Caleb?"
He opened his eyes.
"El?"
"We need to talk."
He sat up slowly.
I told him what had happened at Harbor House.
The strange man.
The device.
The recording.
Dad's name.
Caleb went pale.
"You heard my voice?"
I nodded.
"What recording was that?"
He lowered his eyes.
"I made it for someone."
My stomach tightened.
"Who?"
"A reporter."
I stared.
"A reporter?"
Caleb nodded.
"Her name was Nora Whitfield. She was investigating chemical dumping near the harbor."
My heart hammered.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I didn't want you involved."
I almost laughed.
Everyone seemed determined to protect me by hiding things.
"Caleb, you're my brother."
"I know."
"Then stop treating me like a stranger."
He looked ashamed.
"I'm sorry."
I sat beside him.
"What did you discover?"
He took a shaky breath.
"Some of the containers at the repair yard had false labels."
"What was inside?"
"I don't know everything. But the exposure happened when damaged containers were moved into the maintenance area."
My chest tightened.
"Was it an accident?"
Caleb hesitated.
"I don't think so."
I stared.
He continued.
"Dad discovered something about those shipments months before he died."
"What?"
"He kept a notebook."
I leaned forward.
"Where?"
Caleb looked toward the hallway closet.
"Behind his old fishing tackle box."
I stood immediately.
We searched together.
After several minutes, Caleb found a small black notebook wrapped in a plastic grocery bag.
My hands shook as I opened it.
The pages were filled with dates, license plate numbers, container identifiers, and company names.
Then I found one name circled three times.
Dominic Vale.
I frowned.
"Who's Dominic Vale?"
Caleb looked frightened.
"He owns the marine repair yard."
My stomach dropped.
Then I turned another page.
There was a photograph tucked between the notes.
Dad standing beside Vincent Moretti.
And another man.
Dominic Vale.
All three appeared to be arguing beside a warehouse.
The photograph was dated four days before Dad died.
On the back, in my father's handwriting, were seven words.
If something happens, Vincent knows the truth.
I stared at the note.
Then my phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
A message appeared.
You should have let Moretti die tonight.
My blood went cold.
Another message followed.
Your father made the same mistake.
May you like
And then came the final threat.
Caleb will be next.
