Chapter 3 - THE BROTHER IN THE PHOTOGRAPH
Claire read the message five times.
Daniel was alive in the photograph.
His hair was longer than she remembered, his face bruised, and one arm rested in a sling. Behind him stood Owen Pike beside a rusted metal door. On the wall was a calendar with a date circled in red.
Three days after Daniel’s funeral.
“That picture could be manipulated,” Arthur said, though his voice lacked conviction.
Marcus enlarged the image. “We’ll authenticate it. No one meets anyone alone.”
The sender instructed Claire to go to an abandoned railway depot at nine that evening. Arthur objected immediately. Claire refused to stay behind.
“For four years, everyone has decided what truth I can handle,” she said. “That ends now.”
Marcus arranged surveillance teams around the depot. Claire wore a concealed microphone beneath her coat. Arthur waited in a nearby vehicle despite Marcus’s recommendation that he remain at the penthouse.
At exactly nine, a woman stepped from behind a row of freight containers.
She appeared to be in her late fifties, with gray hair tucked beneath a hood. Claire recognized her after several seconds.
“Mara Pike?”
Owen’s wife looked thinner than she had four years earlier.
“You came,” Mara said.
“Where is Daniel?”
Mara’s eyes filled with sorrow. “I don’t know.”
Claire fought to remain calm. “You sent the photograph.”
“Yes. Owen gave it to me two weeks ago.”
“Then Owen is alive.”
“He was.”
The word landed heavily.
Mara explained that Owen had hidden for years after discovering the theft network. He believed corrupt officials and executives were involved. Daniel had contacted him on the night of the crash, saying someone had followed him from Grant’s office.
According to Mara, Daniel survived the bridge collision. Owen found him injured near the riverbank and took him to a private clinic. Daniel feared returning home because he believed Grant had ordered the crash.
“Why didn’t he contact us?” Claire demanded.
“He intended to. Then the clinic was attacked.”
Mara pulled a small digital recorder from her pocket.
“Owen escaped. Daniel disappeared.”
Claire pressed a hand against the container to steady herself.
“Was Daniel killed?”
“Owen never knew. For years, he searched quietly. Last month, he finally found evidence that Daniel had been transferred under a false name to a psychiatric facility in New Mexico.”
Arthur’s voice sounded through Claire’s earpiece.
“My God.”
Mara continued. “Owen met Grant because he wanted to exchange the evidence for information about Daniel. Grant promised to cooperate.”
“The parking-garage photograph,” Claire said.
Mara nodded. “The envelope contained copies of Owen’s files. He thought Grant would pay to keep them private. Instead, Grant had him followed.”
“Where is Owen now?”
Mara looked past Claire toward the depot entrance.
“He was murdered six days ago.”
A metallic sound echoed behind the containers.
Marcus shouted through Claire’s earpiece. “Move!”
A gunshot struck the steel wall inches from Mara’s shoulder.
Claire dropped as security officers rushed from hiding. Mara pulled Claire behind a concrete barrier. Another shot rang out, followed by the squeal of tires.
Marcus’s team pursued a black sedan, but the vehicle escaped through a service road.
On the ground near the barrier, Claire saw Mara clutching her side. Blood spread beneath her coat.
“No,” Claire cried.
The wound had grazed Mara’s ribs but had not penetrated deeply. An ambulance arrived within minutes.
Before paramedics lifted her onto the stretcher, Mara gripped Claire’s wrist.
“Find the recorder,” she whispered. “Grant doesn’t know Owen made a second copy.”
Claire looked down.
The recorder was gone.
Someone had taken it during the confusion.
At the penthouse, Marcus reviewed surveillance footage. The shooter’s face remained hidden, but the black sedan’s license plate had been captured partially.
The car was registered to Whitmore Urban Holdings.
Grant’s lawyer issued a statement denying any connection.
Then Claire received another message—this time from Vanessa.
Grant is going to kill me. I know where the recorder is. Help me, and I’ll tell you what really happened to your brother.
Claire showed Arthur.
“Trap,” he said.
“Probably,” Claire answered.
The phone rang before they could decide.
Vanessa was crying so hard she could barely speak.
“He lied to both of us,” she whispered. “I thought he loved me, but I found the room beneath the house.”
“What room?”
“The one behind the wine cellar.”
Claire remembered that Grant had forbidden her from entering the cellar during renovations.
Vanessa lowered her voice.
“There are photographs of you everywhere. Medical records. Audio recordings. Documents about Daniel. And there’s a hospital bracelet with his name on it.”
A door slammed in the background.
Vanessa gasped.
May you like
“He’s here.”
The call ended.
