Chapter 3 - THE STORAGE UNIT THAT SHOULDN'T EXIST
My mother had been dead for four years.
Yet someone had accessed a storage unit registered in her name the previous afternoon.
That alone should have terrified me.
What frightened me more was the address.
The unit was located fifteen minutes from the apartment where I'd grown up.
A place Mom drove past almost every morning.
A place she had never mentioned.
Dominic offered to arrange transportation.
I almost refused.
Then I remembered Isabella's recording.
The hidden numbers.
The photograph.
And the possibility that my mother had left something behind.
“I want to see it.”
Dominic nodded.
“But we'll contact the facility manager and involve the authorities if anything appears suspicious.”
I blinked.
For a man rumored to solve problems with violence, he was being unexpectedly careful.
He noticed my expression.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Rachel.”
I sighed.
“I thought you'd kick down the door.”
The corner of his mouth moved.
“Only if the manager charges unreasonable late fees.”
I laughed before I could stop myself.
Dominic looked almost pleased.
Forty minutes later, we reached the storage facility.
The manager checked the old account.
Then looked confused.
“Ms. Bennett's unit was supposed to remain sealed.”
I leaned forward.
“Sealed by whom?”
“A legal representative.”
“Who?”
The manager hesitated.
“Daniel Cross.”
Dominic's face changed.
I noticed immediately.
“You know him?”
He nodded.
“He used to handle my family's legal affairs.”
“Used to?”
“He disappeared after Isabella went missing.”
My stomach tightened.
The manager opened the access records.
Someone had entered the unit at 3:12 the previous afternoon.
Using a valid electronic key.
The registered visitor was Daniel Cross.
Dominic's jaw tightened.
“That's impossible.”
“Why?”
“Because Daniel Cross was declared dead five years ago.”
I stared at him.
Wonderful.
A dead lawyer visiting my dead mother's storage unit.
Apparently, my life had become a badly written crime drama.
The manager escorted us to the unit after verifying the account and obtaining authorization from the estate's legal representative.
Inside were cardboard boxes.
An old piano bench.
Two lamps.
A dusty suitcase.
And a beautiful wooden music box.
I recognized it immediately.
“Mom's.”
I picked it up carefully.
The lid was decorated with tiny painted roses.
When I opened it, a little ballerina began turning.
The melody was the same song Isabella had recorded.
I felt tears gathering.
Then I noticed something strange.
The ballerina wasn't moving smoothly.
It stopped every seven turns.
Just like the seven-note pattern.
I examined the mechanism.
A small brass latch was hidden beneath the velvet lining.
I pressed it.
A secret compartment opened.
Inside lay a folded letter.
My name was written across the front.
Rachel.
My hands trembled.
I unfolded it.
My beautiful girl,
If you're reading this, then Isabella's disappearance was not an accident.
I stopped breathing.
Dominic leaned closer.
I continued.
There are things about your childhood I never told you.
My throat tightened.
I wanted to protect you from the people who destroyed our family.
Then I reached the final paragraph.
May you like
And the world seemed to tilt.
“Rachel, the man you believe was your father was not your biological father.”
