Chapter 6 - The Letter Written Thirty Years Too Late
Emmett Castellano had spent thirty years waiting for someone to tell him what really happened to his mother.
Now the answer was hidden behind a basement wall in a building he'd just purchased.
Investigators obtained authorization to examine the sealed storage area.
The old garment factory had been converted into offices decades earlier.
But part of the basement remained untouched.
Dust covered the concrete floor.
An abandoned sewing machine stood beneath a rusted pipe.
Hershel pointed toward the wall.
"Behind there."
Workers carefully removed a section of paneling.
Inside was a narrow cavity.
A metal box sat on the floor.
Emmett watched as an investigator opened it.
Inside were photographs, documents, and several yellowed envelopes.
One carried his name.
TO EMMETT CASTELLANO.
His hands trembled.
The investigator photographed the envelope before allowing him to view the letter under supervision.
Emmett recognized Samuel Caruso's handwriting.
Dear Emmett,
You were only four years old when your mother died.
I wish I could tell you the fire was an accident.
I wish I could tell you nobody could've prevented it.
But that would be another lie.
Emmett closed his eyes.
The words continued.
Your mother discovered that Sterling Dunore and his father were diverting employee insurance payments into private accounts.
When she refused to remain silent, they threatened her.
I tried to help her.
I wasn't fast enough.
A tear slipped down Emmett's cheek.
Adeline stood nearby, silent.
He read the final paragraph.
Your mother wanted you to grow up kind, Emmett.
She said the world already had enough powerful men who enjoyed frightening people.
She hoped you'd become the kind of man who made frightened people feel safe.
Emmett covered his face.
For the first time since Adeline had met him, he cried openly.
Not quietly.
Not behind a closed door.
He cried like a little boy who had finally been told what happened to his mother.
Adeline stepped closer.
"Emmett?"
He looked at her.
She gently offered her hand.
He took it.
Neither spoke.
Sometimes words were too small.
The investigators continued reviewing the box.
One document was especially important.
A copy of an insurance agreement bearing Sterling Dunore's signature.
Another described payments to a private security contractor shortly before the factory fire.
Then an investigator found a photograph.
It showed Sterling standing beside a younger Cade Branick.
Adeline frowned.
"Cade would've been a child thirty years ago."
Emmett looked closer.
"That's not Cade."
The resemblance was striking.
The same jaw.
The same cold eyes.
The same heavy silver ring.
Emmett turned the photograph over.
A name was written beneath the date.
WALTER BRANICK.
Cade's father.
And according to the attached report, Walter had been the supervisor responsible for locking the factory's emergency exits.
But the final document revealed something worse.
Walter Branick had received a payment only six months earlier.
May you like
He was still alive.
And he'd been living under a different name in a retirement community outside Columbus.
