Chapter 7 - Storage Unit 317
Beatrice didn't sleep.
Every time she closed her eyes, she heard her father's voice.
Get away from him.
But it wasn't the warning that frightened her most.
It was the tenderness in the way he'd said her name.
Bea.
Only her father had ever called her that.
At seven the next morning, she drove to a storage facility on Chicago's Southwest Side.
Unit 317 stood at the end of a narrow corridor.
Tommy had sent the access code in a separate message.
She entered it.
The lock clicked.
Inside were three filing cabinets, two cardboard boxes, and a small wooden desk.
A photograph rested on top.
Her mother.
Her father.
Beatrice and Tommy as children.
She picked it up with trembling hands.
For eighteen years, she'd believed her father had abandoned the world through death.
Now she wondered whether he'd simply abandoned them.
She opened the first cabinet.
Bank statements.
Shipping manifests.
Tax records.
Years of carefully organized financial evidence.
On the desk sat a sealed envelope.
Her name was written across the front in familiar handwriting.
For Beatrice, when she's ready.
She tore it open.
Inside was a letter.
My darling girl,
If you're reading this, it means the truth has finally reached you.
I never stopped loving you or Tommy.
I disappeared because I discovered something that could destroy two powerful families.
And because the person who ordered the fire wasn't finished.
Beatrice swallowed hard.
The letter continued.
Arthur Costello was a young man when this began. Do not blame him for his father's choices.
Her breath caught.
But understand this: the person behind everything is still close to him.
A sound came from outside.
Footsteps.
Beatrice folded the letter.
“Tommy?”
No answer.
She reached for her phone.
A shadow crossed the doorway.
Richard Spatafora appeared.
“Good morning, Miss Gallagher.”
Beatrice backed away.
“How did you find me?”
Richard smiled.
“You're an accountant. You follow numbers. Predictable, really.”
He glanced at the open filing cabinet.
“Find anything interesting?”
“Enough to make your lawyer very busy.”
His smile disappeared.
“Give me the ledger.”
“I don't know where it is.”
“Your father wouldn't have brought you here unless he trusted you to find it.”
Richard stepped closer.
Beatrice grabbed a metal stapler from the desk.
“Don't.”
He laughed.
“Do you actually think—”
She threw it.
The stapler struck his shoulder.
He cursed.
Beatrice ran.
But another man appeared in the doorway.
She stumbled backward.
Richard caught her wrist.
“Now,” he said coldly, “you're going to tell me where the ledger is.”
A voice sounded behind him.
“Let her go.”
Arthur Costello stood in the corridor.
Two security officers accompanied him.
Richard released her instantly.
“Arthur. You've misunderstood.”
Arthur walked past him.
His eyes went straight to Beatrice's reddened wrist.
“Are you hurt?”
She shook her head.
Arthur turned to Richard.
“You're finished.”
Richard's face twisted.
“You don't understand what you're interfering with.”
“Then explain it to the federal investigators waiting outside.”
Richard went pale.
Within minutes, he was escorted away.
Beatrice sank onto the desk chair.
Arthur crouched in front of her.
“I told you not to come alone.”
“I know.”
“You could have been hurt.”
“I know.”
His voice softened.
“You scared me.”
She looked into his eyes.
For once, she had no clever response.
Then Arthur noticed the letter in her hand.
“Is that from Daniel?”
She nodded.
He read the final paragraph.
Something in his face changed.
“Beatrice,” he whispered, “there's something I should have told you years ago.”
“What?”
He looked toward the photograph of her family.
“My father didn't just know your father.”
May you like
A long silence followed.
“Vittorio Costello was the man who helped him disappear.”
