Chapter 3 - The Locker That Should Have Been Empty
Marcus refused to let Helena enter the archive alone.
She refused to let him bring six armed men.
They compromised badly.
Marcus brought one man.
Nico Santoro.
Forty-five, quiet, broad, with the permanent expression of somebody who disliked surprises.
The underground storage corridor smelled of damp concrete.
Helena carried a flashlight.
Marcus walked beside her.
“4317,” she whispered.
“There.”
The locker was metal, narrow, and rusted around the hinges.
Helena inserted a small police utility key.
Nothing.
Marcus watched.
“Move.”
“I know how to open a locker.”
“You’ve spent four years filing paperwork.”
She looked at him.
“Say that again.”
Nico cleared his throat.
“I’m going to stand farther away.”
Marcus almost smiled.
Helena tried again.
Click.
The door opened.
Inside sat one cardboard evidence envelope.
That was all.
Helena picked it up.
THOMAS CALLAHAN was written across the front in her father’s handwriting.
Her hands trembled.
Marcus noticed.
“Take your time.”
“I’ve had twelve years.”
She opened it.
Photographs.
Shipping manifests.
Copies of bank records.
And a small digital recorder.
Helena pressed PLAY.
Static.
Then her father’s voice.
“If Helena ever hears this, then something went wrong.”
She stopped breathing.
Marcus lowered his eyes.
Thomas continued.
“The theft operation isn’t Ferraro’s.”
Helena looked at Marcus.
He said nothing.
“The containers are being moved using seized police evidence tags. Somebody inside headquarters is authorizing them.”
Paper rustled on the recording.
“I have three names. Detective Paul Renner. Captain Louis Barrett.”
A pause.
“And Warren Hale.”
Helena switched off the recorder.
No one spoke.
Finally Nico said:
“Deputy Chief Hale?”
Helena stared at the machine.
“Twelve years ago, he wasn’t deputy chief.”
Marcus answered.
“He was lieutenant.”
Helena stepped away.
“No.”
“Helena.”
“No.”
Marcus stayed where he was.
“Hale gave me this investigation.”
“That may have been intentional.”
“He gave me my father’s file.”
“He may have wanted to know what you knew.”
Helena shook her head.
“He put me on Ferraro.”
Marcus corrected her.
“He pointed you at me.”
Helena looked at him.
Everything rearranged itself.
Her basement assignment.
The sudden opportunity.
Her father’s sealed file.
Her credentials being used.
“Hale wasn’t giving me a second chance.”
“No.”
“He was watching me.”
“Yes.”
A sound came from the corridor.
Metal scraping.
Nico turned.
“Someone’s here.”
Lights snapped off.
Helena drew her weapon.
Marcus caught her wrist.
“No shooting unless you see a target.”
“I’m the cop.”
“And you’re breathing because I’m telling you not to fire blind.”
Footsteps approached.
Three.
Maybe four people.
Nico whispered:
“West exit.”
Marcus pointed.
“Go.”
Helena grabbed the envelope.
They moved through a narrow maintenance corridor.
A voice echoed behind them.
“Detective Callahan!”
Helena froze.
She recognized it.
Captain Barrett.
Marcus pulled her forward.
“Keep moving.”
“Helena!” Barrett shouted. “Ferraro is manipulating you!”
Marcus muttered:
“Predictable.”
They reached a steel door.
Locked.
Nico tried the handle.
“Problem.”
Footsteps closed in.
Helena turned toward Marcus.
“You have any brilliant criminal solutions?”
Marcus removed a key ring.
“You insult me while requesting assistance?”
“Yes.”
He unlocked the door.
Helena stared.
“Why do you have a key?”
“I own the east wing.”
“Of course you do.”
They escaped into an alley.
Nico brought the SUV around.
Helena climbed inside.
Marcus followed.
Her phone rang again.
Hale.
She stared at it.
Marcus said:
“Don’t answer.”
Helena did anyway.
“Hale.”
His voice was calm.
“Where are you?”
“Why?”
“I’m trying to protect you.”
“From whom?”
“Ferraro.”
Helena looked at Marcus.
“Did you know my father?”
Silence.
Hale recovered quickly.
“I knew many officers.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“Helena, whatever Ferraro told you—”
“I heard my father’s voice.”
The line became completely silent.
Marcus’s eyes sharpened.
Helena continued.
“He named you.”
Hale exhaled slowly.
Then his voice lost every trace of warmth.
“You should have stayed in records.”
Helena felt something cold move through her.
“Did you kill him?”
“No.”
“Who did?”
“Bring me what you found.”
“Answer me.”
“Bring it to headquarters, and we can discuss this like police officers.”
Marcus shook his head.
Helena ignored him.
“Police officers?”
Her voice hardened.
“You buried me in a basement for four years.”
“To keep you alive.”
The answer stunned her.
“What?”
“You think Thomas’s enemies disappeared?”
Helena looked at Marcus.
Hale continued.
“Your father made choices he didn’t understand.”
“Like trusting you?”
“He stopped trusting me. That was his mistake.”
Marcus reached for the phone.
Helena held up a hand.
“What do you want?”
“The recorder.”
“And if I refuse?”
Hale paused.
“Then everyone you speak to becomes a problem.”
The line disconnected.
Helena lowered the phone.
Nico glanced through the mirror.
“He just threatened you.”
Marcus looked out the window.
“No.”
Helena frowned.
“What do you mean?”
Marcus’s voice was quiet.
“He threatened everyone around her.”
Helena’s phone vibrated.
A photograph appeared.
Her apartment door.
Open.
Another image followed.
Her bedroom destroyed.
Then a message.
YOU HAVE UNTIL MIDNIGHT.
Marcus looked at it.
“Come with me.”
“Where?”
“My house.”
Helena laughed once.
“I’m not hiding in a mafia fortress.”
Marcus turned toward her.
“Detective, somebody inside your department just broke into your home, stole your identity credentials, sent armed men after you, and threatened everyone you know.”
He leaned closer.
“My house is not your biggest problem.”
She hated that he was right.
“Fine.”
Marcus nodded.
Nico accelerated.
Helena stared at the recorder in her lap.
“Marcus.”
“Yes?”
“My father trusted you.”
Marcus’s eyes remained on the road ahead.
“For three days.”
“That’s more than he trusted Hale.”
Marcus said nothing.
Helena looked at the medal.
“Why did you help him?”
Marcus finally turned.
May you like
“Because Thomas Callahan once saved my life.”
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