Chapter 2 - My Father’s Second Life
I followed Adrian into his office because walking away had stopped being possible.
Marcus entered behind us.
Whitman wasn't invited.
“Start talking,” I said.
Adrian poured himself water.
“You speak to everyone like this?”
“Only men who casually tell me my dead father worked for the mafia.”
“Fair.”
He opened a drawer and removed an old photograph.
My knees nearly gave out.
My father stood beside a younger Adrian outside a warehouse.
Daniel Carter.
Same crooked smile.
Same battered brown jacket.
Same watch I'd inherited.
“What was he doing there?”
“Protecting my father.”
“My dad repaired farm equipment.”
“He did that too.”
I looked at Marcus.
“Is this some sick joke?”
“No,” Marcus said.
“Daniel Carter was one of the best firearms instructors I ever met.”
I looked back at the photograph.
Suddenly childhood made different sense.
The locked cabinet.
The shooting drills.
My father's obsession with exits.
His habit of sitting where he could see doors.
“Why would he work for Moretti?”
Adrian answered.
“Because twenty years ago, my father helped Daniel disappear from another life.”
“What life?”
“Federal contractor. Security work overseas. He came home, wanted out, and eventually moved to Ohio.”
I laughed without humor.
“So my entire childhood was a lie.”
“No.”
Adrian leaned against the desk.
“Daniel loved you. That part wasn't.”
“You didn't know him like I did.”
“I knew him well enough to know he talked about you constantly.”
That hurt worse.
I put the photograph down.
“What happened six years ago?”
Marcus and Adrian exchanged a look.
I saw it.
“No. Don't do that.”
“Do what?” Adrian asked.
“That silent mafia communication thing.”
Marcus almost smiled.
“She's observant.”
“Marcus.”
“Sorry.”
Adrian opened another folder.
“Daniel contacted us six years ago. He believed someone inside my organization was stealing money and selling information.”
“Who?”
“We never learned.”
“What happened?”
“He arranged a meeting.”
Adrian paused.
“He never arrived.”
My voice became quieter.
“The next morning, Sheriff Bell came to our house.”
I could still see him standing on the porch.
Hat in his hands.
“Dad's truck had gone over a ravine. They said there'd been a fire.”
Marcus asked, “You never saw him?”
“No.”
“Dental identification?”
“They told me there wasn't enough.”
Adrian's jaw tightened.
“That wasn't Daniel's truck.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“We checked the vehicle identification years later. Someone had switched the plates.”
My hands started shaking.
“You knew?”
“We discovered it eighteen months ago.”
“And nobody told me?”
“We didn't know you existed.”
“You just said he talked about me.”
“Daniel never used your full name. He called you Rosie.”
I froze.
Nobody had called me that since my father disappeared.
Marcus looked toward Adrian.
“That confirms it.”
I backed away.
“No.”
Adrian moved forward.
“Grace.”
“Don't.”
He stopped.
I needed air.
Then someone knocked.
Marcus opened the door.
A guard whispered something.
His expression changed.
“What?”
Marcus looked at Adrian.
“Cole left.”
“So?”
“He didn't go home.”
Marcus placed a phone on the desk.
Security footage appeared.
Whitman was outside the mansion speaking to someone beside a black SUV.
The other man's face wasn't visible.
Then Whitman handed him something.
A photograph.
My photograph.
I felt cold.
“Why does he have my picture?”
Adrian's face became stone.
“Because he recognized your last name too.”
The SUV drove away.
Marcus said, “I'll find him.”
“No,” Adrian replied.
Then he looked at me.
“We find out who he called first.”
I shook my head.
“I'm leaving.”
“You can't.”
“Watch me.”
“Grace, someone just walked out of my house carrying your photograph.”
“I don't care.”
“You should.”
I reached the door.
Adrian's next words stopped me.
“Daniel's last message mentioned Cole.”
I turned slowly.
“What did it say?”
Adrian pulled an old handwritten note from the folder.
Three words were underlined.
Ask about Cole.
I stared at them.
Then at Adrian.
“Find Whitman.”
Marcus nodded.
I picked up my coat.
Adrian frowned.
“Where are you going?”
“With you.”
“No.”
“You dragged me into a shooting contest, exposed my father's secret life, and showed me evidence that Whitman might know why he disappeared.”
I stepped closer.
“You don't get to tell me to wait upstairs.”
For several seconds, Adrian said nothing.
Then Marcus cleared his throat.
“I like her.”
Adrian shot him a look.
Marcus shrugged.
“She shoots better than I do.”
I grabbed the photograph of my father.
“Where's Whitman?”
Marcus checked his phone.
“East River warehouse district.”
Adrian reached for his coat.
“Grace stays between us.”
“I don't need protecting.”
Adrian opened the door.
“Tonight isn't about what you need.”
“What is it about?”
He looked at Daniel's photograph in my hand.
May you like
“Finding out whether your father is actually dead.”
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