"Why?"
"Because he was scared our phones were being monitored."
Noah's hands tightened.
"What happened next?"
"I drove to meet him."
"Where?"
"The old railway depot."
Noah looked at the map.
"Was he there?"
"His truck was."
"Was he?"
"No."
Ray paused.
"There was blood on the driver's door."
Noah's breath caught.
"Was he dead?"
"I didn't know."
"What did you do?"
"I called the police."
"Did they find anything?"
"They said there wasn't enough evidence."
Noah looked at the floor.
"And you believed them?"
Ray's expression hardened.
"No."
"Then why didn't you keep looking?"
"I did."
"What happened?"
"Someone threatened my family."
Noah looked up.
Ray's voice was quiet.
"My daughter was twelve."
He swallowed.
"I understood the message."
Silence filled the garage.
Noah suddenly understood why Ray had stopped searching.
Not because he didn't care.
Because someone had forced him to choose.
"Where is your daughter now?"
"California."
"Safe?"
"Yes."
Ray looked at Noah.
"That's all that matters."
Noah turned toward the old Harley.
"What did Dad hide?"
Ray frowned.
"I don't know."
Noah ran his hand along the fuel tank.
Then stopped.
"Wait."
"What?"
He crouched.
There was a small metal plate beneath the seat.
Noah removed it.
A tiny compartment appeared.
Inside was a folded photograph.
Ray took it.
His face changed.
"What?"
Ray turned the photograph over.
There were three people standing outside a garage.
Daniel Carter.
Ray Dawson.
And another man.
Noah recognized him.
"That's Sheriff Mason."
Ray's face went pale.
At that moment, the garage door rattled.
Both men froze.
Someone was outside.
Ray motioned for Noah to stay silent.
The handle turned.
Once.
Twice.
Then stopped.
A voice came through the door.
"Ray."
Ray's eyes narrowed.
Noah recognized the voice.
It was the large man from the rainy night.
Ray whispered:
"Get behind the office wall."
Noah moved.
The door opened.
Three men entered.
The large man looked around.
"We know the kid is here."
Ray stepped forward.
"You're trespassing."
The man smiled.
"You should've stayed in the hospital."
Ray looked at the other men.
"I suppose you want something."
"The ledger."
"I don't have it."
"You've been lying for two years."
Ray shook his head.
"You still don't understand."
"What?"
"The ledger isn't valuable because of what's written in it."
The man's smile faded.
"It's valuable because of who signed it."
Silence.
Noah listened.
The large man took a step.
"Where is it?"
Ray looked toward the office.
Then deliberately turned his gaze away.
Noah understood.
Ray was giving him a warning.
Run.
Noah slipped through the back door.
He sprinted behind the building.
Rainwater soaked his shoes.
He heard shouting behind him.
Then an engine.
Noah ran toward the road.
A motorcycle came around the corner.
Ray's second bike.
The passenger seat was empty.
Noah jumped on.
Ray had somehow gotten outside.
"Hold on!"
They disappeared down Mercer Road.
Behind them, the three men stood in the garage doorway.
The large man watched them vanish.
Then he smiled.
"They'll lead us to it."
The Key Marked Seventeen
Ray took Noah to an old farmhouse outside town.
The house belonged to a retired Iron Rider named Frank Morrison.
Frank was seventy-one and had the kind of face that looked carved from weathered wood.
He listened without interrupting while Ray explained everything.
When Ray finished, Frank looked at Noah.
"You're Daniel's boy."
Noah nodded.
Frank sighed.
"You look like him."
"Everyone keeps saying that."
"Because it's true."
Frank poured coffee.
Noah sat at the table.
"I have something my father left."
He pulled out the key.
Frank stared at it.
His hands stopped moving.
"Where did you get that?"
"My mother."
Frank reached toward it but didn't touch it.
"That key belonged to Daniel."
"What does seventeen mean?"
Frank looked at Ray.
Ray shook his head.
Frank sighed.
"Seventeen was Daniel's emergency number."
"What does that mean?"
"Whenever Daniel was in trouble, he used the number seventeen."
Noah frowned.
"Why?"
"Because nobody else knew what it meant."
Frank walked to an old cabinet.
He opened a drawer and removed a photograph.
It showed the Iron Riders standing together outside Dawson Motor Works.
Daniel stood in the center.
He was younger.
Smiling.
Alive.
Noah stared at him.
Frank pointed toward the bottom corner.
"Look."
There was a small marking.
"Your father believed the number could lead someone to his records."
"Where?"
Frank shook his head.
"He never told me."
Noah studied the key.
Then he remembered something.
"County Records."
Ray looked at him.
"What?"
"The map."
He explained.
Ray spread the map across the table.
The three men stared at it.
Frank suddenly pointed.
"There's an old archive underneath the courthouse."
Noah looked up.
"An archive?"
"Before digital records, everything was stored underground."
"Could the key open something there?"
"Maybe."
They drove into Millhaven before sunrise.
The courthouse was closed.
The archive entrance was behind the building.
Ray forced the rusty door open.
Inside was darkness.
They descended a narrow staircase.
Rows of filing cabinets filled the basement.
Dust covered everything.
Noah held the flashlight.