"What does the other part mean?"
He was silent for several seconds.
"Because I once belonged to a club that I believed was better than the people who hated it."
Emily watched him.
"What happened?"
Frank set down his cup.
"I confused loyalty with obedience."
Before she could ask another question, a motorcycle engine sounded outside.
Then another.
Frank turned toward the window.
Six motorcycles entered the parking lot.
Cole Blackwood was at the front.
Emily's face went pale.
"How did they find us?"
Frank looked toward the side entrance.
"They probably followed you after all."
"Then what do we do?"
Frank slid out of the booth.
"Stay here."
"No."
"Emily—"
"I'm not hiding while you deal with this."
Frank studied her.
For a moment, he saw Daniel in her expression. The same stubbornness. The same refusal to accept that danger was a reason to surrender.
"All right," he said. "But let me do the talking."
The front door opened.
Cole entered with two men behind him.
The others remained outside.
He looked around the diner, spotted Frank, and smiled.
"Well, would you look at that."
He walked toward the booth.
"Seems like our old friend has made some new friends."
Frank remained standing.
"What do you want, Cole?"
Cole pulled out the opposite side of the booth and sat down without invitation.
"Coffee."
The waitress approached nervously.
Cole smiled at her.
"Black. No sugar."
She hurried away.
Cole looked at Emily.
"You're Daniel Hayes's daughter."
Emily said nothing.
"Pretty girl. Shame about the shop."
Frank's eyes hardened.
Cole noticed.
"There it is," he said softly. "That's the look I was waiting for."
"What look?"
"The one that says I finally found something you care about."
Frank's voice remained calm.
"If you burned her shop, you're making a serious mistake."
Cole laughed.
"That's a big accusation."
"Then answer the question."
"I didn't burn anything."
"Did you order someone to?"
Cole leaned back.
"You know what your problem is, Frank?"
Frank said nothing.
"You think the world owes you a conversation. You walk around with that old motorcycle and those sad eyes, and you expect everybody to treat you like some kind of legend."
He pointed toward the window.
"Look at my men. Look at their bikes. Look at what we've built. We have businesses, money, connections. People know who we are."
Frank looked at him.
"That's what worries me."
Cole's smile faded.
The waitress returned with his coffee.
He waited until she left before continuing.
"Let's stop wasting time. I want the ledger."
Emily tightened her grip on the canvas bag.
"It's not for sale."
Cole glanced at her.
"Everything's for sale."
"Not this."
He smiled.
"Your father used to say that."
Emily stiffened.
"You knew my father?"
"Not personally. But I know plenty about him."
Cole took a sip of coffee.
"He was a stubborn man. He thought he could take down people who were bigger than him. He thought he could expose an operation that had existed longer than he'd been alive."
He looked at Frank.
"Sounds familiar."
Frank's expression did not change.
Cole leaned forward.
"Here's how this works. You give me the ledger. I forget you ever existed. Your little garage gets repaired. The insurance company suddenly becomes cooperative. You and your mother move somewhere quiet, and nobody bothers you again."
Emily stared at him.
"And if I refuse?"
Cole shrugged.
"Then you discover that old buildings are surprisingly easy to burn."
Frank moved one step closer.
"You should leave."
Cole looked up.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me."
For a moment, Cole appeared genuinely surprised.
Then he began laughing.
"You think you're going to throw me out?"
Frank's voice was almost gentle.
"No."
He glanced at the front door.
"I think you're going to leave because you're starting to realize that this conversation isn't going the way you planned."
Cole's laughter stopped.
He looked at Frank's face.
Something in the old man's calmness unsettled him again.
He had expected anger. He had expected threats. He had expected Frank to stand up and challenge him, giving Cole an excuse to demonstrate his authority.
Instead, Frank seemed completely uninterested in proving anything.
Cole stood.
"Fine."
He adjusted his vest.
"But you should remember something, old man. People who spend too much time digging up the past usually discover something they'd rather leave buried."
Frank met his eyes.
"I already have."
Cole paused.
For the first time, the younger man seemed unsure of himself.
Then he turned toward the door.
"Let's go, boys."
His companions followed.
Outside, engines started one by one.
The motorcycles pulled onto the highway and disappeared into the heat.
Emily remained standing beside the booth.
Her hands were shaking.
Frank sat down and pushed his untouched coffee away.
"Now what?" she asked.
Frank took a breath.
"Now we find out why Cole is afraid of that ledger."
"You think he's afraid?"
"Yes."
"Then why does he act like he owns the world?"
Frank looked toward the window.
"Because fear is easier to hide when you're the one making other people feel it."
Emily sat down.
"Where do we go?"
Frank removed a folded map from his jacket.
He opened it on the table.
The coordinates from the ledger were marked in pencil.
"To the old mining facility."
They left the diner separately and met again at a junction twenty miles farther west.
From there, they traveled north.
The road narrowed as they entered the foothills. The landscape changed from open desert to rocky hills covered in thorny brush. Dry washes cut across the route, and the mountains rose higher with every mile.
Frank rode slowly, studying the ground.
Emily followed in her truck.
After an hour, they reached a gate hanging from one rusted hinge.
Beyond it lay an abandoned mining road.
Frank stopped the motorcycle.
He examined the gate, then the ground beside it.
Fresh tire tracks crossed the dirt.
He crouched.
The tracks were less than a day old.
Emily climbed out of her truck.
"Someone's been here."
Frank nodded.
"Recently."
"Could it be Cole?"
"Could be."
He looked toward the hills.
The old mine lay another mile ahead.
They continued on foot, leaving the vehicles behind a stand of mesquite trees.
The road ended at a wide depression in the earth. Beyond it stood the remains of a mining facility: a collapsed shed, several rusted storage tanks, and a narrow concrete building half buried in sand.
Frank approached the concrete structure.
A faded number had been painted beside the door.
Seven.
He stopped.
Emily looked at him.
"What is it?"
"I've been here before."
"When?"
"About thirty years ago."
"With my father?"
Frank nodded.
"Daniel said he had found a place where certain records were being stored. We came here to investigate."
Emily looked around.
"What happened?"
"We found the building empty."
Frank walked toward the door.
"At least, that's what we thought."
He pulled a small flashlight from his pocket and examined the lock.
The metal had been cut recently.
He pushed the door.
It opened with a long, rusted groan.
Inside, the air smelled of dust, oil, and damp concrete.
A narrow corridor led to a small room.
The walls were covered in old shelves. Most were empty, but several boxes remained stacked in the corner.
Emily stepped inside.
"These look ancient."
Frank opened the nearest box.
Inside were papers, photographs, and several small metal tags.
He examined the first photograph.
It showed a row of motorcycles parked outside a warehouse.
The date on the back was twenty-nine years old.
Daniel stood near the center.
Beside him was Victor Shaw.
And beside Victor stood a younger Martin Blackwood.
Frank felt his pulse quicken.
He opened another box.
More photographs.
Invoices.
Vehicle registration documents.
Then he found a small metal case.
It was locked.
Emily examined the clasp.
"Can you open it?"
Frank removed a tool from his pocket.
"Probably."
He worked the lock for several minutes until it clicked.
Inside lay a cassette tape, a folded letter, and a small key attached to a brass tag.
The tag bore a name.
DESERT STAR.
Frank stared at it.
Emily whispered, "The gas station."
He picked up the letter.
The handwriting was Daniel's.
Frank,
If you are reading this, then something has gone wrong. I don't know whether I will be able to explain everything in person. I have learned that the people we trusted are not who they claim to be. Shaw has been selling information to Martin Blackwood, and Vance is helping them keep the operation hidden.
The ledger is only part of the evidence. The tape contains the names of the people who ordered the original thefts. I have made a copy of the records and hidden it somewhere neither Shaw nor Blackwood will think to look.
If I don't make it back, go to Walter Grady at Desert Star. He knows where the final evidence is hidden. Do not trust anyone who says they are helping you unless you can verify their story.
And Frank, if you are still alive, tell Susan that I never stopped loving her. Tell my daughter that I wanted to meet her.
Frank lowered the letter.
Emily was crying silently.
"He knew about me," she whispered.
Frank nodded.
"He knew."
"He wanted to meet me."
"Yes."
Emily pressed a hand against her mouth.
For several seconds, she could not speak.
Then she looked at the cassette tape.
"What's on it?"
Frank turned the cassette over.
A date had been written on the label.
The night Daniel died.
Frank closed his eyes.
"Everything."
A sound came from outside.
Gravel shifted beneath a heavy boot.
Frank extinguished the flashlight.
He moved toward the doorway and signaled Emily to stay behind him.
Another footstep.
Then a voice.
"Well, well."
Cole Blackwood stood outside the building.
Behind him were four men.
He smiled.
"Looks like you found what I was looking for."
Frank stepped into the doorway.
"How long have you been following us?"
Cole shrugged.
"Long enough."
Emily held the cassette and letter close to her chest.
Cole's gaze moved toward her.
"Give me the case."
Frank shook his head.
"No."
Cole sighed.
"Frank, I really hoped you'd make this easier."
He gestured to his men.
They began moving toward the entrance.
Frank looked at the narrow corridor, the concrete walls, and the broken shelves.
Then he looked at Cole.
"One more chance to walk away."
Cole laughed.
"You don't have a chance."
Frank's expression became very still.
"That's what Daniel said."
The smile vanished from Cole's face.
For a moment, the desert seemed to hold its breath.
Then Cole raised his hand.
"Take it."
The men rushed forward.
And the past finally caught up with Frank Morrison.