She nodded.
“They came to the house at night.”
“How many?”
“Three.”
“Did they come inside?”
“No.”
“What did they do?”
“They stood outside.”
“Then what?”
“Mom made us hide.”
“Where?”
“In the basement.”
“Did they leave?”
“After a long time.”
“Did your mom call the police?”
Lily shook her head.
“Why?”
“She said police couldn't help.”
Grant felt a knot form in his chest.
“Did she know those men?”
“I don't know.”
Lily lowered her voice.
“One of them knew Uncle Michael.”
Grant's pulse quickened.
“How do you know?”
“He said his name.”
“What exactly did he say?”
Lily closed her eyes, trying to remember.
“He said…”
She whispered:
“Tell Michael we're done waiting.”
Grant froze.
Tommy exchanged a look with Marcus.
“Did you see the man?”
“Yes.”
“What did he look like?”
“Gray hair.”
“Tall?”
She nodded.
“Did he have a beard?”
“No.”
“Glasses?”
“Yes.”
Grant looked at Marcus.
Marcus slowly opened his laptop.
“Alan Voss wears glasses.”
Grant stood.
“Find him.”
Marcus began typing.
Five minutes later, he looked up.
“Voss retired four years ago.”
“Where does he live?”
“Rural property outside Delaware.”
Grant grabbed his vest.
Tommy stood.
“Let's go.”
Grant shook his head.
“No.”
Tommy frowned.
“What?”
“If Voss is involved, twelve motorcycles showing up at his house will tell him we're coming.”
Tommy smiled slightly.
“So we'll take two.”
Grant looked at him.
“You're impossible.”
“You love me anyway.”
Grant almost smiled.
Almost.
He looked at Lily.
“I need to ask you one more thing.”
She nodded.
“Do you know where your mother is?”
Lily reached into her backpack.
She pulled out a small plastic key.
Grant stared.
“What is that?”
“Mom said you would know.”
Grant took it.
A number had been written on it.
214.
Nothing else.
He looked at Marcus.
“What does it open?”
Marcus examined it.
“Looks like a storage key.”
Grant remembered something.
Six years ago, Michael had rented a storage unit.
Grant had never known why.
The unit had been emptied after his disappearance.
Or so he had been told.
“Find the storage facility.”
Marcus searched.
Then stopped.
“There are three.”
“Which one?”
Marcus rotated the laptop.
“Unit 214 at Northside Storage.”
Grant stared.
The date on the key was old.
The unit had been rented six years ago.
By Michael Callahan.
Grant's heartbeat accelerated.
“Let's go.”
Lily stood.
Grant looked at her.
“You're coming with us?”
She nodded.
“Mom said I should stay with you.”
Grant looked at the little girl.
He realized something then.
She wasn't simply carrying a message.
She was carrying a secret.
And whatever Michael had hidden in that storage unit had been important enough for Sarah to risk everything to get Lily to him.
The Black River Riders left the diner in pairs.
Grant's Harley started first.
Its deep rumble rolled across the parking lot.
Lily watched him.
“Can I ride it?”
Grant smiled.
“Maybe someday.”
She smiled back.
Then the smile disappeared.
Because across the street, parked beneath a tree, was the same gray Chevrolet Tahoe.
The engine was running.
Grant saw it.
So did Tommy.
The Tahoe accelerated away.
Grant's face became hard.
“Now,” he said.
“It's not a coincidence.”
Storage Unit 214
Northside Storage sat behind an abandoned manufacturing complex.
The facility had once been busy.
Now weeds grew through cracks in the pavement, and half the security lights were broken.
Marcus had called ahead.
The manager agreed to open Unit 214 after Grant showed him the key and Michael's name.
The door rolled upward.
Dust filled the air.
Grant expected boxes.
Instead, there was almost nothing.
One wooden chair.
One metal filing cabinet.
A workbench.
And a motorcycle cover hanging from the ceiling.
Grant walked toward the workbench.
His fingers brushed the surface.
There was a carved symbol in the wood.
Two intertwined circles.
Michael's old signature.
Grant remembered it.
When they were boys, they used the symbol on secret notes.
Grant opened the filing cabinet.
Inside were documents.
Photographs.
Bank statements.
Newspaper clippings.
And a small cassette recorder.
Marcus picked it up.
“Old-school.”
Grant pressed play.
Static filled the room.
Then Michael's voice.
Grant froze.
“Grant, if you're hearing this, I'm probably already gone.”
Grant closed his eyes.
Michael continued.
“I don't know if they killed me. I don't know if I'll ever get the chance to explain. But if you found this, it means Sarah trusted you.”
Grant's breathing became shallow.
“I found evidence that someone inside the county was using missing-person cases to move money. People disappeared. Records were changed. Families were told what they needed to hear.”
Tommy whispered:
“What the hell?”
Michael's recording continued.
“Some of the people weren't dead. They were hidden.”
Grant stared at the recorder.
“Why?”
“I don't know everything. But I found names.”
Paper rustled.
“I found one name that kept appearing.”
A pause.
“Alan Voss.”
Grant's jaw clenched.
Michael continued.
“Voss isn't alone.”
Grant looked at Marcus.
The investigator was already photographing documents.
Michael's voice became quieter.
“If something happens to me, Sarah knows where Lily is. She knows not to trust the police. She knows to find Grant.”
Grant looked at Lily.
She was standing beside the doorway.
Michael's voice continued.
“Grant, I'm sorry.”
Grant's eyes filled.
“I know we fought. I know what you said. I know what I said.”
His voice cracked.
“But you were always my brother.”
Grant pressed his fist against his mouth.
“I never stopped believing you would come looking for me.”
The recording ended.
Silence.
For several seconds nobody spoke.
Then Lily asked:
“Was he nice?”
Grant turned toward her.
He smiled through tears.
“Yeah.”
“He loved you?”
Grant nodded.
“Very much.”
Lily looked down.
“Mom said he was proud of you.”
Grant looked away.
He couldn't speak.
Marcus found another envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
It showed Michael standing beside three people.
One was Voss.
Another was a county prosecutor.
The third was a man Grant didn't recognize.
On the back:
THE THIRD MAN OWNS THE TRANSPORT COMPANY.
Marcus looked at the photograph.
“I know him.”
“Who?”
“Raymond Pierce.”
Grant frowned.
“Pierce Logistics?”
Marcus nodded.
“One of the largest private transport companies in central Ohio.”
“What does that have to do with missing people?”
Marcus held up another document.
“Payments.”
Grant read the names.