Raymond Dalton smiled.
“My father died last month.”
She felt nothing.
Then he said,
“And he left something that belongs to you.”
Walter wanted Raymond Dalton gone.
Lily wanted answers.
They compromised badly.
Raymond sat in Walter’s office while Marcus, Nadia and three other Iron Ravens gathered nearby.
Lily immediately disliked the arrangement.
“This isn’t a trial.”
Walter said,
“No.”
“Then why is everyone here?”
“Because Dalton shouldn’t be alone with you.”
Raymond laughed.
“You still think my family carries disease?”
Walter ignored him.
Lily sat opposite Raymond.
“What did your father leave?”
Raymond placed a key on the desk.
Small.
Brass.
Number engraved:
“Storage unit.”
“Where?”
“Reno.”
Walter frowned.
“Why would Ray leave Ben’s daughter a storage unit?”
Raymond looked at Lily.
“He didn’t.”
“Then?”
“My father left it to me.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
Raymond folded his hands.
“I opened it.”
Inside he found old motorcycle parts.
Club photographs.
Documents.
And a box labeled:
BEN HARPER.
Walter leaned forward.
“What documents?”
“Letters.”
Lily’s stomach tightened.
“From Dad?”
“To my father.”
Walter looked shocked.
Lily asked,
“How many?”
“Twenty-two.”
“When?”
“1999 through 2003.”
Walter whispered,
“Ben wrote Ray?”
Raymond nodded.
Lily could not understand.
Her father hated Ray.
Why write?
“What did they say?”
“I didn’t read all of them.”
“Did you read any?”
“Yes.”
“Then tell me.”
Raymond hesitated.
“Your father believed my father wasn’t the only person involved in framing him.”
Walter went still.
“What?”
Raymond looked at him.
“You didn’t know.”
“No.”
Lily said,
“Who else?”
“My father never named anyone.”
Marcus stepped forward.
“Convenient.”
Raymond shrugged.
“He was dying. Dementia before that. Some days he remembered. Some days he didn’t.”
Walter said,
“Why bring this now?”
“Because I found something else.”
He removed a photograph.
Six young men stood beside motorcycles.
The founding six.
Lily immediately recognized her father.
Young.
Smiling.
Longer hair.
He looked happy in a way Lily had rarely seen.
Ray stood at one end.
Walter at the other.
Raymond turned the photograph over.
On the back, Ray had written:
BEN WAS RIGHT ABOUT THE SECOND MAN.
Below it:
ASK WHO HAD THE LEDGER.
Walter’s face drained.
Lily saw it.
“You know what that means.”
Walter did not answer.
“Walter.”
He stood.
“Ray kept the club ledger?”
Marcus said,
“Not back then. Treasurer did.”
Everybody looked at Walter.
Lily’s heart sank.
“You were treasurer.”
“Yes.”
Raymond smiled without humor.
“That’s why I came here.”
Walter stared at him.
“You think I helped frame Ben?”
“I don’t know.”
Lily stood.
“Where’s the storage unit?”
“Reno.”
“Take me.”
Walter immediately said,
“No.”
Lily turned.
“You don’t decide.”
“There could be nothing there.”
“Then I’ll find nothing.”
“Raymond can bring the box.”
Raymond shook his head.
“I won’t.”
Marcus stepped toward him.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t trust any of you.”
Nadia said,
“Interesting family trait.”
Lily looked at Raymond.
“Do you trust me?”
“No.”
“Good.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Why good?”
“Because I don’t trust you either.”
She picked up the key.
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
Walter said,
“I’m coming.”
Lily said,
“No.”
“I knew your father.”
“Exactly.”
Walter stiffened.
“If Dad thought somebody else framed him, maybe it was someone in the club.”
“Yes.”
“Maybe you.”
The accusation hurt him.
Lily saw that.
She did not retract it.
Walter nodded.
“That’s fair.”
Again.
Always fair.
The next morning, they drove to Reno in two vehicles.
Lily rode with Nadia.
Walter and Marcus followed.
Raymond drove alone.
The storage facility sat outside the city.
Unit 314 smelled of dust and old gasoline.
Boxes filled the space.
Motorcycle frame.
Helmets.
Club photographs.
Raymond pointed toward a gray container.
Lily opened it.
Twenty-two letters.
All in Benjamin’s handwriting.
She knew it instantly.
Dad wrote in block capitals because his cursive was terrible.
The first letter was dated February 1999.
Ray,
I know you planted the money.
I also know you didn’t think of it alone.
Lily stopped.
Walter leaned closer.
She pulled the letter away.
“My letter.”
He nodded.
She continued.
Ben wrote that he believed Ray had been pressured by somebody inside the club.
Somebody who knew exactly when the charity money would be moved.
Somebody who controlled the ledger.
Someone who knew Ben’s truck would be unattended.
Lily looked at Walter.
“You.”
Walter looked ill.
“Read the next one.”
The second letter mentioned a discrepancy.
The club ledger Walter submitted to police was missing two pages.
Walter whispered,
“No.”
Marcus looked at him.
“Red?”
“I didn’t remove them.”
Lily kept reading.
Ben suspected someone had accessed the ledger after Walter locked it in the office.
The third letter named another founder.
Pete Halley.
Walter sat down.
Marcus said,
“Pete?”
Nadia cursed.
Pete Halley had been club vice president.
Later president.
He died in 2015.
Lily read.
According to Ben, Pete had gambling connections.
He had convinced Ray to steal the charity fund.
Ray agreed because of debt.
Pete then suggested framing Ben, whose financial problems made him believable.
Ray did it.
Why?
Because Pete intended to keep most of the money.
Ray received only a small portion.
“That’s why Ray turned eventually,” Walter said.
“But why didn’t he tell police about Pete?” Lily asked.
Raymond answered.
“Fear.”
Everyone looked at him.
“My father feared Pete more than prison.”
The letters revealed something worse.
After Ben’s conviction was overturned, he contacted Ray secretly.
Ray confessed privately but refused to testify further.
Ben did not have enough evidence.
Pete remained respected.
Eventually became Iron Ravens president.
Lily looked around at them.
“You honored him?”
Nobody answered.
Marcus finally said,
“Yes.”
“Funeral?”
“Yes.”
“Club memorial?”
“Yes.”
Walter looked sick.
Lily laughed bitterly.
“You buried the man who framed my dad as a hero.”
“We didn’t know.”
“That seems to happen a lot.”
Walter had no answer.
They searched the remaining box.
At the bottom was an old cassette recorder.
Three tapes.
One labeled:
PETE — 2001.
Raymond said,
“I haven’t listened.”
Walter found batteries.
The machine hissed.
Then Ray’s voice.
Young.
Nervous.
Another voice answered.
Pete.
Walter recognized it immediately.
The recording was poor.
But clear enough.
Pete demanded Ray stay quiet.
Mentioned the missing ledger pages.
Mentioned “putting Ben in the hole because nobody would question a broke mechanic.”
Marcus stood abruptly.
“Son of a bitch.”
Lily sat perfectly still.
Her father had been right.
He had spent years knowing the truth while the men who betrayed him celebrated the real culprit.
The tape continued.
Pete threatened Ray.
Then came the final line.
“If Harper ever comes back around, I’ll make sure his kid grows up without him.”
Lily stopped the tape.
Nobody moved.
Walter whispered,
“Kid?”
Lily looked at the date.
Six years before her birth.
“There was no kid.”
Raymond frowned.
“Maybe he meant future kids.”
Nadia shook her head.
“No.”
Lily looked at Walter.
“You’re hiding something.”
His face changed.
“What?”
“My dad had another child.”
Walter stood.
“No.”
“You reacted.”
“Because Ben didn’t have—”
He stopped.
Lily saw it.
“What?”
Walter looked toward an old photograph.
“Oh God.”
Marcus said,
“Red?”
Walter sat slowly.
“Ben had a girlfriend before Teresa.”
Lily stared.
“Name?”
“Anna Mercer.”
“Child?”
“I don’t know.”
“You just reacted.”
“Anna disappeared after Ben’s conviction.”
“Pregnant?”
Walter looked at her.
“She might have been.”
Lily felt the room tilt.
All her life she believed she had no family.
Now one sentence changed that.
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
Raymond opened another envelope.
Inside was a birth certificate photocopy.
Name:
ELIZABETH ANNE MERCER.
Father:
Not listed.
Date of birth:
October 1998.
Lily’s hands shook.
Walter whispered,
“Six months after Ben went to prison.”
Lily looked at him.
“You think she’s my sister.”
“Yes.”
Suddenly the story was no longer about the Iron Ravens.
Not really.
It was about another person.
Another daughter.
Another life her father had never told her about.
Lily folded the birth certificate.
“Find her.”
Walter nodded.
“We will.”
“No.”
She looked directly at him.
“I will.”
Elizabeth Mercer was easier to find than Lily expected.
Harder to approach.
She lived in Eugene, Oregon.
Age twenty-seven.
Emergency-room nurse.
Married name: Elizabeth Vaughn.
No children.
Walter hired a private investigator.
Lily objected until Walter explained they would use only public records.
Three days later, Lily stood outside a hospital café in Eugene.
She had nearly turned around six times.
Nadia waited twenty feet away.
Not beside her.
Lily asked for that.
Elizabeth came through the doors at 6:15 p.m.
Lily knew immediately.
Not because they looked alike.
They did, slightly.
Same eyes.
But because Elizabeth moved like Benjamin.
Quick steps.
Shoulders slightly forward.
Keys clipped to belt loop.