Chapter 4 - Locker 317
Locker 317 was located at South Station.
Kayla knew because she had driven Trent there twice.
She had never questioned him.
Not until investigators walked him out of the gala.
Inside locker 317 was not money.
It was worse.
Records.
Years of them.
Receipts showed Trent had been diverting shelter donations.
Adoption fees.
Medical grants.
Private gifts.
But several transfers appeared to come from accounts bearing the Cade name.
Damon read silently.
Joe watched his face.
“Were these yours?”
“No.”
“Your brother?”
“Possibly.”
Then Joe found a handwritten ledger.
At the bottom of one page were four words:
TANK KNOWS THE ROUTE.
Joe looked up.
“What does that mean?”
Damon closed his eyes.
Tank had originally belonged to Adrian.
That was the secret Damon had never mentioned.
Four years earlier, when Adrian vanished, Tank had appeared outside Damon's waterfront home alone.
No collar.
No note.
Damon had kept him.
From that day forward, the dog had become anxious around unfamiliar places.
Joe suddenly understood.
Tank hadn't merely been traumatized.
He had lost someone.
“Take us where Adrian used to go,” Joe said.
Damon stared at her.
“Joe—”
“Dogs remember.”
Two hours later they stood outside an abandoned boat-repair warehouse near the Boston harbor.
Tank pulled toward the door.
Inside, they found a man sitting beside an old space heater.
Older than the photograph.
Thinner.
But unmistakably Damon’s brother.
Adrian Cade looked at Damon.
Then at Tank.
Tank broke free.
He crossed the warehouse and pressed his entire body against Adrian.
Adrian buried his face in the dog's neck.
Damon said nothing for a long time.
Finally:
“Four years.”
Adrian looked up.
“I was trying to protect you.”
Damon laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
“From what?”
Adrian's eyes moved toward Joe.
“Not what.”
“Who.”
Then he said a name Damon never expected.
“Trent Mercer wasn't running this.”
Joe's stomach tightened.
“Then who was?”
May you like
Adrian answered:
“Someone inside Damon's company.”
