Chapter 6 - Trent Breaks the Rules Again
Detective Ramirez wanted the clock moved into evidence.
Selian wanted it taken somewhere no one knew existed.
Saraphene wanted everyone to stop deciding what happened to an object her grandfather had spent years protecting.
In the end, Saraphene won.
Not because she had the most authority.
Because she possessed the keys.
She placed both in her pocket.
“No one opens it until my mother is safe.”
Ramirez nodded.
“Fair.”
Selian said nothing.
That silence was his version of agreement.
Adrian confirmed Saraphene's mother had been moved to a secure hotel under an assumed reservation. Two licensed guards remained nearby.
Only then did Saraphene return to the clock.
The mechanism required both keys to turn simultaneously.
Ramirez wore gloves on one.
Saraphene held the other.
“Three,” the detective said.
“Two.”
“One.”
They turned.
Deep inside the clock, metal clicked.
A hidden drawer slid from the base.
No ledger.
Only a small cassette tape and a sealed envelope.
The handwriting belonged to Joseph Winters.
FOR SELIAN ASHFORD.
Selian looked at Saraphene.
She handed it to him.
His fingers were perfectly steady.
The rest of him wasn't.
Inside was a letter.
Selian read silently.
His jaw tightened.
Then he passed it to Saraphene.
> Selian,
>
> If you are reading this, Elias was right that you would eventually find your way here.
>
> Your brother came to me because he believed powerful men were following him. He gave me records and asked me to hide them until he could contact federal investigators.
>
> I did not keep the records in the clock.
>
> I kept only what was necessary to find them.
>
> Elias feared one person more than the others.
>
> Not Trent Morrison.
>
> Victor Lane.
>
> But Victor was not working alone.
>
> Someone close to your family helped him.
>
> I am sorry.
>
> Joseph Winters
Selian read the final lines again.
“Someone close to my family.”
Adrian’s expression changed.
“Could mean dozens of people.”
“No,” Selian said. “Elias wouldn't describe business associates as family.”
Saraphene picked up the cassette.
“Then this matters.”
The storage facility manager somehow located an old cassette player.
It took twenty minutes.
No one complained.
When they pressed play, static filled the small office.
Then Elias Ashford spoke.
Selian stopped breathing.
The recording was quiet.
Older.
Damaged.
But unmistakable.
“If Joseph is playing this for you, something happened before I reached the authorities.”
A pause.
“I found where Halden Ridge moved the money. Victor Lane built the system, but he wasn't the one protecting it.”
More static.
A scraping sound.
Then:
“Someone in my family gave him access.”
Selian closed his eyes.
Elias continued.
“I haven't written the name here because I'm no longer sure who will find this.”
Saraphene glanced toward Selian.
His face looked carved from stone.
“The full ledger is safe,” Elias said. “Joseph knows how to locate it. There are three coordinates hidden where time stops twice.”
The tape crackled.
“Selian, if you hear this—don't become Father trying to avenge me.”
Selian's head lowered.
“Finish what we started. Make the family clean. Make our name mean something better.”
Silence.
Then the tape clicked off.
No one moved.
Saraphene looked at Selian.
She wanted to say something.
There was nothing adequate.
Finally Selian left the office.
She followed him outside.
He stood beside the building beneath a gray early-morning sky.
“Selian.”
“I'm fine.”
“That's usually my line.”
He looked at her.
She stopped a few feet away.
“Your brother knew you would look for him.”
“Yes.”
“He also knew what you'd be tempted to do.”
Selian gave a humorless smile.
“He knew me very well.”
“You listened.”
“To what?”
“You changed your businesses.”
“That doesn't mean I'm the man he wanted me to become.”
“Maybe becoming that man is the part that takes time.”
Selian stared into the distance.
“Why are you comforting me?”
“I'm not.”
“No?”
“I'm reminding you that if you go after Trent because he mentioned Elias, you become useful to him.”
Selian looked back.
Saraphene folded her arms.
“So don't.”
Several seconds passed.
“Fine.”
“That's it?”
“What do you want, applause?”
“I expected more resistance.”
“You're annoyingly persuasive.”
“Good.”
His eyes rested on her face longer than necessary.
Saraphene became suddenly aware of the silence between them.
Not fear.
Something else.
She broke eye contact first.
“Three coordinates hidden where time stops twice.”
Selian’s expression sharpened again.
“The clocks.”
“My grandfather repaired thousands.”
“But ‘where time stops twice’ sounds specific.”
Saraphene thought about the shop.
Two clocks that never worked.
Decorations.
One hung permanently at 4:17 because its mechanism had been removed.
Another old railway clock frozen at 9:32.
Grandfather had refused to repair either.
She looked at Selian.
“I know where to look.”
The police brought them back to Wexler Street.
The two broken clocks were gone.
But outlines remained on the wall.
One at the front.
One in the back workshop.
Behind each was a small set of numbers written directly onto brick.
Latitude.
Longitude.
The coordinates pointed to a rural property two hours north.
A defunct observatory once owned by—
Saraphene read the property record twice.
“Elias Ashford.”
Selian looked stunned.
“He bought an observatory?”
“Three weeks before he disappeared.”
They were preparing to leave when Ramirez’s phone rang.
Her face hardened.
“Saraphene.”
Something in her voice made everyone stop.
“What?”
“Your mother’s hotel.”
Saraphene's chest seized.
“What happened?”
“One of the guards was found unconscious in the stairwell.”
Selian was already moving.
“Where is her mother?”
Ramirez listened.
Then relief.
“Safe. Police are with her.”
Saraphene exhaled.
“Then what happened?”
Ramirez looked directly at her.
“Someone delivered a package to the room.”
“What package?”
“A phone.”
Saraphene knew before Ramirez continued.
“It rang once. Your mother answered.”
“And?”
Ramirez’s voice lowered.
“Morrison told her he wants to speak to you.”
“No.”
Selian’s response was immediate.
Saraphene ignored him.
“What did he say?”
Ramirez checked her notes.
“Exact words: ‘Tell Saraphene she has until sunset to remember why I chose her.’”
Saraphene’s skin turned cold.
Why I chose her.
Not loved her.
Chose.
Selian watched her carefully.
“What does it mean?”
“I don’t know.”
But somewhere beneath the fear, a memory was trying to surface.
The night she met Trent.
A charity bookstore event.
She had been helping her grandfather.
Trent had approached her first.
Asked her name.
Then asked—
Saraphene's eyes widened.
“What?” Selian asked.
“The first question Trent ever asked me.”
“What was it?”
“He asked if I was Joseph Winters’s granddaughter.”
No one spoke.
Saraphene felt sick.
Their entire relationship began with her grandfather.
Two years.
Promises.
Control.
Fear.
All of it.
Selian looked furious on her behalf.
Saraphene felt something different.
Clarity.
“He never accidentally met me.”
“No,” Selian said.
“He chose me because of my grandfather.”
“Yes.”
The truth should have broken her.
Instead, it burned away the final illusion.
Saraphene looked toward the road leading north.
“Then we go to Elias’s observatory.”
Ramirez frowned.
“Morrison expects that.”
“I know.”
Selian studied her.
“What are you planning?”
“For eight months I've reacted to whatever Trent does.”
She took the two brass keys from her pocket.
“I'm done reacting.”
The woman who had run into a restroom less than twenty-four hours ago was still afraid.
But fear no longer controlled the direction she moved.
“Let's find the ledger before he does.”
And two hours later, when they reached Elias Ashford’s abandoned observatory, they found the front door already open.
On the dusty floor inside were Trent Morrison’s footprints.
May you like
Fresh.
---
