Chapter 6 - The Secret Daniel Hid Inside My Memory
I read Daniel's message six times.
It didn't make more sense the sixth time.
“How can I know something I don't know?”
Evan shrugged.
“Daniel loved annoying riddles.”
Elias was still in the hospital, pale and angry at every nurse who prevented him from leaving.
“Think,” he told me.
“Excellent advice.”
“What did Daniel tell you before he died?”
“Normal things.”
“Nothing unusual?”
I thought back.
Daniel's last week.
Coffee.
Arguments.
Evan's homework.
My physical therapy.
Then I remembered.
A song.
Daniel had driven me to therapy.
He kept playing the same song.
“Numbers,” I whispered.
“What?”
“He made me memorize numbers.”
Elias sat straighter.
“What numbers?”
I closed my eyes.
Daniel had turned it into a joke.
Seven.
Nineteen.
Three.
Eleven.
Twenty-eight.
Four.
I repeated them.
Marco wrote them down.
“Coordinates?” he asked.
“No.”
Evan looked at me.
“Books.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“Daniel used book ciphers with us when we were kids.”
Of course.
Page.
Line.
Word.
But which book?
Then I remembered the photograph from our apartment.
Daniel in uniform.
He was holding a book.
Our father's old copy of The Count of Monte Cristo.
The book was still on my bedside table.
Federal agents retrieved it.
Using the numbers produced a phrase.
Boston Harbor. Locker 314.
Inside locker 314 was a hard drive.
The final file.
Daniel's complete testimony.
Names.
Dates.
Recordings.
Enough to prove August had ordered Daniel's murder.
And enough to prove Elias hadn't.
That mattered more than I expected.
Because part of me had still wondered.
Had Elias told me everything?
Now I knew.
Daniel had trusted him.
More importantly, Daniel had forgiven him.
At the end of the recording, Daniel spoke directly to Elias.
“You're going to blame yourself.”
Elias watched silently.
“You always do.”
A faint smile.
“But if you're watching this, I'm asking you for one last favor.”
Elias swallowed.
“Live.”
That single word broke something in him.
Not visibly.
Elias rarely broke visibly.
But his hand found mine.
And held it.
Daniel continued.
“Don't become your father just because he taught you how.”
Elias lowered his head.
“Build something better.”
The recording ended.
August Baron was convicted on multiple federal charges.
Vincent survived his injuries and agreed to cooperate in exchange for a reduced sentence.
Dozens of corrupt officials and associates were exposed.
Elias surrendered records connected to his own organization.
It cost him millions.
Businesses closed.
Alliances collapsed.
People called him weak.
Traitor.
Finished.
He didn't care.
One evening, months later, we stood inside the Baron mansion.
Half the rooms were empty.
Paintings had been sold.
Security guards were gone.
“What happens now?” I asked.
“I sell this place.”
I stared at him.
“You love this house.”
“I hate this house.”
“You seem comfortable hating it.”
He smiled.
“I bought a smaller place.”
“How small?”
“Six bedrooms.”
I laughed.
“Elias.”
“What?”
“Normal people don't call six bedrooms small.”
“I've been sheltered.”
I looked toward the kitchen.
“So that's it?”
“For the old business?”
“Yes.”
“As much as possible.”
“And what will Elias Baron do without terrifying Boston?”
He pretended to think.
“Shipping.”
“Legal shipping?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Tragic.”
He smiled.
Then his expression changed.
“Adeline.”
I knew that tone.
Serious.
“What?”
“You don't owe me anything.”
“I know.”
“Your job. Evan's treatment. The apartment. None of it means you owe me.”
“I know.”
“I need you to understand that.”
I stepped closer.
“Why?”
“Because I'm about to ask you something, and I don't want gratitude to influence the answer.”
My heart accelerated.
“What are you asking?”
He looked nervous.
Elias Baron.
Nervous.
That alone was worth remembering.
“Dinner.”
I blinked.
“We've eaten dinner together.”
“No.”
He cleared his throat.
“Dinner.”
“Oh.”
“Yes.”
“You mean a date.”
“I was hoping not to use that word.”
“Why?”
“It sounds terrifying.”
“You've been shot.”
“This is worse.”
I smiled.
“Yes.”
He stared.
“Yes?”
“Yes.”
His shoulders relaxed.
Then my phone rang.
Evan.
I answered.
“What's wrong?”
His voice shook.
“Addie…”
I straightened.
“What?”
“Someone sent me something.”
My blood went cold.
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“What did they send?”
“A video.”
Elias took the phone.
“Evan, send it to me.”
Seconds later, the video arrived.
We watched.
Daniel appeared on screen.
But this wasn't one of the recordings we'd found.
He was sitting somewhere dark.
Bruised.
Bleeding.
Alive.
A date stamp appeared.
I grabbed Elias's arm.
“That date…”
“I see it.”
The recording had been made twelve hours after the time listed on Daniel's official death certificate.
Daniel looked directly into the camera.
“If Addie sees this…”
He coughed.
“…tell her the man in the car wasn't me.”
The video cut to black.
I couldn't breathe.
Elias stared at the screen.
“No.”
I looked at him.
“If Daniel wasn't in that car…”
Neither of us finished the sentence.
Because there was only one possibility.
My brother had survived the crash.
Which meant someone had killed him later.
May you like
And whoever sent us the video knew exactly what happened during the missing twelve hours.
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