Chapter 2 - Walter Pike Was a Lie
Renley refused to sit.
Roman's enormous living room had couches that probably cost more than her mother's car, but sitting made her feel trapped.
So she remained near the door while Roman stood by a window watching the black sedan disappear.
Jonah brought her bicycle inside.
The second guard, Miles, locked the doors.
Renley noticed.
“You said you'd let me leave.”
“I will.”
“When?”
“When I know nobody followed you.”
“My mom is going to worry.”
Roman immediately turned.
“Call her.”
The answer surprised her.
He handed her a phone.
Renley called and explained that the kitchen had accidentally sent her too far and that someone was arranging a ride home.
It wasn't exactly a lie.
Roman waited until she finished before asking, “Did Walter ever mention me?”
“No.”
“Did he ever say anything about his family?”
“He said he didn't have one.”
Roman's expression hardened.
“That sounds like him.”
Renley studied the feared man.
“You're angry at him.”
Roman looked toward the chandelier.
“I spent twelve years believing he was dead.”
Renley froze.
Roman poured water into a glass but didn't drink.
“Twelve years ago, my father disappeared. No body. No message. Nothing. People told me he had been murdered. Others said he'd abandoned us.”
“But he lived twenty minutes away.”
“Apparently.”
That hurt him more than Renley expected.
Roman had money.
Power.
Guards.
A mansion.
Yet Walter Pike had lived alone in an apartment receiving free soup.
“Why didn't he tell you?”
Roman looked down at the brass key.
“That's what we're going to find out.”
The food container had an unusual removable bottom.
Miles discovered a folded envelope hidden beneath it.
Roman recognized the handwriting before opening it.
His hands shook again.
Roman,
If you're reading this, then either I'm dead or I finally became braver than I've been for twelve years. Knowing me, death is more likely.
Roman stopped.
Renley saw his jaw tighten.
He continued.
You will want to be angry. You have earned that anger. But before you use it, understand why I left.
I did not disappear because I stopped loving you. I disappeared because staying near you would have gotten you killed.
Roman's eyes moved faster.
There is a book.
Not a Bible. Not a diary. A ledger.
Roman looked at Miles.
Miles went pale.
Renley didn't understand why.
Roman continued.
It contains names, dates, payments, judges, officers, politicians, businesses, and graves.
People have killed for less.
I took it when I left.
Roman lowered the letter.
“Damn you, Dad.”
Renley whispered, “What's a ledger?”
Roman looked at her.
“A record.”
“Of what?”
“Bad decisions.”
Miles interrupted.
“Boss, if Walter really kept that thing—”
Roman gave him a warning look.
Renley crossed her arms.
“You keep talking like I'm not here.”
Roman stared at her for a moment.
“You're twelve.”
“I can still hear.”
Unexpectedly, Miles almost smiled.
Roman didn't.
He resumed reading.
Do not search the apartment. They already have.
Do not trust anyone who knows the old organization.
Roman's face darkened.
Then came the line that made him look at Renley.
Trust the girl.
He reread it.
Renley pointed at herself.
“Me?”
Roman continued.
Her name is Renley Hart. She brought me dinner every Thursday for two years and never once asked what I could give her in return.
Renley suddenly couldn't breathe properly.
I watched you grow into a man who could buy loyalty but no longer recognized kindness.
Roman stopped reading.
The sentence hit exactly where Walter intended.
Renley reminded me that good people still exist.
If she is standing near you when you read this, protect her. Not because she possesses anything valuable. Protect her because she is valuable. There is a difference, son. Learn it before it's too late.
Roman folded the paper.
The mansion became silent.
Renley felt tears sting her eyes.
Walter had been thinking about her.
Even before he died.
“There's more,” she whispered.
Roman looked down.
One final paragraph remained.
The key opens locker 317 at Union Station. Inside is the first truth.
And Roman—
Your mother did not die in an accident.
Roman's face emptied.
Renley immediately knew something had changed.
Not sadness.
Not grief.
Something worse.
For years, Roman had apparently believed one version of his life.
Now his dead father had reached through a paper bag and shattered it.
Miles quietly said, “Boss.”
Roman held up a hand.
“My mother died when I was seventeen.”
Renley said nothing.
“Car went through a barrier during a storm.”
He looked at Walter's letter.
“My father told me she'd lost control.”
Then his eyes hardened.
“He lied.”
A phone rang.
Miles answered.
His face drained of color.
“What?”
Roman turned.
Miles slowly lowered the phone.
“Someone broke into Walter Pike's apartment.”
“When?”
“Twenty minutes ago.”
Roman looked toward Renley.
“Anything taken?”
“Place was destroyed.”
Renley whispered, “My bag.”
Everyone looked at her.
“What?” Roman asked.
“The big delivery bag I carried today wasn't mine.”
Her voice began shaking.
“The kitchen has six of them. We grab whichever one is clean.”
Roman moved toward her.
“Did Walter ever put anything inside your regular bag?”
“I don't know.”
“Think.”
She remembered Thursdays.
Walter always walked her downstairs.
Sometimes he touched the side pocket before handing the bag back.
Once he had insisted on fixing a torn seam himself.
Renley's eyes widened.
“He repaired it.”
Roman stared.
“My gray bag. About two months ago. He said the strap was loose.”
“Where is it?”
“At the kitchen.”
Roman's phone rang.
This time he answered personally.
A man's voice on the other end said something Renley couldn't hear.
Roman's posture changed.
“When?”
He listened.
“Is anyone hurt?”
Another pause.
Then Roman closed his eyes.
When he hung up, Renley already knew.
“The community kitchen?” she asked.
Roman nodded.
“Someone just broke in.”
Her face went white.
Roman grabbed his jacket.
“Miles, car.”
Renley followed.
“You said I was staying here.”
Roman looked back.
“I changed my mind.”
“Why?”
“Because apparently my father hid something inside your delivery bag.”
They reached the front door.
Roman stopped.
May you like
“And whoever is looking for it got to the kitchen before we did.”
---
