Chapter 4 - The Secret Behind Thomas's Smile
Thomas lived in a penthouse overlooking the East River.
By 3:06 a.m., Larkin and I were standing outside his door.
Thomas opened it wearing tuxedo pants and an unbuttoned dress shirt.
He looked annoyed.
Then he saw the photograph.
His face changed.
"Where did you get that?"
Wrong answer.
Larkin pushed past him.
Thomas stepped aside.
I followed.
"Tell me why your address is written on the back."
Thomas poured himself whiskey.
"Because someone wants you here."
"Who?"
He drank.
"Your father."
Silence.
I forgot how to breathe.
"He's alive?"
Thomas looked at me.
"Yes."
My knees nearly gave out.
Larkin caught my elbow.
I pulled away—not because I didn't want the support, but because I needed to remain standing on my own.
"Where is he?"
Thomas shook his head.
"I don't know."
"You just said—"
"I know he's alive. I don't know where he is."
Larkin's voice became dangerous.
"Start talking."
Thomas stared at his cousin.
Then something unexpected happened.
The arrogant smile disappeared.
Completely.
For the first time since I'd known him, Thomas looked tired.
"Carbone contacted me six months ago."
"Why?" Larkin asked.
"He wanted access to the old archives."
"You gave it to him?"
"No."
Larkin stared.
Thomas laughed bitterly.
"Surprised?"
"Frequently."
Thomas looked at me.
"He told me Penelope's father was alive."
"Why would he tell you?"
"Because he wanted me to help locate the missing records."
"And did you?"
"No."
Again, surprise.
Thomas walked toward a desk.
He removed a folder.
"I started investigating him instead."
Inside were financial statements.
Transfers.
Companies.
Names.
I recognized the pattern instantly.
"These are current."
Thomas nodded.
"Carbone never stopped stealing."
Larkin examined the pages.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I didn't know who around you was compromised."
"You thought I was?"
"I thought anyone could be."
For all his cruelty and recklessness, Thomas had apparently spent six months quietly investigating one of the most dangerous men in New York.
Then he looked at me.
"I invited you to the gala."
"I know."
"I wanted Carbone to see you."
My anger returned instantly.
"So everyone was using me as bait?"
"Basically."
"Wonderful."
"I didn't know he'd mention your mother publicly."
"But you expected a reaction."
"Yes."
I stepped toward him.
"Did you also expect everyone to laugh at me?"
His expression became uncomfortable.
"That part was..."
"What?"
"An unfortunate bonus."
I slapped him.
Hard.
The sound echoed through the penthouse.
Thomas touched his cheek.
Larkin looked away.
Was he hiding a smile?
"Feel better?" Thomas asked.
"Considerably."
"Fair."
Then Thomas's phone rang.
Unknown number.
He looked at us.
Answered.
A man's voice came through.
"Put Penelope on."
My entire body froze.
Thomas slowly handed me the phone.
"Hello?"
Silence.
Then:
"Penny?"
Nobody called me that gently.
The voice was older.
Unfamiliar.
But something about it made my chest ache.
"Who is this?"
A long pause.
"Nathan."
My fingers trembled.
"My father?"
Larkin stepped closer.
The voice broke.
"I'm sorry."
Twenty-eight years of questions crashed into those two words.
"Where are you?"
"I can't tell you."
"Why?"
"Because Carbone is listening to everything."
I looked around.
Thomas began checking windows.
Larkin gestured to his security men.
"I tried to come back," Nathan said. "More than once."
"Then why didn't you?"
"Because every time I moved toward you, someone followed."
Tears blurred my vision.
"You let Mom think you were dead."
"No. Your mother knew."
I froze.
"What?"
"Elizabeth knew I survived."
My heart stopped.
"You're lying."
"I'm not."
I thought about my mother.
Her tears.
Her fear.
Twenty-eight years of carefully controlled stories.
"Why would she lie?"
"Because we agreed it was safer."
I couldn't speak.
Nathan continued.
"The records she kept weren't the originals."
"What?"
"The originals are hidden somewhere else."
"Where?"
"I gave Elizabeth one half of the access code."
"And the other?"
"Alexander Steves had it."
I looked at Larkin.
His father.
Larkin stared back.
Nathan's voice lowered.
"Alexander told me if anything happened to him, his son would inherit the second half without knowing what it was."
Larkin frowned.
"What does that mean?"
Nathan heard him.
"Larkin?"
"Yes."
"Your father left you a watch."
Larkin went still.
I remembered the old silver watch he occasionally wore.
"Inside the back plate," Nathan said, "there's an engraving."
Larkin slowly looked at his wrist.
Tonight, he wore a modern watch.
But apparently he knew exactly which one Nathan meant.
"What does it unlock?" he asked.
"The truth."
Then a sound came through the phone.
Nathan stopped speaking.
"Dad?"
"Penelope, listen carefully."
His voice changed.
Urgent.
"Do not trust Carbone."
"I don't."
"And don't trust anyone simply because they share Larkin's blood."
Thomas stiffened.
"What does that mean?"
Nathan ignored him.
"Your mother knows more than she told you."
"Dad—"
"And Penelope?"
"Yes?"
"I'm proud of you."
My throat closed.
The call ended.
I stood there holding the phone.
Twenty-eight years.
My father was alive.
My mother knew.
And Larkin's dead father had apparently left us part of a key.
Larkin was already moving toward the door.
"Where are you going?"
"My house."
"For the watch?"
"Yes."
Thomas grabbed his jacket.
"I'm coming."
Larkin looked at him.
"No."
"Why?"
"Because Nathan specifically warned us about family."
Thomas's expression hardened.
"You think he meant me?"
"I don't know."
For once, Thomas didn't joke.
He nodded.
"Then go."
We left.
Forty minutes later, Larkin and I entered his townhouse.
He opened a safe behind a painting.
Inside was an old silver watch.
He placed it on the desk.
Using a tiny screwdriver, he removed the back.
There it was.
An engraved sequence.
Seven numbers.
I photographed it.
Then I noticed something else.
Words etched beneath the numbers.
Larkin read them aloud.
"Mercer Station. Locker 314."
I searched the name.
Mercer Station had closed nineteen years earlier.
But its underground storage facilities still existed beneath a private office building.
Larkin looked at me.
"We go at daylight."
I nodded.
Then my phone rang.
Mom.
I answered immediately.
"Mom?"
She was crying.
"Penelope, don't go to Mercer Station."
My blood chilled.
"How do you know?"
Silence.
"Mom?"
When she finally spoke, her voice was barely audible.
May you like
"Because that's where your father disappeared."
And then she told me the one detail she'd hidden longer than everything else: she had been there the night Nathan vanished.
