Chapter 4 - Locker 314

Thomas drove like every red light was a suggestion.

Madeleine gripped the door handle.

“You have a child?”

Thomas didn't answer.

He couldn't.

Twelve years of anger had just collapsed into something much worse.

A child.

His child.

Somewhere.

Growing up without him.

Knowing him?

Not knowing him?

Did the kid believe he was dead?

Did Émilie hate him?

Had Pierre held his grandchild and never said a word?

Thomas hit the steering wheel.

“Damn him.”

“Thomas.”

“He knew.”

“We don't know how much.”

“He had a photograph.”

Madeleine fell silent.

Behind them, the black SUV appeared again.

Thomas turned into an underground parking structure, dropped two levels, cut through the exit lane, and shot onto another street.

By the time he reached Union Station, the SUV was gone.

For now.

He parked illegally.

“Stay in the car.”

Madeleine opened her door.

“No.”

“Mom.”

“I gave twelve years to silence. I'm not giving one more minute.”

Thomas didn't argue.

They moved through the station.

Commuters passed them carrying coffee, luggage, phones.

Normal lives.

Thomas envied every one of them.

Locker 314 sat along an older corridor near the baggage area.

Thomas inserted the small key from Pierre's recorder.

The locker opened.

Inside sat a gray backpack.

Thomas pulled it out.

“That's it?”

He unzipped it.

A child's blue sweater.

A stack of bank statements.

Two passports.

A small laptop.

And a sealed envelope.

The passports belonged to Émilie Serrat and a girl named Sophie Serrat.

Thomas looked at the date of birth.

His knees nearly gave out.

Sophie was eleven.

Madeleine touched his shoulder.

“Thomas.”

He opened the passport.

The photograph showed a girl with brown hair, serious eyes, and a tiny scar near her eyebrow.

Thomas stared.

He had the same scar.

Same side.

Same shape.

He'd gotten his after falling off a bicycle at seven.

Genetics couldn't copy scars.

But faces could.

The eyes.

The chin.

The expression.

Thomas whispered, “She's mine.”

Madeleine began crying.

Thomas barely noticed.

He opened Pierre's envelope.

The first line read:

If Sophie is reading this with you, tell her I am sorry.

Thomas stopped.

His father knew her name.

Knew her.

Maybe met her.

He kept reading.

Gabriel Renaud has spent years searching for information Émilie copied from Delacourt Holdings. He believes she still has the only complete version.

He is wrong.

I divided it into three parts.

One remained with Émilie.

One remained with me.

One was placed where Gabriel would never think to search.

With you.

Thomas frowned.

“With me?”

A shadow moved at the end of the corridor.

Madeleine saw it too.

“Thomas.”

Gabriel stepped around the corner.

Alone.

He wore an expensive navy coat.

Silver hair.

Calm face.

The same face Thomas had trusted since childhood.

“Don't run,” Gabriel said.

Thomas stood between him and Madeleine.

“How did you find us?”

Gabriel sighed.

“You're carrying a device built to transmit its location.”

Thomas looked at the red unit.

Gabriel smiled sadly.

“Pierre always did love dramatic safeguards.”

“You knew about Sophie?”

Gabriel's expression changed.

Only slightly.

But Thomas saw it.

That was enough.

“You knew.”

Gabriel slipped one hand into his coat.

Thomas tensed.

Gabriel slowly removed his phone.

“I'm going to show you something before you decide I'm your enemy.”

He tapped the screen.

Then held it out.

A live video appeared.

A woman sat tied to a chair in a dark room.

Émilie.

Beside her was a terrified girl.

Sophie.

Thomas couldn't breathe.

Gabriel's voice became cold.

“You have something that belongs to me.”

Thomas stared at the screen.

Gabriel continued.

“And if I don't have it in six hours…”

May you like

MY HUSBAND SAID NO ONE WOULD BELIEVE ME—THEN A DETECTIVE'S VOICE CAME FR...

My husband punched the wall beside my head and grabbed my bruised chin. “No one will believe you over me,” he whispered. For five...

“A Corrupt Sheriff Ruined My 17-Year-Old Son’s Future—He Never Knew His...

A corrupt Sheriff shot my 17-year-old son, permanently destroying both his kneecaps. "Shouldn't have looked at me wrong, boy," the...

“BEG LOUDER, SWEETHEART. YOUR DADDY WON'T BELIEVE YOU UNLESS YOU CRY.”

“BEG LOUDER, SWEETHEART. YOUR DADDY WON'T BELIEVE YOU UNLESS YOU CRY.”My six-year-old daughter was chained to a metal pool railing...

On the screen, a man pressed a gun against Émilie's head.

“…your daughter loses her mother.”