A small wooden storage box.
The paperwork listed its location as a private storage facility in Portland.
I stared at the document.
Why had nobody mentioned it?
I called Emily.
She answered immediately.
"Arthur, where have you been? We've been trying to reach you."
"I need you to listen."
I explained everything.
The letter.
The meeting with Patterson.
The hospital records.
Eleanor's secret.
When I finished, Emily was silent.
Then she said:
"Arthur, I need you to stop investigating alone."
"I know."
"Do you understand what this means?"
"That Michael may have been involved."
"Or that someone wants you to believe he was."
I looked at the small note.
"The key is with your brother."
Emily sighed.
"We'll investigate Michael's estate. But I want you to promise me something."
"What?"
"Do not go to Portland without telling us."
I considered arguing.
Then I looked at Eleanor's photograph.
"All right."
Emily paused.
"Arthur?"
"Yes?"
"There's something else."
"What?"
"We checked the prison records for the person Patterson mentioned."
"And?"
"The man who was released last week was not connected to the original Blackridge case."
I frowned.
"Then who is he?"
Emily lowered her voice.
"A former intelligence contractor named Victor Shaw."
I stared at the wall.
"Why would his release matter?"
"Because he was the man who drove the second vehicle behind David's car on the night of the accident."
I felt my blood turn cold.
Emily continued.
"And according to our records, Victor Shaw has been missing since yesterday."
The flight to Portland was scheduled for the following morning.
Emily arranged for two federal agents to accompany me.
I protested at first.
But she reminded me that the people involved had already attempted to intimidate me twice.
I eventually agreed.
The storage facility was located on the outskirts of the city.
It was a large industrial building surrounded by security fencing.
The manager examined the estate documents and led us to a unit at the far end of the property.
The lock was old.
I used the key provided in the paperwork.
The door rolled upward with a metallic groan.
Inside were several boxes, a desk, two filing cabinets, and an old leather suitcase.
I recognized the suitcase immediately.
It had belonged to Michael.
I opened it.
Inside were military photographs, notebooks, old identification cards, and a collection of letters.
At the bottom was a small envelope bearing my name.
I opened it.
Arthur,
If you have found this, then something has gone terribly wrong.
I know you probably hate me for staying silent about David.
I deserve that.
But I need you to understand that I was not protecting Blackridge. I was protecting you.
Your son discovered something that could destroy powerful people. He also discovered that the operation had been running inside our family for years.
I tried to stop him from investigating.
He refused.
I then made a terrible decision.
I helped him hide the evidence.
I thought we had succeeded.
I was wrong.
The key is inside the old compass.
And the truth is not what you think.
I read the letter twice.
Then I turned toward the storage unit.
The old compass.
I remembered it.
Michael had given me a military compass when we were teenagers.
I had kept it for decades.
But after his death, I thought it had been lost.
One of the federal agents opened another box.
Inside was a small metal container.
And inside that container was the compass.
I turned it over.
There was a tiny keyhole on the back.
I inserted the small key from Route 17.
It turned.
A hidden compartment opened.
Inside was a memory card.
Emily took it carefully.
"We need to examine this."
I nodded.
But before we could leave, the lights in the storage facility went out.
A security alarm began sounding.
One of the agents drew his weapon.
"Everyone stay where you are!"
A loud crash came from the entrance.
Then a voice shouted:
"Federal agents! Hands where we can see them!"
I turned toward the door.
Three armed men entered.
They were wearing body armor.
But something was wrong.
Their badges were unfamiliar.
One of the agents beside me whispered:
"Those aren't ours."
The men raised their weapons.
"Step away from the evidence!"
Emily's voice came through my phone.
"Arthur? What's happening?"
I looked toward the entrance.
Then I understood.
Someone had known exactly where we were going.
Someone had known what we were looking for.
And someone had been waiting.
The man in front removed his helmet.
I recognized his face.
It was Victor Shaw.
The man who had supposedly disappeared.
He looked at me and smiled.
"Mr. Bennett."
I tightened my grip on the compass.
"You're a difficult man to get rid of."
He laughed.
"Your son said the same thing."
Then he raised his weapon.
"Now give me the key."
The first shot came from the far side of the storage facility.
One of the federal agents returned fire.
Everyone dropped behind the metal cabinets.
I hit the floor and pulled the compass beneath my jacket.
Victor Shaw shouted orders to his men.
The sound of gunfire echoed through the building.
I crawled toward the rear entrance.
One of the agents grabbed my shoulder.
"Mr. Bennett, move!"
We reached the corridor.
The emergency lights had activated, casting the building in a dim red glow.
I could hear footsteps behind us.
Victor's men were coming.