*OWNER: IF HE OPENS THE SECOND PHOTO, TELL HIM THE TRUTH.*
Jordan stared.
Marcus looked at Vanessa.
“What truth?””
She slowly picked up the phone.
Marcus laughed once.
Not because anything was funny.
Because the answer was becoming absurd.
“You don't know.””
Vanessa's eyes filled with frustration.
“I was never supposed to know.””
“Then why are you still here?””
“Because I was paid to stay.””
Marcus's expression hardened.
“By whom?””
“How much?””
“Enough.””
“To follow instructions.””
“That's it?””
Vanessa turned toward him.
“You think everybody gets to choose what they do?””
Jordan didn't answer.
Marcus looked at the damaged phone.
“What was in the second photograph?””
Marcus's patience disappeared.
“Then find out.””
He stepped toward the car.
Marcus looked down at her hand.
She immediately released him.
“Please.””
That word changed the room.
Jordan stared at Vanessa.
Marcus looked at her face.
She wasn't arrogant anymore.
She wasn't managing the showroom.
She was afraid.
Marcus said, “Why are you protecting me?””
“I'm not.””
“Yes, you are.””
“I don't want you to get hurt.””
“I can't tell you.””
Then he walked back to the vehicle.
He opened the rear passenger door.
“Marcus!””
He looked inside.
Only cream leather.
He checked the floor.
Then he noticed a tiny seam beneath the rear seat.
He ran his fingers along it.
A latch clicked.
“What did you find?””
Marcus pulled the seat forward.
A narrow compartment appeared.
Inside was another envelope.
This one was white.
Marcus didn't touch it.
There was writing across the front.
Not his name.
A single sentence:
*HE DOESN'T KNOW WHAT HE REMEMBERED.*
Jordan read it.
Marcus stared at the words.
Something flickered behind his eyes.
A memory trying to surface.
A sound.
A room.
A voice.
Then it vanished.
He stepped back.
“You okay?””
She pointed at the envelope.
“You shouldn't have found that.””
“Because nobody was supposed to find it.””
Marcus crouched.
He picked up the white envelope.
Vanessa whispered, “Stop.””
He opened it.
Inside was the second photograph.
Marcus pulled it out.
He looked at it.
His breathing stopped.
Jordan leaned over his shoulder.
Then froze.
The photograph showed Marcus standing inside this same showroom.
But this time, the date printed in the corner was only three months earlier.
Marcus was wearing the same faded jeans.
The same dark work shirt.
The same worn boots.
He was standing beside the black luxury car.
And beside him stood Vanessa.
“You were with him.””
Vanessa's face crumpled.
“I…”
Marcus turned the photograph around.
On the back, written in black ink, were six words:
*You already came here once, Marcus.*
Marcus stared at the sentence.
Then he looked at Vanessa.
“You remember this?””
She nodded slowly.
“Why didn't you tell me?””
“Because you told me not to.””
Marcus went completely still.
Jordan whispered, “What?””
“You were here three months ago.””
“What did I say?””
Vanessa's eyes filled with tears.
“You asked me one question.””
She looked toward the black car.
“You asked me…”
“…who was sitting in the driver's seat when the owner died.””
Then the driver's seatbelt suddenly clicked into place by itself.
Chapter 9: The Driver
The click echoed across the showroom.
Jordan stared at the driver's seat.
The seatbelt had pulled itself across the cream leather and locked.
He looked at the photograph in his hand.
“The owner died?””
Vanessa's eyes dropped.
“I shouldn't have said that.””
“You said the owner was alive.””
“I said he was the owner.””
“You told me he was out of town.””
“I was told to say that.””
“When did he die?””
“Three months ago.””
Marcus's expression remained unreadable.
“Then who's been sending the messages?””
Vanessa's lips trembled.
Marcus looked at the phone.
“You've been receiving messages from a dead man.””
“I know how it sounds.””
“It sounds impossible.””
Vanessa gave a bitter laugh.
“Exactly.””
Jordan looked toward the cameras.
“Then who's watching us?””
Marcus followed his eyes.
The red indicator above one camera suddenly turned green.
Jordan stepped backward.
“That wasn't green before.””
Marcus stared at it.
Vanessa whispered, “He told me never to unplug them.””
“After he died?””
Vanessa nodded.
“He said the cameras had to stay on.””
Marcus looked at the black luxury car.
“Who was sitting in the driver's seat?””
Marcus's voice sharpened.
“You told me I asked you that before.””
“So answer me now.””
“Because I never saw the driver's face.””
In the picture, the driver's seat was visible.
Empty.
But the rearview mirror had been adjusted toward someone sitting behind the camera.