He checked the screen.
An unknown number.
One message.
Do not go to the archive. The ledger has already been moved.
Carter stopped.
Another message appeared.
Your father left something for you.
A photograph followed.
It showed a small wooden box sitting on a desk.
Carter recognized the desk immediately.
It had belonged to his father.
The photograph was followed by one final message.
Ask your mother what happened the night he died.
Carter stared at the screen.
Then he called home.
His mother answered after the second ring.
“Daniel?”
“Mom, I need you to tell me something.”
“What's wrong?”
“Did Dad know Thomas Whitaker?”
Silence.
“Mom?”
Her breathing changed.
“Where did you hear that name?”
“Just answer me.”
Another long pause.
Then his mother spoke.
“Daniel, you need to come home.”
“I can't. I need the truth.”
Her voice began to tremble.
“Your father didn't die because of an accident.”
Carter closed his eyes.
“I know.”
“No,” she whispered. “You don't understand.”
“What happened?”
His mother took a shaky breath.
“The night before he died, he came home with a file. He said if anything happened to him, I had to give it to someone he trusted.”
“Who?”
She began crying.
“Your father said the only person who could be trusted was the man who sent him to prison.”
Carter stopped walking.
“What man?”
His mother whispered a name.
“Marcus Reynolds.”
Carter felt the floor shift beneath him.
Tank.
The prisoner who had threatened to put him in the hole.
The man who claimed to own the yard.
The man who had spent years trying to reach Elias Grant.
His phone vibrated again.
A new message.
You have one hour. Come to the old maintenance station alone.
Then another.
And bring the key.
Carter looked at Blake.
“Who sent that?”
Blake shook his head.
“I don't know.”
Carter stared at the screen.
A final message appeared.
Your father didn't trust the system. He trusted the prisoner.
Chapter 21: The Prisoner Who Saved Him
The maintenance tunnel ended beneath an abandoned section of the prison.
Carter pushed open a rusted hatch and climbed into a dark utility room.
Blake followed.
“Where are we?”
“Old maintenance station,” Carter replied.
They found a metal staircase leading to a disused control room.
A single light was on.
Someone was waiting.
Tank stood in the middle of the room.
His wrists were free.
His prison uniform was dirty, and there was a fresh cut near his eyebrow.
Carter immediately stepped back.
“Where's your escort?”
Tank gave a humorless smile.
“Whitaker tried to move me to another facility. I convinced the officers to reconsider.”
“Did you hurt them?”
Tank didn't answer.
Carter looked at Blake.
“Stay behind me.”
Tank laughed.
“Still giving orders?”
“You wanted to see me?”
Tank nodded.
“You found Grant.”
“Where is he?”
“Alive. For now.”
Carter stepped closer.
“You knew my father.”
Tank's smile disappeared.
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I didn't know whether you were anything like him.”
Carter's voice hardened.
“Tell me what happened.”
Tank walked toward a metal cabinet.
He opened it and removed a photograph.
It showed a younger Samuel Carter standing beside a much younger Marcus Reynolds.
They were outside an old correctional facility.
Neither man was smiling.
Carter took the photograph.
“Why were you together?”
Tank looked down.
“Your father was the only honest officer I ever met.”
“You were convicted of organizing illegal prisoner transfers.”
“I was convicted of being the easiest person to blame.”
Carter stared at him.
“Are you saying you're innocent?”
“No.”
Tank's answer was immediate.
“I did plenty of things that deserved prison. But the operation that Whitaker and Hayes built? That wasn't mine.”
He pointed to the photograph.