The car door slammed again.
I motioned for everyone to stay quiet.
Colette immediately moved away from the entrance.
Brielle switched off the recorder.
Taryn pulled the storage door down until only a narrow gap remained.
Footsteps approached.
Slow.
Unhurried.
Whoever was outside didn't seem concerned about being seen.
I crouched beside the opening and looked through the gap.
A dark sedan was parked three spaces away.
No one stood beside it.
“Could be nothing,” Brielle whispered.
Colette shook her head.
“No.”
I looked at her.
“You're sure?”
“I know how they work.”
The words made my skin prickle.
“Who?”
“People who watch first.”
A shadow crossed the pavement.
Then disappeared.
I motioned toward the back of the locker.
There was another exit.
We moved quickly.
I carried the suitcase while Brielle took the medical files and Taryn held the recorder.
Colette followed last.
When we reached the rear door, I stopped.
A second vehicle was parked behind the building.
My heart sank.
“They're waiting.”
Colette looked at the memory cards in my hand.
“Then we don't take the obvious route.”
She pointed toward the narrow passage between two rows of storage units.
We squeezed through.
I heard an engine start behind us.
Nobody spoke until we reached my car.
I unlocked it.
Everyone climbed in.
I started the engine and pulled away without looking back.
For several minutes, we drove in silence.
Then Taryn asked, “Are we being followed?”
I checked the mirror.
A dark sedan appeared two intersections behind us.
Maybe coincidence.
Maybe not.
I turned onto a side road.
The sedan turned too.
Brielle's hand tightened around the folder.
“Dad.”
“I see it.”
I took another turn.
The sedan followed.
Colette's face went pale.
“Don't go home.”
“I wasn't planning to.”
“Good.”
I drove toward the interstate.
We needed somewhere public.
Somewhere with cameras.
Somewhere the person following us would have to think twice.
We stopped at a crowded roadside restaurant.
I parked near the entrance.
The sedan continued past.
Nobody got out.
We waited.
Ten minutes.
Then twenty.
Finally, Colette said, “We need to copy the files.”
I looked at her.
“Where?”
“A library.”
The answer surprised me.
“Why?”
“Public computers. Cameras. Staff. People everywhere.”
It was the first practical suggestion anyone had made since we opened the locker.
We went inside.
At a table near the window, Brielle opened the suitcase.
We copied the recordings and documents onto several drives.
One stayed with me.
One went to Brielle.
One went to Taryn.
The original cards went back into the suitcase.
Colette watched us.
“You should send one copy somewhere they can't reach.”
“Where?”
She hesitated.
“Someone you trust.”
I thought about that.
Then I remembered Daniel's recording.
If he had trusted someone enough to preserve his evidence, perhaps that person was still alive.
“Do you know anyone Daniel trusted?”
Colette looked down.
“One.”
“Who?”
“His sister.”
We left the library just before sunset.
The dark sedan was gone.
That should have made me feel better.
It didn't.
Because when we reached the car, there was an envelope beneath the windshield wiper.
No stamp.
No address.
Just my name.
I opened it.
Inside was one sentence.
Stop digging.
Underneath it was another.
You were warned once.
Colette saw the paper.
Her expression changed.
“They know about us.”
I folded the note.
“No.”
I looked at the road.
“They know about me.”
She shook her head.
“They know about all of us now.”
That was the moment I realized the search had changed.
We weren't simply uncovering the past anymore.
Someone had noticed.
And they wanted us to stop.
Click here to continue reading: PART 6: One Name From Daniel’s Past Revealed Who Had Been Protecting the Evidence While We Were Still Living With the Lie
Twelve Years After Their Mother Disappeared, My Daughters Asked Me to Sit Down Before They Told Me Why
Part 5 of 20
