Chapter 2 - THE THING INSIDE THE JUKEBOXDaniel Cross had always been the person I called when life went bad.
When my father died, Daniel drove six hours through a snowstorm just to sit beside me.
When Avery broke her wrist at eleven, he arrived at the emergency room before the doctor did.
When I retired from CID, he threw a barbecue in my backyard and gave a speech about brotherhood that made half the room cry.
Rachel had trusted him too.
At least I thought she had.
Now I sat at my kitchen table with Daniel's name glowing on my phone while the memory card rested beneath my thumb.
"About what?" he repeated.
I forced my voice flat.
"Barrett."
Another pause.
"What about him?"
"He put his hands on my daughter."
"I heard there was some misunderstanding."
"Interesting word."
"Marcus—"
"The diner owner told him no money was missing."
"I'm sure the department will review it."
"The department?"
Daniel sighed.
For the last nine years, he had been chief investigator for the county prosecutor's office. He wasn't technically Barrett's boss, but around Bellweather County, Daniel Cross could make deputies nervous with a phone call.
"I can make inquiries," he said.
"You do that."
"You sound angry."
"My daughter was shoved into a counter."
"I'd be angry too."
I looked at Avery.
She was watching me, terrified that I might reveal what we had.
I didn't.
"Call me when you know something."
I disconnected.
Avery exhaled.
"You didn't tell him."
"No."
"Do you believe me now?"
"I believed you the moment you showed me the card."
"No. I mean about Uncle Daniel."
I hated hearing her call him that.
Not because she was wrong.
Because he'd earned the name over nineteen years.
"What exactly happened when he saw you with it?"
Avery folded her arms around herself.
"It was Saturday afternoon. I was cleaning by the jukebox because Mrs. Alvarez wants to sell it. One of the little chrome pieces around the coin return was loose. When I pulled it, this envelope slipped out."
"Envelope?"
She nodded.
"The card was inside it."
"What happened to the envelope?"
"I have it."
She pulled a folded piece of yellow paper from her backpack.
I put on reading glasses.
The envelope looked old.
Not fourteen years old necessarily, but old enough.
There was no address.
Only handwriting.
M.H. — If anything happens to me.
My pulse slowed.
Not from calm.
From shock.
I recognized the handwriting instantly.
Rachel.
I had seen those letters on birthday cards, grocery lists, school forms, notes taped to the refrigerator.
M.H.
Marcus Hale.
My wife had hidden something for me.
Something she believed I might need if something happened to her.
And nobody had found it for fourteen years.
I sat down.
Avery whispered, "That's Mom's handwriting, isn't it?"
"Yes."
She covered her mouth.
I unfolded the envelope carefully.
Nothing else was inside.
"Why the diner?" Avery asked.
I knew immediately.
Rachel had worked at Riverside in high school and college.
Her mother, Avery's grandmother, had worked there before her.
Rachel knew every inch of the building.
She and Daniel knew each other there too.
That thought made my stomach tighten.
"We need to see what's on the card," I said.
"I tried."
"You tried your laptop."
"So?"
"So we're not using anything connected to our home network."
Avery stared at me.
"You think somebody could know?"
"Barrett knew enough to search you."
I stood.
"We leave our phones here."
"Dad, where are we going?"
"To see someone I trust."
She gave me a look.
"You trusted Daniel."
That landed harder than she intended.
"I know."
Forty minutes later we arrived at a small electronics repair shop in the next county.
The sign above the door said MILLER RADIO & COMPUTER.
The woman behind the counter looked up and smiled.
"No way."
Tessa Miller had worked digital forensics with me at Fort Bragg for eight years. She had retired after a back injury and turned her father's repair shop into a legitimate business.
She hugged me, then looked at Avery.
"You were this tall last time I saw you."
Avery managed a nervous smile.
"Apparently I grew."
"Kids have an annoying habit of doing that."
Tessa noticed my expression.
"What happened?"
I placed the card on the counter.
"I need you to open this."
She reached for it.
"Password protected?"
"More than that, probably."
"Where did it come from?"
I hesitated.
"Rachel."
Tessa's hand stopped.
She had known my wife.
Everyone on my old team had.
Tessa looked from me to Avery.
"Back room."
Twenty minutes later, the card was connected to an isolated machine.
Tessa leaned toward the monitor.
"Encrypted container. Old software, though."
"Can you break it?"
"Depends how clever Rachel was."
I almost smiled.
"Very."
Tessa worked while Avery paced.
After forty minutes, she said, "Give me something personal."
"What?"
"Password possibilities."
Rachel's birthday hadn't worked.
Our anniversary hadn't worked.
Avery's birthday hadn't worked.
I stared at the four numbers on the sleeve.
"Try Magnolia0712."
Avery frowned.
"What's Magnolia?"
"The street where your mother and I had our first apartment."
Tessa typed.
Nothing.
"Try Bluebird0712."
Nothing.
"Bluebird?" Avery asked.
"Nickname."
"For Mom?"
I shook my head.
"For you."
Avery looked surprised.
Rachel used to call our daughter her little bluebird because Avery sang before she could properly talk.
Tessa tried one more variation.
The screen changed.
Three folders appeared.
INSURANCE
DANIEL
FOR MARCUS
Nobody moved.
Tessa whispered, "Oh, hell."
I opened FOR MARCUS.
There was one video.
The thumbnail showed Rachel sitting in our kitchen.
Alive.
My hand began shaking.
I clicked.
Rachel appeared on screen wearing the green sweater she used to love.
Her hair was pulled into a loose ponytail.
She looked exhausted.
Then she spoke.
"Marcus, if you're watching this, something happened to me."
Avery made a small choking sound.
I couldn't look away.
Rachel continued.
"I need you to understand that I didn't leave this because I was afraid of you. I left it because I was afraid you'd do exactly what you're going to want to do after you hear the rest."
She took a breath.
"Daniel has been using county seizure operations to move cash and evidence off-book."
My heart slammed against my ribs.
Rachel looked toward something outside the camera.
"I found the accounts by accident while helping him prepare tax records. At first I thought it was a mistake."
Tessa leaned closer.
Rachel continued.
"It isn't just Daniel."
The video suddenly froze.
Then resumed.
"There are deputies involved. Prosecutors. Maybe more."
Avery whispered, "Barrett."
Rachel looked directly into the camera.
"If I die before I can give this to federal investigators, do not trust the accident report."
I felt the room tilt.
Then she said the sentence that destroyed fourteen years of certainty.
"Because Daniel already threatened to make my death look like an accident."
Avery grabbed my hand.
The video continued.
"I copied everything I could. Names. transfers. recordings."
Rachel's eyes filled with tears.
"And Marcus... there's something else you need to know."
She took a shaky breath.
"Daniel wasn't always stealing money."
The image pixelated.
The audio cracked.
Then Rachel said:
"He was selling information about military families."
My blood went cold.
Tessa paused the video.
"Marcus."
I barely heard her.
I had spent years investigating threats against service members.
During the period Rachel died, I had been working a case involving weapons theft from a military installation.
Someone had leaked addresses.
Schedules.
Names.
One witness had vanished.
Two soldiers had nearly died.
And Daniel had known everything about my work schedule.
Not classified details.
But enough.
"Oh God," I whispered.
Avery squeezed my fingers.
Tessa restarted the video.
Rachel leaned toward the camera.
"The proof is in the second folder. But Marcus, there's one person you must find first."
The picture glitched.
Then recovered.
A name appeared in Rachel's voice.
"Thomas Reed."
I knew that name.
Or thought I did.
Thomas Reed had been the diner cook who supposedly vanished the week before Rachel died.
Police believed he had stolen three thousand dollars and skipped town.
Rachel had defended him.
She insisted Thomas wasn't a thief.
No one listened.
Then Rachel died.
And Thomas Reed disappeared forever.
Until now.
Tessa opened the DANIEL folder.
It contained spreadsheets, photographs, audio files and scanned documents.
Then she stopped.
"Marcus."
"What?"
"One of these files was accessed recently."
"How recently?"
She checked.
"Three days ago."
The day Avery found the card.
"Impossible," Avery said. "I didn't open anything."
Tessa looked at the computer.
"Then someone else did."
I felt every instinct I'd spent twenty-six years sharpening come alive.
"Can you tell where?"
"Not from this copy."
Avery's voice trembled.
"Does that mean they knew I had it?"
"No," Tessa said. "It means someone knew it had become active."
My phone wasn't with me.
Neither was Avery's.
Nobody knew where we were.
At least nobody should have.
Then the bell above the repair-shop entrance rang.
All three of us froze.
Tessa quietly reached beneath her desk.
I moved toward the doorway.
Footsteps approached.
Slow.
Heavy.
A shadow crossed the frosted glass.
The door opened.
And Deputy Ryan Mercer stepped inside.
The same deputy who had blocked me at the diner.
Avery backed away.
I moved in front of her.
Mercer lifted both hands.
"I'm not here to hurt anybody."
"Give me one reason I shouldn't put you on the floor."
He looked at the memory card.
Then at me.
"Because Deputy Barrett already knows you opened it."
Silence.
May you like
Mercer's face had lost all color.
"And if Cross finds out where you are," he said, "your daughter won't survive until morning."
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