We returned to the house just before midnight.
Dad parked behind the garage so the truck could not be seen easily from the street.
Ella remained in the back seat.
I checked the road before getting out.
The sedan was gone.
That did not make me feel safer.
Dad unlocked the back door.
Inside, the house was dark and cold.
Mom still wasn't home.
“Where is the room?” I asked.
Dad led us toward the basement.
At the bottom of the stairs, he stopped beside the old shelving unit.
“You said this was storage.”
“It was.”
“What's behind it?”
He moved the shelves.
A narrow wooden door appeared.
I had seen the metal compartment earlier.
This was different.
Older.
A brass lock sat in the center.
Dad looked at the key in my hand.
“Try it.”
I inserted the key.
It turned.
The lock clicked.
For several seconds nobody moved.
Then I opened the door.
A narrow stairway descended into darkness.
Cold air rose from below.
Ella whispered, “I've never seen this.”
Dad looked at her.
“I didn't want you to.”
We went down.
The stairs ended at a small concrete room.
There were no windows.
A wooden desk stood against one wall.
On it sat a ledger.
I stopped.
“You knew it was here.”
Dad shook his head.
“I suspected.”
I approached slowly.
The ledger was thick and covered in dark leather.
My grandfather's initials were stamped into the front.
I opened it.
The first pages contained property transactions.
Names.
Dates.
Payments.
Addresses.
Company names.
Then I found the section marked with the three names.
Mara Ellis.
Ella Ellis.
Jonah Ellis.
Beside each name were property numbers.
Not addresses.
Numbers.
I looked at Dad.
“What do these mean?”
He opened another drawer.
Inside were three envelopes.
Each bore one of the names.
I picked up mine.
Mara Ellis.
My hands trembled.
I opened it.
Inside was a copy of my original birth record.
The name at the top was Mara Ellis.
But beneath it was another document.
A handwritten note from Evelyn.
She had written:
If they change her name, the truth will still remain here.
I read it again.
“Evelyn knew about me.”
“Yes,” Dad said.
“She knew I was alive.”
“Yes.”
“She knew my name would be changed.”
“Yes.”
I turned toward him.
“How?”
“I don't know.”
Ella took the note from me.
Her eyes moved across the page.
“This is my mother's handwriting.”
I looked at her.
“You're sure?”
“I grew up with her letters.”
I watched her face.
She looked devastated.
“My mother knew you.”
I nodded.
“But she never found me.”
“No.”
“She thought she had lost both of us.”
I didn't know what to say.
Ella placed the note down.
“Open Jonah's.”
I reached for the third envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
A boy.
Maybe five or six years old.
He stood in front of a house.
On the back was a date.
Thirty years ago.
Underneath was an address.
The third property.
I looked at Dad.
“This is him.”
He nodded.
“Jonah.”
“You've seen this?”
“Once.”
“Where?”
“Evelyn showed it to me.”
“When?”
“Before she disappeared.”
I stared at the photograph.
“If she had this, she knew where he was.”
“She believed she did.”
“Then why didn't she get him?”
Dad looked away.
“Because she was being watched.”
Ella turned sharply.
“By whom?”
Dad didn't answer.
She stepped toward him.
“You always leave that part out.”
“I was afraid.”
“So was she.”
I looked through the ledger.
There were entries beside Jonah's name.
Payments.
Transportation.
Medical expenses.
School fees.
Someone had been paying for his life.
“Someone funded him.”
Dad nodded.
“Who?”
The company name appeared repeatedly.
I wrote it down.
Ella recognized it.
“That company still exists.”
I looked at her.
“You know it?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“On property records.”
My heart began racing.
The company owned the third property.
The property associated with Jonah.
We were silent.
Then I found another entry.
A payment made only two years ago.
I stared at the date.
“That isn't possible.”
Dad leaned over.
“What?”
“This payment was recent.”
Ella looked at the page.
“So someone is still maintaining the account.”
Dad's face tightened.
“That's what I've been afraid of.”
I looked at him.
“Afraid of what?”
“That the people behind the old records are still active.”
A sound came from upstairs.
We froze.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Someone had entered the house.
Dad raised a finger to his lips.
Ella moved toward the stairs.
I grabbed her arm.
“No.”
She looked at me.
“Stay here.”
The footsteps crossed the kitchen.
A drawer opened.
Then another.
Someone was searching.
Dad whispered, “They know the ledger is here.”
“How?”
He looked at the ledger.
“I don't know.”
I thought of the photograph at the post office.
The recent envelope.
The sedan.
Someone had been following us.
The footsteps moved toward the basement.
Dad switched off the small lamp.
Darkness swallowed the room.
The basement door opened.
A beam of light moved across the stairs.
Someone began descending.
Ella held her breath.
I pressed myself against the wall.
The person stopped halfway down.
Then a phone rang upstairs.
The intruder froze.
The ringing continued.
A voice answered.
“Hello?”
I recognized it.
Eric.
My brother.
The intruder said nothing.
Eric spoke again.
“Where are you?”
The person started back up.
We waited.
The basement door closed.
Dad exhaled.
I looked at him.
“Eric?”
He nodded.
“He knew.”
“Knew what?”
“That I found the ledger.”
I felt betrayed all over again.
“Did you tell him?”
“No.”
“Then how?”
Dad looked at the closed door.
“I don't know.”
Ella whispered, “Maybe he wasn't the one who sent them.”
“Who?”
She looked at me.
“The people who were watching us.”
I looked at the ledger.
The three names.
The properties.
The payments.
My forged signature.
Everything suddenly seemed connected.
Then I saw a loose page tucked inside the back cover.
It contained a list of dates.
Beside each date was a location.
The final entry was only two years old.
A name appeared beside it.
Daniel.
I stared.
“Who is Daniel?”
Dad looked at the page.
His expression changed.
“I don't know.”
“You're lying.”
“No.”
“You recognize the name.”
He swallowed.
“Daniel was the lawyer who handled your grandfather's estate.”
I looked at him.
“Where is he now?”
Dad shook his head.
“Dead.”
“When?”
“Five years ago.”
I looked at the date.
The ledger's Daniel entry was only two years old.
Dad stared at it.
“Then it isn't him.”
A sound came from upstairs again.
This time there was no hesitation.
Someone was opening the basement door.
Dad whispered, “Take the ledger.”
I grabbed it.
Ella picked up the envelopes.
We moved toward the hidden stairway at the back of the room.
“Where does this go?” I whispered.
“Outside.”
The door opened above us.
Footsteps entered the basement.
Dad pushed open a second door.
Cold night air hit my face.
We climbed through a narrow passage that ended behind the garage.
When we emerged, I looked back.
A shadow stood in the basement doorway.
It had seen us.
“Run,” Dad said.
We ran.
Click here to continue reading: PART 11: The Man Waiting Beyond the Garage Knew My New Name, My Old Name, and the One Secret My Father Had Buried
One Cruel Joke at Dinner Exposed the Price My Family Had Been Quietly Expecting Me to Pay
Part 10 of 20
