Chapter 2 - THE PARKING LOT
The flower shop looked exactly the same.
That was the first thing that hurt.
The striped awning still leaned slightly to the left. The brass bell above the door still made a tired little sound whenever someone entered. Buckets of roses, lilies, tulips, and eucalyptus filled the front windows.
For four years, that shop had been the one place where Rick's voice couldn't reach me.
I had loved it.
I still did.
I stepped out of Julian's car and stood on the sidewalk.
Moren was driving. A man named Caleb sat behind the wheel, but he stayed inside the car.
"You want me to come in?" Moren asked.
"No."
"Are you sure?"
I nodded.
"I need to do this myself."
She studied me for a moment.
Then she handed me a phone.
"It's temporary."
I frowned.
"I have a phone."
"You had a phone."
She was right.
Rick had taken mine the night before.
I stared at the black screen.
"Julian gave me this?"
"No."
"Then who?"
"Me."
That made me smile.
"Thank you."
Moren nodded.
"I'll be nearby."
I pushed open the shop door.
The bell rang.
My coworker Nina looked up from the counter.
Her eyes widened.
"Megan?"
I barely had time to answer before she rushed around the counter and hugged me.
"Oh my God. I've been calling you."
"I know."
"Rick came here yesterday."
My body went rigid.
"What did he say?"
"He said you were sick."
Of course.
Rick always had an explanation ready.
Nina pulled back.
"You look terrible."
"Thank you."
"I mean emotionally terrible."
"I know what you meant."
She looked toward the windows.
"Are you safe?"
I thought about Julian.
About the locked bedroom.
About the folder.
"I think so."
Nina lowered her voice.
"Then don't go outside alone."
I wanted to ask why.
I didn't need to.
A black sedan stopped across the street.
Rick stepped out.
My stomach turned.
Nina whispered, "Megan..."
"I see him."
Rick crossed the street.
He wasn't angry.
That was worse.
He wore the navy suit he saved for meetings and carried a paper coffee cup.
He looked like the same man who had once brought me soup when I had the flu.
The same man who had told me I was beautiful.
The same man who later told me nobody else would tolerate me.
He opened the shop door.
"Megan."
I stepped backward.
Nina moved beside me.
Rick smiled.
"Can we talk?"
"No."
His smile disappeared.
"You're making a mistake."
"I'm making several."
"Megan."
"You lied to me."
His eyes flicked toward Nina.
"This is private."
"Not anymore."
He lowered his voice.
"I can fix this."
I laughed.
"You've been fixing things for four years."
His jaw tightened.
"Where did you go last night?"
"Somewhere safe."
"Who took you?"
I said nothing.
That was enough.
Rick's face changed.
"Vale."
The name sounded like a curse.
Nina looked confused.
I wasn't.
Rick stepped closer.
"Listen to me. You don't understand what you've walked into."
"Neither do you."
"I know exactly who Julian Vale is."
"Then you should be more afraid than I am."
His eyes hardened.
For one second, the mask slipped.
Then his phone rang.
He looked at the screen and walked outside.
I watched him answer.
"Yes."
A pause.
"No. She isn't with me."
Another pause.
His expression changed.
He looked through the glass directly at me.
"That's impossible."
He hung up.
I felt cold.
"Who was that?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he came back inside.
"Your sister has been contacted."
My heart stopped.
"What?"
"Someone called her this morning."
"You did?"
"No."
"Then who?"
He smiled.
"I don't know."
That was the moment I realized something.
Rick wasn't pretending to be calm.
He was scared.
"Get out," I said.
He stared at me.
"Megan."
"Get out."
He leaned close enough that only I could hear.
"You think Vale saved you because he cares about you?"
I stepped away.
"He saved me because you tried to sell me."
"That's not what happened."
"The document says otherwise."
His eyes narrowed.
"What document?"
I didn't answer.
He knew.
That was all I needed.
Rick turned and walked out.
I watched him cross the street.
Then I noticed something taped beneath the flower shop's front window.
A white envelope.
My name was written across it.
I opened the door.
Nina grabbed my arm.
"Don't."
"I need to know."
I pulled the envelope free.
Inside was one photograph.
It showed me standing outside the flower shop eight months earlier.
I was carrying a bucket of white roses.
On the back, someone had written:
YOU PAID FOR YOUR FREEDOM.
NOW THEY WANT YOU TO PAY AGAIN.
My hands started shaking.
Nina read it over my shoulder.
"What does that mean?"
"I don't know."
A car horn sounded outside.
The black sedan was gone.
Julian's driver stepped onto the sidewalk.
Caleb looked at the photograph.
His expression changed.
"Call Mr. Vale."
I handed him the phone.
"I don't have his number."
He looked at me.
"Of course you do."
I checked the temporary phone.
There was only one contact.
JULIAN.
I pressed it.
He answered on the first ring.
"Where are you?"
"The flower shop."
"Are you alone?"
"No."
"Is Rick there?"
"Not anymore."
Silence.
Then:
"What did he leave?"
I told him about the photograph.
Julian didn't speak for several seconds.
Finally he said, "Do not leave the building."
"I wasn't planning to."
"I'm coming."
The line ended.
Nina stared at me.
"Who is he?"
"I don't know."
"You've spent the night at his house and you don't know?"
"Apparently I'm having a strange week."
She looked at the photograph again.
"You paid forty thousand dollars?"
"Apparently."
"For Rick?"
"I thought I did."
Nina's face tightened.
"Megan, there is something you need to know."
I looked at her.
She hesitated.
"Eight months ago, Rick came into the shop."
My heart beat faster.
"What did he want?"
"He asked whether you had ever mentioned your father."
I froze.
"My father?"
Nina nodded.
"He wanted to know if you still had anything that belonged to him."
My mouth went dry.
"My father died when I was seventeen."
"I know."
"What could Rick possibly want from him?"
Nina shook her head.
"I don't know."
The front door opened.
Julian entered.
He didn't look at me first.
He looked at the photograph.
Then the envelope.
Then Caleb.
"Lock the door."
Caleb did.
Julian walked toward me.
"Your father wasn't involved in Rick's debt."
"Then why did Rick ask about him?"
Julian held my gaze.
"Because your father was involved in something much older."
My hands went cold.
"What?"
"Before he died, your father helped expose a network that moved money through Rhode Island, Connecticut, and New York."
I stared at him.
"That's impossible."
"He disappeared for six months before his death."
"I was told he was sick."
"That was the story your family received."
I shook my head.
"You knew my father?"
"No."
"Then how do you know this?"
Julian looked toward the locked door.
"Because the people he exposed have been looking for one missing ledger for seventeen years."
My heart began pounding.
"The ledger?"
Julian nodded.
"The one piece of evidence they never recovered."
He looked down at the photograph.
"And I think Rick found it."
The room seemed to tilt.
"Where?"
Julian's eyes lifted to mine.
"That's what we need to find out before Rick does."
I whispered, "You said he found it."
"I said I think he did."
"And if he has it?"
Julian's voice became very quiet.
"Then the reason he brought you to my house was never the debt."
I stared at him.
"Then why?"
Julian didn't answer immediately.
When he finally did, his expression was colder than I had ever seen it.
"Because you may be the only person alive who knows where your father hid the key.
Julian arrived before noon.
He didn't enter the shop immediately.
He stood outside speaking with Caleb while I watched from behind the counter.
When he finally came inside, his gaze moved over the flowers before settling on me.
"You all right?"
"No."
"Good."
I laughed.
"You really like saying that."
"It reminds people they don't have to pretend."
He picked up one of the white roses.
"These are beautiful."
"My favorite."
"Why?"
"They survive bad weather."
He looked at the rose.
"Then it's an appropriate choice."
I didn't know whether he meant the flower or me.
Before I could ask, Caleb's phone rang.
His face changed.
He whispered something to Julian.
Julian looked at me.
"Rick isn't the only person looking for you."
"Who else?"
He glanced toward the window.
"Someone who has been watching your shop for eight months."
I felt cold.
"Why?"
"Because they were waiting for you to remember something."
I looked around the shop.
The roses.
The shelves.
The back room.
My father's old notebook.
Maybe the answer had been sitting in front of me all along.
May you like
I tucked the photograph into my coat, unaware that the next person who saw it would recognize the symbol immediately.
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