Chapter 2 - The Locker Key
Liam stood frozen amidst the clinking glasses and soaring violin notes. The breath hitched in his throat. His wife had been a photojournalist whose death had been ruled a tragic late-night highway collision. For over a year, Liam had buried his doubts in long workdays and solo parenting.
He glanced at Clara, who was currently occupied with a miniature vanilla cupcake. Kneeling beside his sister, Elena, who sat nearby sipping wine, Liam tried to steady his voice.
""Elena, take Clara back to the cottage tonight. Something urgent just came up at the agency.""
Elena frowned, looking up at him with concern. ""Liam, it’s past nine. You’ve barely smiled all night until two minutes ago. What’s going on?""
""Just trust me,"" Liam said, kissing Clara’s sticky cheek. ""Be good for Auntie, bug. Daddy will be back before breakfast.""
Thirty minutes later, Liam drove his dark sedan through the fog-shrouded streets of his hometown. His destination was the decaying arts district where Sarah used to rent an attic workspace. The city had slated the brick warehouse for demolition next week, meaning whatever secrets remained inside were living on borrowed time.
He parked in an adjacent alley, slipping inside through a side door he knew had a faulty latch. The smell of linseed oil, dust, and damp concrete hit him like a physical blow. Flashlight beam cutting through the gloom, he climbed the narrow iron stairs to Locker 42.
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The padlock had fresh scratches on the brass cylinder. Someone had already tried picking it. Liam inserted the small brass key Sarah had kept on her favorite keychain. It clicked open.
Inside lay a heavy black binder and an unlabeled thumb drive. But before he could touch them, the beam of a high-powered flashlight pierced the darkness from the staircase behind him, accompanied by the distinct metallic click of a chambering round.
