Chapter 3 - THE NOTEBOOK
The Brookline safe house had six bedrooms.
Micah chose the smallest.
Belle found him sitting cross-legged on the floor at midnight with his backpack open.
“What are you doing?”
He pulled out a battered blue notebook.
Belle stopped.
It had belonged to Micah’s father.
Daniel Ashford.
Daniel had died four years earlier in what police called a late-night hit-and-run near the harbor.
Belle had barely survived the grief.
Micah had been three.
“What are you doing with that?”
“It was Dad’s.”
“I know.”
“You said I could keep it.”
“I did.”
Micah opened to the final pages.
Numbers.
Dates.
Ship names.
Belle had never understood them.
Daniel had worked as an accountant for a shipping contractor.
She assumed they were old work notes.
Then Micah pointed at the margin.
There it was.
The same red symbol from the envelope.
A circle crossed by three short lines.
Belle sat down.
“Where did you see that?”
“The scary letter.”
Belle stared at him.
Renick entered ten minutes later.
Sully came with him.
Belle put Daniel’s notebook on the table.
Renick’s face changed the moment he saw it.
“Where did you get this?”
“My husband.”
“What was his name?”
“Daniel Ashford.”
Renick went completely still.
Sully whispered, “Jesus.”
Belle looked between them.
“You knew him.”
Renick did not answer.
“You knew my husband.”
“Yes.”
Her chair scraped backward.
“What?”
Daniel had told Belle almost nothing about his work.
He said boring was good.
He said accounting paid the bills.
He said someday they would leave Boston and buy a little house where Micah could have a yard.
Then one November night, police knocked.
Daniel never came home.
Belle’s voice shook.
“How?”
Renick sat opposite her.
“Your husband worked for a company that laundered money through port contracts.”
Belle stared.
“No.”
“He discovered it.”
“No.”
“He started collecting evidence.”
“Stop.”
“Belle—”
“My husband was not involved with criminals.”
“He wasn’t one of them.”
That stopped her.
Renick pushed the notebook back toward her.
“He was trying to expose them.”
Belle looked down.
All those numbers.
All those nights Daniel stayed awake at the kitchen table.
All those times he closed his laptop when she walked in.
“He told me he was doing overtime.”
“He was building a case.”
“For who?”
“Federal investigators.”
Belle’s stomach turned.
“Who killed him?”
Renick’s eyes darkened.
“We never proved it.”
“We?”
“My organization was losing money through the same network.”
Belle gave a bitter laugh.
“So my husband and the Boston mafia were on the same side?”
“For about three weeks.”
It was so absurd she nearly cried.
Renick opened the notebook.
“This symbol belonged to an old smuggling crew called the Harrow Circle.”
Sully leaned forward.
“We thought they disappeared after Daniel died.”
Renick shook his head.
“They didn’t disappear.”
He tapped the photograph.
“They waited.”
Belle thought about Marissa.
Brinley.
The balcony.
“Why Brinley?”
Renick’s jaw tightened.
“To hurt me.”
“And Micah?”
Renick looked toward the bedroom hallway.
“To find something Daniel left behind.”
Belle stared at the notebook.
“This?”
“Maybe.”
Micah appeared in the doorway.
“No.”
All three adults turned.
He was holding a tiny brass key.
“Dad left something else.”
Belle stood.
“Where did you get that?”
“Inside the notebook.”
He showed them the back cover.
A slit had been cut beneath the lining.
The key had been hidden inside.
Attached to it was a small metal tag.
BOSTON SOUTH STATION.
LOCKER 317.
Renick stood immediately.
Sully reached for his weapon.
Belle stared at the key.
Daniel had been dead four years.
Whatever he had hidden had been waiting all that time.
Renick looked at Sully.
“Get the cars.”
Belle grabbed the key first.
“I’m going.”
“No.”
“He was my husband.”
“Which is exactly why—”
“I’m going.”
Renick stared at her.
Belle did not blink.
Finally he nodded.
“One condition.”
“What?”
“Micah stays here.”
Belle agreed.
Micah did not.
But twenty minutes later, Belle and Renick were speeding toward downtown Boston while Micah remained behind with four guards.
At 1:17 a.m., they reached South Station.
Locker 317 was still there.
Belle inserted the key.
Her hand shook.
The lock clicked.
Inside sat a black flash drive.
A photograph.
And a sealed letter addressed to Belle.
She opened the letter.
Daniel’s handwriting covered one page.
Belle read the first line.
If you are reading this, then they found me.
Her vision blurred.
Then she reached the second paragraph.
And everything she thought she knew about Renick Kavanaugh changed.
Daniel had written:
If anything happens to me, find Renick.
He is dangerous.
But he is the only man in Boston I trust to keep you and Micah alive.
Behind them, footsteps echoed through the empty station.
Renick turned.
May you like
Three men were walking toward them.
And one was carrying a gun.
