Chapter 7 - THE KEY AROUND SALLY’S NECKThomas Vale did not look like a murderer.
That was Garrett’s first irrational thought.
Vale had attended family Christmas dinners.
He had toasted Garrett’s promotion.
He had stood beside Margaret at Robert Milford’s funeral and cried while delivering a eulogy.
Now he held a pistol with calm familiarity.
“Where’s the key?” Vale asked.
Garrett kept his hands visible.
“What key?”
“Your father’s.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Vale looked at Margaret.
“You always were a terrible liar.”
Margaret’s face had become colorless.
“I told you I don’t have it.”
“No. Sally does.”
Garrett’s stomach tightened.
He made sure his expression didn’t change.
Vale noticed anyway.
“There,” he said softly. “Now you understand.”
“Understand what?”
“Why your wife has spent four years running.”
Garrett shifted subtly.
Vale raised the gun.
“Don’t.”
Garrett stopped.
“You followed her.”
“I had people follow her.”
“You tried to hurt her.”
“I tried to recover property.”
“You forced her car off the road.”
Vale shrugged.
“An employee became enthusiastic.”
Rage surged through Garrett.
He forced it down.
“Did you burn the shelter?”
Vale’s silence answered.
Garrett stepped forward before he could stop himself.
The gun lifted.
“Careful, Commander.”
“What was inside that shelter that mattered enough to risk killing dozens of people?”
“Copies.”
“Of what?”
“Records your father should have destroyed.”
Margaret whispered, “Thomas, this has gone too far.”
Vale laughed.
“You said that four years ago.”
“I should have gone to police.”
“Yes.”
“But you didn’t.”
Vale turned toward her.
“Because you’re as guilty as I am.”
Garrett listened to distant sirens.
Vale heard them too.
His expression changed.
“You called someone.”
Garrett didn’t answer.
Vale fired.
The bullet shattered a lamp inches from Garrett.
Margaret screamed.
Garrett lunged.
Military training took over.
He caught Vale’s wrist and slammed it against the edge of the desk.
The pistol fired again into the ceiling.
Vale was older but stronger than Garrett expected.
They crashed into a bookshelf.
Margaret ran.
A second man appeared in the doorway.
Then Daniel charged from the hall and tackled him.
Garrett drove his shoulder into Vale’s chest.
The pistol dropped.
Garrett kicked it beneath the desk.
Within seconds, police flooded the house.
Vale was pinned to the floor.
Handcuffs closed around his wrists.
For the first time in four years, Garrett felt a piece of the nightmare become real enough to fight.
But it wasn’t over.
Vale smiled while officers pulled him upright.
“You still don’t have the evidence.”
Garrett stared.
Vale leaned close.
“And neither does Sally.”
Then he was taken away.
Police detained the second man.
A third fled through the woods.
Margaret gave a statement.
Garrett called Sally.
She answered instantly.
“Emma?”
“Fine.”
“You?”
“Fine.”
“What happened?”
“I’ll explain when I get back.”
“Garrett.”
He heard fear.
“I’m okay.”
Sally exhaled.
Then Garrett asked, “Do you still have the compass necklace my father gave you?”
Silence.
“How do you know about that?”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Why?”
“Vale thinks it’s a key.”
Sally’s breathing changed.
Garrett looked at Margaret.
“Don’t tell anyone where it is.”
Too late.
Sally whispered, “Emma has it.”
Garrett’s pulse stopped.
“What?”
“She likes the compass. I let her wear it sometimes.”
“Is she wearing it now?”
“No. It’s in her backpack.”
“Get it.”
“Garrett—”
“Now.”
He heard Sally moving.
A zipper.
Another.
Then silence.
“It’s gone.”
Garrett closed his eyes.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“When did you last see it?”
“At the hospital.”
“Who had access?”
“Me. Emma. Nora. Nurses.”
“Anyone else?”
Sally suddenly gasped.
“The charity.”
“What?”
“When you followed us, Emma wasn’t wearing it. I had put it in the side pocket of her backpack because the clasp broke.”
“So?”
“When we went to the hospital, your volunteer friend carried Emma’s backpack.”
Garrett frowned.
“Which friend?”
Sally hesitated.
“The older man in the veterans’ jacket.”
Garrett searched his memory.
Several volunteers.
Then he saw him.
Frank Barlow.
Former Milford Maritime security supervisor.
Garrett had known him since childhood.
Barlow now worked with the charity.
Garrett’s stomach sank.
He called Daniel.
“Where’s Frank Barlow?”
Daniel frowned.
“Wasn’t he at the event?”
“Find him.”
Police ran the name.
Barlow’s phone was off.
His address was empty.
Then the detective returned with another piece of information.
Barlow’s employment history showed something Garrett had never known.
After leaving Milford Maritime, he had worked privately for Thomas Vale.
Garrett stared at the screen.
“He took the necklace.”
Daniel nodded.
“Probably.”
“But why?”
Margaret spoke from across the room.
“Because Robert’s study has a hidden floor safe.”
Garrett turned.
“You knew?”
“I knew it existed. Not how to open it.”
They went upstairs.
Robert’s study still smelled faintly of old leather.
Margaret pointed toward the bookcase.
Garrett moved it.
Nothing.
Daniel examined the molding.
“Here.”
A narrow panel opened.
Behind it sat a steel safe with no obvious keypad.
Only a circular indentation.
Compass-sized.
Garrett understood.
The pendant was not symbolic.
It was mechanical.
A custom key.
Vale had spent years searching for something hidden inside Garrett’s childhood home.
Garrett looked around the study.
“Why give the key to Sally?”
Margaret answered.
“Because Robert trusted her more than he trusted me.”
That hurt Margaret to say.
Garrett heard it.
He didn’t comfort her.
Police put out an alert for Frank Barlow.
By midnight, Garrett returned to the hotel.
Emma was sleeping.
Sally waited near the window.
He told her everything.
When he finished, she whispered, “Robert knew.”
“Knew what?”
“That something was going to happen to him.”
“Maybe.”
“He gave me that compass three days before he died.”
Garrett stared.
“What did he say?”
Sally remembered.
“He said, ‘If Garrett ever needs to know who I really was, give him this.’”
Garrett sat down.
His father had been guilty.
His mother had lied.
His wife had run.
His daughter had grown up without him.
Everything he believed about his family was unraveling.
Sally sat beside him.
“I’m sorry.”
He looked at her.
“For what?”
“For what you’re finding out.”
Garrett laughed bitterly.
“You spent four years living this.”
“Yes.”
“And yesterday I mocked you for it.”
Sally looked down.
Garrett’s voice became quiet.
“I don’t know how to apologize for that.”
“You already did.”
“Not enough.”
“Maybe it never will be.”
He nodded.
“That’s fair.”
After a moment, Sally asked, “What happens if the DNA test says Emma is yours?”
Garrett looked at the sleeping child.
“I’m her father either way in my heart already.”
Sally’s eyes filled.
“You can’t say things like that.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m trying not to trust you yet.”
Garrett’s chest tightened.
He turned toward her.
“I’m not asking you to.”
For a moment, they were inches apart.
Then Emma murmured in her sleep.
Both looked over.
Sally smiled faintly.
Garrett did too.
His phone buzzed.
Daniel had sent a location.
Police had found Frank Barlow’s abandoned car beside an old Milford Maritime warehouse.
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The message beneath it read:
And Garrett? There’s blood in the driver’s seat.
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