Chapter 4 - Beneath the Workshop Floor
Daniel reached Madeleine first.
She had risen too quickly from her chair and nearly collapsed.
Adrien caught her before she struck the table.
“Madeleine?”
Her breathing was rapid.
She pointed toward the window.
“There was someone outside.”
Daniel looked.
Nothing.
Only the porch.
The driveway.
The dark trees beyond the fence.
“Who did you see?”
“A man.”
“What man?”
Madeleine shook her head.
“I couldn't see his face.”
Marc went outside immediately.
Laurent was still standing near the steps, phone in hand.
“Did you see anyone?” Marc asked.
Laurent looked toward the trees.
“No.”
Marc scanned the property.
There were no footprints visible on the gravel.
No vehicle moving along the road.
But near the side gate, something white had been wedged between two wooden boards.
An envelope.
Marc removed it carefully.
There was no name on the front.
Inside was a single photograph.
It showed Thomas Rousseau standing beside a younger Victor Harlan.
The two men appeared to be arguing outside a building.
On the back was a handwritten message.
HE KNEW WHAT THEY WERE DOING. THAT'S WHY HE DIED.
Laurent read the words twice.
His father had died fifteen years earlier from what doctors described as a sudden cardiac event.
He had been sixty-one.
Healthy enough to spend weekends repairing furniture.
Strong enough to carry lumber without asking for help.
His death had shocked everyone.
But nobody had suspected anything criminal.
Until now.
Laurent looked at Daniel.
“My father died three months before your mother.”
Daniel's expression changed.
The timing had never occurred to him.
Adrien studied the photograph.
“Do you know where this was taken?”
Laurent looked closely.
The brick building behind Thomas and Harlan had a faded blue sign.
He recognized it.
“The old municipal warehouse.”
Marc frowned.
“The one near the railroad tracks?”
“Yes.”
Adrien took a picture of the photograph.
“We should preserve this and the envelope. We may need to establish where they came from.”
Laurent barely heard him.
He was thinking about Samuel's call.
About the hidden evidence.
About his father's workshop.
“We need to go to Willow Creek Road,” he said.
Daniel nodded.
“Agreed.”
Madeleine suddenly stood.
“No.”
Everyone turned.
Her voice was stronger now.
“You can't go there tonight.”
Laurent frowned.
“Why?”
“Because you don't know what you're walking into.”
“Then tell us.”
Madeleine looked at him with an expression he had never seen before.
Fear.
Not the ordinary fear of an elderly woman worried about her family.
Something deeper.
Something remembered.
“Your father didn't trust Victor Harlan,” she whispered.
Laurent felt his heartbeat quicken.
“You knew?”
Madeleine nodded.
“He told me there were irregularities in the charity accounts.”
“What charity?”
“The Harbor Children's Initiative.”
Adrien exchanged a glance with Daniel.
Madeleine continued.
“Thomas had been hired to renovate one of their buildings. While working there, he noticed that supplies were being billed twice. Sometimes three times.”
Marc's face hardened.
“As a contractor, he'd have known.”
“He did. He started asking questions.”
“What happened?” Laurent asked.
Madeleine looked down.
“He was told to mind his own business.”
“By Harlan?”
“Yes.”
Laurent swallowed.
“And then Dad died.”
Madeleine nodded.
“I never believed Victor caused his death. I still don't know that. But Thomas was frightened before it happened.”
Daniel spoke carefully.
“Madeleine, why did you trust Harlan with the placement money?”
Tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Because I didn't know he was involved.”
Adrien frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“The organization used a different name when it arranged your placement. I didn't learn Victor was connected to it until later.”
“How much later?”
Madeleine's voice broke.
“After the money was gone.”
Nobody spoke.
Then Laurent asked the question that mattered most.
“Did you know Dad had hidden evidence?”
Madeleine shook her head.
“No.”
Laurent took out his phone.
He called Samuel Price again.
No answer.
He tried twice more.
Straight to voicemail.
Daniel stepped closer.
“What did Samuel tell you?”
Laurent explained.
The hidden compartment.
The workshop.
The promise.
When he finished, Daniel looked toward Adrien.
“We go tonight.”
Adrien nodded.
“But we don't go alone. We notify the local police that we've received threatening messages and may be retrieving historical evidence.”
Laurent grabbed his coat.
Marc followed.
The four men drove through town beneath a sky heavy with clouds.
Forty-seven Willow Creek Road stood at the end of a quiet street.
The house looked almost exactly as Laurent remembered.
Fresh white paint.
A repaired porch.
New windows.
The enormous oak tree still stood in the backyard.
Laurent stepped out of the car.
For a moment, he was eight years old again.
He could almost hear his father calling from the workshop.
“Come here, son. Let me show you how to make something that'll last.”
Marc unlocked the gate.
The workshop stood behind the house.
Its exterior had been restored, but the original workbench remained.
Laurent walked toward it.
His hands trembled.
He knelt.
Pressed against the old wooden floor.
Then noticed something.
One plank had a slightly different grain.
He inserted the tip of a screwdriver into the seam.
The board lifted.
Beneath it was a metal box.
Laurent stared.
Daniel knelt beside him.
“Open it.”
Inside were photographs.
Receipts.
A small notebook.
And a sealed letter.
On the envelope, written in Thomas Rousseau's unmistakable handwriting, were five words.
FOR LAURENT. IF I AM GONE.
Laurent opened it.
The first sentence made his knees weaken.
Son, if you're reading this, it means I was right not to trust the people who claimed they were helping children.
May you like
And the final sentence was worse.
Whatever happens, never let Victor Harlan find the list of names.
