Chapter 1 - The Secret Beneath the NotebookSomething hard shifted underneath the paper lining.

I stared at Mia.

She stared back.

Her small finger remained pressed against the inside cover of the purple notebook.

For the first time since my parents had dropped her at my house, she looked directly into my eyes.

Not frightened.

Not confused.

Urgent.

I carefully closed the office door.

Then I locked it.

"Is this what you want me to see?"

Mia nodded.

I turned the notebook over.

The back cover was thicker than it should have been.

Someone had carefully glued a second layer of cardboard beneath the original.

I slid a letter opener into the seam.

Mia flinched at the sound.

"Sorry."

I worked slowly.

The cardboard lifted.

Something small slipped onto my desk.

A memory card.

I stared at it.

My heart began pounding.

I looked at Mia.

She pointed toward the computer.

"You want me to open it?"

She nodded.

I inserted the card.

There was only one folder.

CALEB

Inside were eleven video files.

The first was dated three months before my brother died.

I clicked it.

The screen showed Caleb sitting in the warehouse office.

He looked exhausted.

Behind him were stacks of shipping documents.

He leaned toward the camera.

"If you're watching this, something happened."

I stopped breathing.

Mia climbed into the chair beside me.

Caleb continued.

"Mom and Dad are involved in something they don't want anyone to know about."

I looked at Mia.

She didn't blink.

The video continued.

"I found discrepancies in the warehouse inventory."

He held up a folder.

"Boxes are being moved at night. The records say they're empty."

He shook his head.

"They aren't."

A noise came from outside.

Caleb looked toward the door.

Then back at the camera.

"I don't know who I can trust."

The video ended.

I sat completely still.

My brother had recorded evidence against our parents.

Two years ago.

Before the fire.

I opened the second video.

Caleb looked even more frightened.

"If something happens to me, don't believe the fire was an accident."

My hand covered my mouth.

Mia reached for mine.

I squeezed her fingers.

The third video showed a storage unit.

Blue.

Exactly like the drawing.

Caleb stood outside it.

He whispered:

"This is where I kept the originals."

Then he looked over his shoulder.

"I need to move them."

The video ended.

I immediately called Agent Morris.

She answered on the second ring.

"Where did you get that?"

"I found it in Mia's notebook."

There was silence.

Then:

"Do not remove the card."

"I'm watching the videos."

"Stop."

I paused.

"Why?"

"Because if those files are authentic, you may have evidence connected to an active federal investigation."

I stared at the screen.

"An investigation into what?"

"Your brother's death."

My stomach tightened.

"You knew?"

"We've suspected for two years that the warehouse fire was connected to financial fraud."

"Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"Because we didn't know who inside the family was compromised."

I looked at Mia.

"My parents?"

"We couldn't prove it."

I thought about the custody statement.

Born silent. Too broken to answer investigators.

A lie designed to make everyone dismiss her.

"Agent Morris."

"Yes?"

"My parents are on a cruise."

"I know."

"They're returning Sunday."

"Then listen carefully."

Her voice became firm.

"Do not confront them."

"I won't."

"Do not tell them what you've found."

"I won't."

"And don't let Mia out of your sight."

I looked at my niece.

She was staring at the screen.

Then she suddenly grabbed my sleeve.

She pointed at the third video.

I rewound it.

This time I noticed something behind Caleb.

A small metal locker.

Number 17.

Mia pointed at it.

Then she pointed to her drawing.

The blue storage unit.

I understood.

"Agent Morris."

"Yes?"

"I think Mia knows where the originals are."

The agent went silent.

Then she said:

"Ask her one question."

"What?"

"Does she know what's inside Unit 17?"

I turned toward Mia.

"Mia."

She looked at me.

"Do you know what's inside Unit 17?"

She nodded.

Then she reached for her notebook.

She turned to a fresh page.

She drew a key.

Beneath it, she wrote:

GRANDPA HAS IT.

My blood went cold.

Because my father was scheduled to return from the cruise in less than seventy-two hours.

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And suddenly, I wasn't just protecting a traumatized nine-year-old.

I was protecting the only person who knew where my brother's missing evidence was hidden.