Chapter 4 — The Photograph From Pier 44
Chapter 4 — The Photograph From Pier 44
The first bullet struck the stone pillar beside my head.
I dropped.
Ewan grabbed my coat and dragged me behind the altar as another shot tore through the wooden pews.
Celeste screamed.
Then the church went dark.
For one second, there was nothing but gunfire and splintering wood.
I heard someone shout.
A body hit the floor.
Then silence.
"Ewan!"
"I'm here."
"Celeste?"
No answer.
I looked around the altar.
My grandfather was gone.
So was my father.
And somewhere in the darkness, someone was breathing hard.
I crawled toward the sound.
Then a hand grabbed my wrist.
I nearly fired.
"It's me."
Celeste.
Blood ran down the side of her face.
"Where's Ewan?"
"Behind you."
I turned.
Ewan was kneeling beside a fallen man.
He looked at me.
"Your father."
I ran.
My Father
My father was alive.
That fact should have been impossible.
Yet there he was.
The man I had mourned for nine years.
The man whose funeral had taken place after a supposed heart attack.
The man whose ashes had been buried beside my grandfather's old estate.
His face was older.
Thinner.
Covered with bruises.
But it was him.
"Father."
His eyes opened.
He looked at me.
For a moment, there was no recognition.
Then his lips moved.
"Connor."
I knelt beside him.
"What happened?"
He tried to sit up.
Ewan stopped him.
"Don't."
My father looked at Ewan.
"You shouldn't have come back."
Ewan laughed bitterly.
"You've been saying that for six years."
My father closed his eyes.
"I'm sorry."
I stared at him.
"Sorry?"
He looked at me.
"I should have told you."
"Told me what?"
He swallowed.
"That the fire wasn't meant for Ewan."
My blood went cold.
"Then who was it meant for?"
My father looked toward Celeste.
She was standing several feet away.
His expression changed.
"Her."
Celeste froze.
I looked at her.
"What?"
My father continued.
"Pier 44 wasn't an accident."
"I know."
"No."
He shook his head.
"You don't know."
He reached inside his coat.
Pulled out a small photograph.
And handed it to me.
"That photograph is the reason everyone died."
The Photograph
I looked down.
It showed Pier 44.
The same warehouse.
The same night.
The same fire.
But this photograph had been taken before the explosion.
Not after.
In the foreground stood Ewan.
He was speaking to a woman.
Delia.
Behind them was Celeste.
And behind Celeste...
was my grandfather.
Anthony Bradley.
I stared.
"Why were they all there?"
My father looked at me.
"Because they were meeting."
"For what?"
"To exchange the ledger."
"What ledger?"
"The one your grandfather has spent six years trying to recover."
I looked at the photograph again.
There was something else.
A fourth person.
Half hidden behind a shipping container.
I zoomed in with my phone.
A man.
I recognized him.
Ray Calder.
One of the men who had worked for me.
He had been one of the organization's dock managers.
But Ray had died two years earlier.
Or so I'd been told.
I looked at my father.
"He's alive."
My father nodded.
"He was there."
"Why?"
"Because he was the one who started the fire."
The Truth About Pier 44
My father closed his eyes.
"I never wanted Ewan involved."
"Then why was he?"
"Because he found out what we were doing."
"What were you doing?"
"Trying to get people out."
I frowned.
"People?"
My father nodded.
"Your grandfather had spent decades collecting secrets. Politicians. Judges. Businessmen. Police officers."
"I know."
"No."
He looked at me.
"You don't."
His voice was weak.
"He didn't collect secrets to protect the family."
"He collected them to control people."
I understood.
"Blackmail."
"Yes."
"How many?"
"Enough to own half the city."
My father looked toward Ewan.
"Your brother discovered the system."
Ewan nodded.
"He found the ledger."
"Then he wanted to expose it."
"Yes."
My father looked at me.
"And that was when your grandfather decided Ewan had to disappear."
The Man in the Fire
"Why didn't you stop him?"
My father's expression broke.
"I tried."
"You were his son."
"I was also his prisoner."
I stared.
"What does that mean?"
He pulled back his sleeve.
A scar ran around his wrist.
A thin metal implant sat beneath the skin.
"What is that?"
"A tracker."
I stared.
"My father put it inside me."
"Why?"
"Because he didn't trust me."
"How long?"
"Twenty years."
I felt sick.
"He controlled you?"
"He controlled everyone."
"Then why did you fake your death?"
"Because I finally escaped."
"When?"
"Three days before the fire."
I stared.
"Then who died in your place?"
My father looked at me.
"A man named Samuel Reed."
"Why?"
"Because Anthony needed the city to believe I was dead."
"And Ewan?"
"Ewan was supposed to die with me."
I looked at the photograph.
The fire.
The people.
The moment before everything changed.
"What happened?"
My father whispered:
"Delia saved him."
Delia's Secret
I looked at Celeste.
"Where is Delia?"
She didn't answer.
"Ewan?"
He shook his head.
"I don't know."
My father looked confused.
"Delia is alive?"
"Yes."
"Then she knows."
"Knows what?"
"Who gave the order."
I turned.
"Who?"
My father stared at me.
"Anthony."
My grandfather.
I felt something inside me settle.
For years, I'd blamed the fire.
The accident.
The docks.
Bad wiring.
Chance.
There had been no accident.
There had been a decision.
Someone had chosen my brother's life.
And my family had buried the truth.
The Second Photograph
My father reached inside his coat again.
He pulled out another photograph.
"This one was taken five minutes after the fire started."
I took it.
Smoke covered the entire pier.
Firefighters were rushing toward the warehouse.
A black SUV sat near the water.
Someone was being dragged toward it.
I zoomed in.
A young man.
Ewan.
Alive.
His hands were tied.
Standing beside him was Ray Calder.
And beside Ray...
Celeste.
I looked at her.
She began crying.
"I didn't know."
"You were there."
"I was trying to stop them."
"You were standing beside him."
"I had no choice."
"You always say that."
She looked at me.
"Because it's true."
I held up the photograph.
"You were there when my brother was taken."
"Yes."
"You knew he survived."
"Yes."
"You knew my father was alive."
"Yes."
"You knew my grandfather was behind everything."
She closed her eyes.
"Yes."
My voice dropped.
"And you were going to marry me."
Celeste opened her eyes.
"Yes."
"Why?"
She looked at me.
"Because your grandfather ordered me to."
Silence.
The Engagement
I remembered the first time I met Celeste.
A charity dinner.
She had been standing alone near the balcony.
Black dress.
Silver earrings.
A glass of champagne she never drank.
She had looked at me as if she already knew me.
I thought it was attraction.
It had been surveillance.
Every date.
Every dinner.
Every conversation.
The weekend trips.
The engagement.
The wedding preparations.
All of it.
A plan.
I felt something crack inside my chest.
"Did you ever love me?"
Celeste's eyes filled with tears.
"At first, no."
"And later?"
She couldn't answer.
"Celeste."
She looked at me.
"Later, I did."
I laughed.
"That's supposed to make me feel better?"
"No."
She wiped her face.
"It was the worst thing that ever happened to me."
"Why?"
"Because I was ordered to destroy you."
The Wedding Contract
My father interrupted.
"She wasn't supposed to marry you."
I turned.
"What?"
"The wedding wasn't the objective."
"Then what was?"
"Your signature."
I froze.
"On what?"
"An inheritance transfer."
I stared at Celeste.
She nodded.
"Your grandfather needed you to sign over the Bradley holdings."
"Why?"
"Because after you married me, the contract would give me temporary control of the estate."
"And then?"
"You would disappear."
My stomach turned.
"Disappear how?"
She looked down.
"Like Ewan."
I stepped away from her.
For two years, I'd trusted this woman.
I'd planned a life with her.
I'd imagined children.
I'd imagined growing old beside her.
And all that time, she'd been planning my disappearance.
But there was something I still didn't understand.
"Why didn't you kill me?"
Celeste looked at me.
"Because I couldn't."
"Couldn't?"
"I tried."
I stared.
"When?"
"Three months ago."
She swallowed.
"The car accident on Lakeshore."
I remembered.
My brakes had failed.
I had barely survived.
"You?"
She nodded.
"I sabotaged the brakes."
My father looked at her.
"Celeste."
She whispered:
"I couldn't do it again."
The Man Who Started the Fire
A sound came from the church entrance.
Footsteps.
Ewan raised his weapon.
"Someone's coming."
We waited.
Then a man stepped into the moonlight.
Ray Calder.
Alive.
Older.
His face scarred.
He looked at me.
"Connor."
I raised my gun.
"You started the fire."
Ray shook his head.
"I lit it."
My finger tightened around the trigger.
"Why?"
"Because I was ordered to."
"By Anthony?"
"No."
I stared.
"Then who?"
Ray looked at my father.
My father lowered his head.
Ray whispered:
"Your mother."
Silence.
I felt the world stop.
"My mother?"
Ray nodded.
"She ordered the fire."
I looked at my father.
He didn't deny it.
Ewan looked stunned.
Celeste began shaking her head.
"No."
Ray continued.
"Your mother knew your grandfather was going to kill Ewan."
"So she started the fire?"
"She created chaos."
"To help him escape."
"Yes."
I stared at my father.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because if Anthony discovered your mother had betrayed him, he'd kill you."
"And Ewan?"
"He was supposed to disappear."
"Why?"
My father looked at his son.
"Because Ewan was the only person who knew where the second ledger was."
I turned to Ewan.
He said nothing.
"Where is it?"
Ewan looked at me.
"You're standing on it."
I looked down.
The church floor.
The old stone beneath our feet.
Ewan pointed toward the altar.
"Under there."
Beneath St. Michael's
We moved the altar.
Beneath it was a trapdoor.
A keyhole.
The black key from the box fit perfectly.
The door opened.
A narrow staircase descended.
Ewan went first.
Then me.
Then Celeste.
My father stayed above with Ray.
At the bottom was a small chamber.
In the center stood a steel box.
No lock.
Just a fingerprint scanner.
Ewan placed his hand against it.
Nothing.
I tried mine.
Nothing.
Celeste tried hers.
The box opened.
I stared at her.
"Why can you open it?"
She whispered:
"Because your father gave me access."
Inside was a black leather ledger.
Old.
Heavy.
Real.
I opened the first page.
Names.
Dates.
Payments.
Orders.
Then I turned another page.
My hands stopped.
There was an entry dated six years earlier.
PIER 44 — ORDER CONFIRMED.
Under it were three names.
ANTHONY BRADLEY.
VICTOR BRADLEY.
CELESTE VANDERMARK.
I looked at Celeste.
She stepped backward.
"I didn't sign that."
I turned the page.
The signature was unmistakable.
Celeste's.
She stared at it.
Her face went white.
"I never saw this."
Ewan took the ledger.
"That's not your signature."
"What?"
He pointed at a tiny mark beneath it.
"This was copied."
I looked closer.
The ink was different.
Someone had forged Celeste's signature.
I looked at my brother.
"Then who did it?"
He turned another page.
And there it was.
A signature.
My mother's.
Underneath a single sentence.
THE FIRE MUST HAPPEN.
My heart broke.
I stared at the handwriting.
It was hers.
No question.
My mother had ordered the fire.
But beneath the signature was another line.
Written in red.
IF SHE FAILS, KILL BOTH SONS.
And beside it...
was my grandfather's signature.
I closed the ledger.
Suddenly, the church above us erupted with gunfire.
My father shouted.
Ewan grabbed the ledger.
Celeste grabbed my arm.
"Connor!"
We ran upstairs.
The doors were open.
My father was gone.
Ray was dead.
And lying on the church floor was a single envelope.
My name was written across it.
I picked it up.
Inside was one photograph.
Not of my family.
Not of Pier 44.
Not of my grandfather.
It showed a woman standing beside a hospital bed.
My mother.
Six years earlier.
And beside her...
was a newborn baby.
I stared at the photograph.
On the back were six words:
YOU HAVE A SISTER, CONNOR.
I looked at Celeste.
She was crying.
Ewan went completely pale.
And somewhere outside the church, a car engine started.
Then my phone rang.
My grandfather's voice came through.
"Now you know why your mother was willing to burn the world."
A pause.
May you like
"Tomorrow, I'll tell you who your sister is."
The line went dead.
