The Secret Beneath the Clock Tower
Chapter 3
That evening, Vivian found Daniel exactly where she had left him.
His stand was illuminated by a battery-powered lamp.
The rain had stopped.
Only a few umbrellas remained.
“You gave me this,” Vivian said.
Daniel looked at the document.
“I gave you a copy.”
“Where did you get it?”
“From an old box.”
“What old box?”
He didn’t answer.
Vivian stepped closer.
“You seem to know an unusual amount about my family.”
Daniel folded an umbrella.
“Your family owns a building.”
“My family owns a hotel.”
“That’s what I said.”
She frowned.
“Who are you?”
“I already told you.”
“That isn’t enough.”
Daniel looked at her for a long moment.
“Your father used to come here.”
Vivian froze.
“When?”
“Before you were born.”
“Why?”
“He wasn’t buying umbrellas.”
“Then what was he doing?”
Daniel hesitated.
“Talking to my father.”
Vivian’s suspicion sharpened.
“Your father?”
“My father owned this stand.”
She looked around.
“This exact stand?”
“Not exactly. He sold newspapers here first. Later umbrellas.”
“What was his name?”
“Samuel Reed.”
Vivian’s mind searched through everything she remembered.
Nothing.
Daniel continued.
“Samuel knew your mother.”
Vivian’s throat tightened.
“How?”
“They worked together.”
“Worked together doing what?”
“Trying to stop your father from making a mistake.”
“What mistake?”
Daniel didn’t answer.
Vivian grabbed the document.
“Tell me.”
He shook his head.
“Not here.”
“Then where?”
“Tomorrow. Seven in the morning. Old Harbor Station.”
Vivian stared at him.
“You expect me to meet you there?”
“If you want the truth.”
“And if I don’t?”
Daniel shrugged.
“Then you’ll keep believing the version of your family history that someone wrote for you.”
He turned back toward his stand.
Vivian walked away.
She barely slept.
At 6:42 the next morning, she arrived at Old Harbor Station.
Daniel was already there.
He wasn’t dressed like a street vendor.
He wore a dark jacket and carried a leather case.
Vivian noticed immediately.
“You look different.”
“So do you.”
“How?”
“You look like someone who wants an answer.”
They walked toward an abandoned platform.
Daniel opened the leather case.
Inside were dozens of photographs.
The first showed Vivian’s mother standing beside Samuel Reed.
The second showed Richard Cole.
The third showed all three together.
Vivian stared.
“This was taken where?”
“On the night before the hotel opened.”
She looked closer.
Behind them was the original Cole Meridian construction site.
But something was wrong.
The building in the photograph wasn’t the same shape as the hotel today.
“What happened?”
Daniel removed another photograph.
“This.”
It showed a basement excavation.
A large metal door was visible beneath the foundation.
Vivian’s voice dropped.
“What is that?”
“My father called it the vault.”
“What was inside?”
Daniel looked at her.
“Records.”
“What records?”
“Land deeds. Investment agreements. Payment ledgers.”
Vivian understood.
“Evidence.”
Daniel nodded.
“Evidence that the hotel wasn’t built with your father’s money.”
She stared at him.
“Then whose?”
Before Daniel could answer, footsteps echoed through the station.
Someone was coming.
Daniel closed the case.
“Run.”
Vivian turned.
A man stood at the far end of the platform.
He wasn’t security.
He wasn’t police.
And he was holding the same kind of leather case Daniel had.
