“I suspected.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I was trying to protect you.”
I almost laughed.
“You threatened to fire me if I didn’t come here!”
“I needed you here because someone is watching you.”
The room suddenly felt colder.
Mr. Harrison pulled out his phone and showed me several photographs.
My apartment building.
My car.
Me entering the office.
Someone had been following me for weeks.
“We discovered that the people who stole the money believe your father left the evidence with you.”
“I don’t have anything.”
“You do,” he said.
“What?”
“Your father left something in your possession.”
I thought about it.
Then I remembered an old wooden box sitting in the back of my closet.
My father had given it to me when I was seventeen.
He had always told me never to throw it away.
I looked at Mr. Harrison.
“The box…”
He nodded.
“Exactly.”
I drove home with Daniel following behind me.
Inside my apartment, I pulled the old box from the closet.
My hands trembled as I opened it.
There was almost nothing inside.
A photograph.
An old watch.
And a small brass key.
Daniel examined it carefully.
“Where does this go?”
I suddenly remembered something.
The watch.
My father had always worn it.
I turned it over.
There was a tiny keyhole hidden beneath the strap.
The brass key fit perfectly.
With a click, the back of the watch opened.
Inside was a miniature memory card.
Daniel stared at it.
