Chapter 24
Eleven Minutes
The phone company had preserved no recording, only the length of the call and a location ping from a payphone near the harbor.
Mara went there alone. The booth was gone; a coffee kiosk stood in its place, the smell of roasted beans mingling with the salty air. She stepped away from the bustling crowd, her heels clicking against the cobblestones, and approached the small patch of concrete where the booth once stood. The kiosk's barista was busy frothing milk for a cappuccino, oblivious to her presence.
Behind the kiosk, a plaque gleamed in the afternoon sun, commemorating a waterfront project funded by Shoreline Civic Partners. Mara traced her fingers over the engraved lettering, her mind racing with memories of her father’s obsession with clean waters and community projects. He had always believed in the power of money to change lives, but now it felt like a shackle.
Leon arrived, his face taut with frustration. “You keep acting like evidence can protect you,” he said, his voice low yet sharp. He stood with his arms crossed, the muscles in his jaw working as he spoke.
Mara turned to face him, the wind catching her hair. “You keep acting like money can.” She didn’t flinch, but the words stung. They both knew how much truth lay in the exchange.
“Did you even think about what I said?” He stepped closer, lowering his voice, like the passersby could hear them. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Mara.”
“Sometimes it’s the only game worth playing,” she replied, her tone defiant. She could feel the weight of his stare, a mix of concern and anger.
Under the plaque, someone had scratched a date into the concrete. Mara squatted down, her heart thumping as she read it. The date matched the night Park died. A chill ran through her.
Beside it were two letters: M.C.
Mara bent closer, her breath catching in her throat. The initials were not carved by her mother. They were carved by her father.
“Look at this,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s him. My father.” She pointed to the letters, her mind racing.
“Why would he—” Leon began, but Mara cut him off.
“Why would he be here? Why would he mark this date?” She felt the ground shift beneath her, the consequences weighing heavily on her shoulders.
Leon’s expression softened, but the anger still simmered beneath the surface. “Maybe it’s a coincidence. Maybe it means nothing.”
“Nothing?” Mara shot back, standing up abruptly. “My father was here the night Park died. This means something, Leon. Something I need to figure out.”
“Or it could mean you’re putting yourself in danger. Again.” His voice was firm, but there was a hint of pleading in his eyes.
Mara turned away, staring out at the harbor, where boats bobbed in the gentle waves. “I can’t go back now. Not after everything.” She could feel the weight of the world pressing down on her, the shadows of her past closing in.
Leon stepped closer, his tone shifting, softer. “What if you’re wrong? What if you’re chasing ghosts?”
Mara clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. “Then I’ll face them. I won’t let fear dictate my choices anymore.”
Leon sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You’re making a choice right now, Mara. A dangerous one.”
“Maybe it’s the only choice I have left,” she snapped, her frustration boiling over. The coffee kiosk’s barista glanced over, sensing the tension.
Mara turned back to the plaque, her determination solidifying. “I need to know what he was doing here, and why it connects to Park. This could change everything.”
Leon’s eyes darkened. “And if it doesn’t? What then?”
Mara hesitated, the weight of his question hanging in the air. She could feel the stakes rising, the pressure mounting. “I’ll deal with that when I get there,” she replied, her voice steady.
As she stepped away from the plaque, she caught a glint of something metallic half-buried in the gravel beside it. Kneeling down, she brushed away the dirt and unearthed a small key, its surface tarnished but still intact.
“What’s that?” Leon asked, his voice low with curiosity.
Mara held it up, the sunlight catching the edges. “I don’t know, but I think it’s time to find out.”
With that, she slipped the key into her pocket, her heart racing with the promise of secrets waiting to be unlocked.