Chapter 2: The Man Who Was in the Truck
For a moment, I couldn't hear anything.
The marching band was still playing. People were still celebrating. Somewhere behind us, a reporter was shouting my name.
But all I could hear was Marcus Reed's voice.
"He was with me.""
I looked at him.
Then at Arthur.
"Explain.""
Arthur stepped between us.
"Not here.""
"No. You don't get to say that anymore.""
My voice came out louder than I intended.
A few people turned.
I didn't care.
"Marcus just told me he was in the truck when my father died. The police said Dad was alone.""
Marcus rubbed his forehead.
"That's not exactly what happened.""
"Then what happened?""
Arthur glanced toward the stadium entrance.
"Let's go home.""
I pulled my arm away.
"You've been telling me my entire life that honesty matters. You told me that even when the truth hurts, lying makes everything worse.""
Arthur looked as though I had slapped him.
"You're right.""
"Then tell me.""
He opened his mouth.
But Marcus interrupted.
"Michael asked me to meet him that night. He said he had something important to discuss.""
"What?""
Marcus looked at Arthur.
Arthur gave him a warning stare.
Marcus ignored it.
"Money. Documents. Something he'd discovered at work.""
"My father was a mechanic.""
"Noah, your father owned more than a repair shop.""
I frowned.
"What does that mean?""
Marcus looked around before lowering his voice.
"Your father had a second business. He invested in a transportation company with several local partners. He wasn't rich, but he was doing well. Much better than most people knew.""
"Why didn't anyone tell me?""
"Because he didn't want you involved.""
Arthur finally spoke.
"Marcus, that's enough.""
I turned toward him.
"Why are you protecting him?""
"I'm not protecting anyone.""
"Then why do you keep stopping him?""
Arthur's jaw tightened.
Before he could answer, my phone vibrated.
A text message from an unknown number appeared.
*Stop asking questions about Michael Bennett. You have no idea what happened to him.*
I showed it to Arthur.
He read it once.
Then again.
His expression changed.
"Give me your phone.""
"Why?""
"Now, Noah.""
I stepped backward.
"No.""
Marcus reached for the phone, but Arthur stopped him.
"Don't.""
That single word sounded different from anything I'd heard him say before.
It wasn't the voice of a tired father trying to calm his son.
It was the voice of a man giving an order.
I looked between them.
"What aren't you telling me?""
Arthur finally exhaled.
"Your father was investigating financial fraud.""
I stared at him.
"Fraud?""
"Someone had been taking money from the transportation company. Michael found irregularities in the accounts. He believed one of the partners was stealing from the business.""
"Who?""
Arthur didn't answer.
Marcus did.
"Richard Vale.""
The name meant nothing to me at first.
Then I remembered hearing it during childhood conversations.
Richard Vale had been a businessman who owned several commercial properties in our town. He had attended my father's funeral. He had sent flowers every year afterward.
He had even donated money to my high school football program.
"Richard Vale?"" I repeated.
"The guy who sponsored our team?""
Marcus nodded.
"That same man.""
I looked at Arthur.
"Did you know?""
"Yes.""
"How long?""
"Since before your father died.""
The answer landed like a punch.
I stepped away.
"You knew someone was stealing from my father?""
"Michael suspected it. We didn't have proof.""
"But you knew.""
Arthur rubbed both hands over his face.
"Noah, I was trying to protect you.""
"From what? The truth?""
He looked at me.
"From becoming a target.""
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Marcus said something that made everything worse.
"Michael didn't die because he lost control of his truck.""
Arthur turned sharply.
"Marcus.""
"Noah deserves to know.""
I felt my stomach twist.
"What are you saying?""
Marcus swallowed.
"The night of the accident, Michael called me. He said somebody had followed him from the office. He was frightened.""
"Why didn't he call the police?""
"He didn't trust them.""
"Why?""
Marcus looked away.
"Because one of the officers was connected to Richard.""
I felt the ground shift beneath me.
My father had been afraid.
He had known something was wrong.
And somehow, the people who were supposed to help him had become part of the problem.
"Then what happened?"" I asked.
Marcus took a slow breath.
"I met him at the old service road near Miller Creek. He gave me a folder. He said if anything happened to him, I needed to take it to Arthur.""
I turned toward Arthur.
"Did you get the folder?""
Arthur's silence answered me.
"Did you?""
He nodded slowly.
"Yes.""
"Where is it?""
"I destroyed it.""
I stared at him.
"You what?""
"It contained information that could have put you in danger.""
"That was my father's evidence!""
"I know.""
"You destroyed it?""
Arthur's voice cracked.
"I was twenty-nine years old, Noah. I had just buried my best friend. I had a ten-year-old boy sleeping in my spare bedroom, waking up screaming because he wanted his mother and father. I was trying to keep you alive.""
I wanted to stay angry.
I wanted to tell him that none of that gave him the right to decide what I deserved to know.
But the pain in his voice stopped me.
For a second, I saw the younger version of him.
The man who had stood at my father's grave with one hand on my shoulder.
The man who had taken me home when everyone else was arguing about temporary guardianship.
Still, there was something he hadn't explained.
"Why did Marcus say he was with Dad?""
Arthur looked down.
Marcus answered.
"I was in the passenger seat.""
My throat tightened.
"Then why did the police say Dad was alone?""
"Because I was gone before they arrived.""
"What?""
"Michael and I were arguing. He wanted to take the evidence directly to the authorities. I wanted him to wait until we could find someone we trusted.""
"And?""
Marcus's eyes filled with tears.
"He told me to get out of the truck.""
I stared at him.
"You left him?""
"I thought he was going to drive to Arthur's house. I thought he'd be safe.""
"And then?""
"Twenty minutes later, I got a call. They said his truck had gone off the road.""
My hands began shaking.
"Did you see the accident?""
Marcus nodded.
"Yes.""
"Was he alive?""
Marcus didn't answer immediately.
That was enough.
"Was he alive?""
"He was when I reached him.""
I felt my chest tighten.
"Then why didn't you call an ambulance?""
Marcus stepped forward.
"I did.""
"Why didn't you tell the police you were there?""
"Because somebody had already arrived.""
"Who?""
Marcus looked directly at Arthur.
"Richard Vale.""
I turned toward the man who had raised me.
Arthur's face had gone completely white.
"Richard was at the scene?"" I whispered.
Marcus nodded.
"And he told me something I have spent ten years trying to forget.""
"What?""
Marcus lowered his voice.
"He said that if I wanted you to grow up with a father, I needed to keep my mouth shut.""
The stadium lights flickered behind us.
Arthur gripped my shoulder.
"Marcus, stop.""
But I pulled away.
"Did Richard kill my father?""
Marcus closed his eyes.
"I don't know.""
"Then why are you both acting like you do?""
Arthur looked toward the parking lot.
"Because I saw something that night.""
My heart began pounding.
"What?""
He stared at me for a long moment.
Then he said, "I wasn't supposed to be there, Noah.""
I froze.
"What do you mean?""
Arthur's voice dropped to a whisper.
"I arrived at the accident before the ambulance.""
My mind struggled to process the words.
"You were there too?""
He nodded.
"Yes.""
"Why?""
Arthur looked at the trophy still sitting on a nearby equipment table.
Then he looked at me.
"Because your father called me that night.""
I swallowed.
"What did he say?""
Arthur's eyes filled with tears.
"He told me to come get you.""
"Get me from where?""
He took a shaky breath.
"From your house.""
I stared at him.
I had spent ten years believing my father died on a rainy road after leaving work.
But now I was learning that he had called Arthur before the accident.
He had asked him to come for me.
And Arthur had never told me.
"Was someone coming after me?"" I asked.
Arthur nodded.
"Yes.""
"Who?""
He looked at Marcus.
Marcus looked toward the parking lot.
Then a black SUV slowly pulled into the stadium entrance.
Arthur grabbed my arm.
"Get inside the building.""
"Why?""
"Because that's Richard Vale's car.""
The driver's door opened.
A man in an expensive charcoal suit stepped out.
He looked older than I remembered.
But his smile was exactly the same.
Richard Vale looked straight at me.
Then he lifted one hand in greeting.
"Congratulations, Noah!""
He started walking toward us.
May you like
And Arthur whispered something I will never forget.
"Whatever he tells you, don't let him convince you that I killed your father.""
