Corinne had often gone out in the morning and not returned until evening. Both her parents assumed she was either at university or working on assignments for her studies, and equally assumed she would not be home during the day.
Most of the time they assumed correctly.
However, a few months ago she had returned early to find her father in his study, looking very annoyed. He had admonished her for not telling him she would be returning home earlier than usual and told her in no uncertain terms that she was to call ahead if she was coming home early.
When she asked him why he hadn’t answered. At the time she thought it odd but fitting with his sometimes eccentric behaviour and let it pass.
Since Harry’s accident she had become suspicious again, wondering what it was he didn’t want her to discover.
At first she thought he was having an affaiir and she deliberately returned at various times of the day to check whether he was there. The first few tines no one was home but for the last few weeks he was, and after discovering what had happened to her brother and when, it seemed in her mind, connected.
The second time she had seen him on the phone in the study, yelling at some invisible person on the other end of the line, using language she had never heard him use before.
It was as if he was being blackmailed because it sounded like he was being forced to do something that would jeopardize his integrity and reputation.
When she remembered that event, she also remembered one other detail. She had heard him relate an address as he wrote it down.
A memorable address as the street was named after a city she had been reading about that very morning. The same street that was on the piece of paper under the drawer in Harry’s office.
Why did Harry have that address, and why had he hidden it away so no one would find it?
Did Harry know his father had it too?
What was at that address?
There was only one way to find out.
It was an empty block. A wire fence, slowly rusting away, a gated entrance with a rusted lock and chain which clearly hadn’t been used in a very long time.
The block that time forgot.
There was a small wooden shed in the middle with windows that had been boarded up and a door which from where she was standing just outside the fenceline had and equally rusted and disused lock.
She looked around, noting on either side of it two buildings that were in disrepair and apparently enpty. Both had scaffolding that had begun to rust an indication it had been there for some time.
On the opposite side of the road the buildings were warehouses, and showed signs of use. It was obvious though whoever owned the properties didn’t care for them.
An ideal place, she thought, to bulldoze and build luxury waterside apartments. The land itself would be worth a small fortune.
But the question was, what both her father and her brother’s connection was to this place.
Having seen enough, and no closer to finding any clues, she got in her car and drove off.
A minute or two later, after the car disappeared from view a man came out from a hidden doorway and dialled a number and waited.
When the call was answered he said, “the daughter was here. I though you said the situation had been contained.”
He listened to the voice on the other end and said, “I’ll see to it myself.”
© Charles Heath 2016