Cole asked, pulling out his notepad. “Did he give a name?”
“No,” Martha shook her head. “But I knew his face. He was one of the homeless men who lived in the abandoned cabins in the woods. They called him Silas.”
“Silas,” Arthur repeated, committing the name to memory like a verdict. “Do you know where he is now?”
“He disappeared after that night,” the old woman said. “But he used to do odd jobs at the old grain elevator on the other side of the county. If he’s still alive, maybe someone there remembers him.”
Suddenly, the sound of shattering glass broke the conversation. A rock wrapped in paper flew through the window, landing at Arthur’s feet. Security guards rushed in, drawing their weapons.
“Down!” Cole yelled, pushing Anna to the floor.
Arthur didn’t move. He bent down and picked up the rock, unwrapping the paper with furious hands.
“What does it say?” Anna asked, trembling.
Arthur read the note aloud in a tone that promised vengeance:
“‘Stop digging in the ashes, or you’ll get burned.’”
“They followed us,” Cole said, looking out the broken window at the empty street.
“Good,” Arthur said, crumpling the paper in his fist. “It means they’re scared. We’re going to the grain elevator. We’ll find Silas before they do.”
The security convoy pulled up to the edge of the industrial park, the most depressed part of the county. The buildings here weren’t glass skyscrapers but gray brick blocks with broken windows and faded graffiti. Arthur looked out the tinted window in disgust.
“This place is a maze,” he said. “Where do we start?”
“The elevator was shut down ten years ago,” the detective replied, studying a paper map. “It’s an unofficial shelter for the homeless now. If Silas is still around, he’ll be there.”
“We go in, we get him, and we get out,” Arthur ordered, opening his door.
“Wait,” Anna said, grabbing his arm. “You can’t go in there looking like that.”
Arthur looked down at his three-piece Italian suit and platinum watch.
“And what do you suggest? That I change? We don’t have time.”
“I suggest you let me do the talking,” Anna said, getting out of the car. “You smell like money and cops. If you go in there demanding answers, they’ll clam up. I know these people. I’ve lived like them.”
Arthur hesitated, but Detective Cole nodded.
“The girl’s right, Mr. Blackwood. Your presence screams authority. They don’t like authority around here.”
The group proceeded on foot down a narrow alley. The air smelled of burnt trash and dampness. A group of men were playing cards against a wall. When they saw Arthur and his bodyguards, they stopped and spat on the ground.
“You lost, tourists?” one of them asked.
A man with a neck tattoo stepped forward to block their path.
“The toll for passing through is steep.”
Arthur’s bodyguards reached for the weapons under their jackets. The tension spiked in a second.
“Get out of the way,” Arthur warned in an icy voice.
“Or what, you gonna call your daddy?” the man sneered, pulling out a knife.
Before Arthur could react, Anna stepped forward, pushing her father back with surprising strength, and stood face-to-face with the tattooed man.
“Put that away, Marco,” she said in a firm voice.
The man blinked in confusion.
“You know my name?”
“I used to clean the bar where you drink on Fridays,” Anna said, crossing her arms. “I know you have a sick daughter in the next block over, and I know that if you mess with this man, the state troopers will swarm this place, and there won’t be anything left of this neighborhood. Do you want that for your daughter?”
Marco slowly lowered the knife, a flicker of recognition in his eyes.
“The cleaning girl… What are you doing with these vultures?”
“I’m looking for Silas,” Anna said, ignoring the insult. “The one with the limp, they say. He’s at the old warehouse. I need to see him. It’s life or death, Marco.”
The man hesitated, his eyes darting from the cash peeking out of Arthur’s pocket to Anna’s pleading eyes.
“Silas is a ghost,” Marco grunted. “Doesn’t talk to anyone. Lives in the watchtower of the west-end warehouse. But be careful, he’s got a shotgun and he doesn’t like visitors.”
“Thank you,” Anna said.
As they walked past, Arthur looked at his daughter with a mixture of astonishment and respect.
“How did you know that?”
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