He knew he should wait.
He didn't.
Inside were photographs.
Tax forms.
Military documents.
Service manuals.
Letters.
A broken wristwatch.
Then a small black notebook.
Caleb opened it.
Most pages contained engine notes.
Part numbers.
Measurements.
Sketches.
Halfway through, handwriting changed.
Dates.
License plates.
Bank account fragments.
Initials.
W.K.
L.K.
R.R.
One line had been underlined three times:
WADE DIDN’T ACT ALONE.
Caleb stopped breathing.
The next page:
LUTHER KNOWS.
Another:
Rourke won't listen while angry. Find proof first.
Caleb sat on the hallway floor.
His father had known.
At least suspected.
Years before everyone else.
Then another page.
A location.
Desert Star Storage — Unit 118.
Caleb photographed everything.
Then returned the notebook.
He felt guilty immediately.
But curiosity overpowered guilt.
The next morning at Iron Ridge, he showed Rourke the photographs.
Rourke went pale.
“Where did you get these?”
“Dad’s notebook.”
“Your mother know?”
“No.”
Rourke closed his eyes.
“Caleb.”
“What?”
“You need to tell her.”
“After we figure this out.”
“No.”
“You said Luther left over money.”
“I said you tell her.”
Caleb pointed at the phone.
“Dad wrote Luther knows.”
Rourke stared.
Mason walked over.
“What’s going on?”
Rourke showed him.
Mason read.
His face hardened.
“We thought that storage place closed.”
Rourke looked at him.
“You remember it?”
“Wade rented space there.”
Caleb’s pulse quickened.
“Unit 118.”
Mason looked at Rourke.
Neither spoke.
Caleb said:
“We should go.”
Rourke immediately answered:
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because you're sixteen.”
“That hasn't stopped you from letting me rebuild carburetors.”
“This isn't a carburetor.”
“It’s storage.”
“It’s potentially evidence.”
Caleb laughed.
“Evidence from twenty years ago?”
“Still.”
“What if Dad left something there?”
Rourke looked toward the notebook photographs.
“He might have.”
“So?”
“So adults handle it.”
Caleb hated the phrase.
Rourke saw.
“Tough.”
Caleb folded his arms.
“What are you going to do?”
“Call your mother first.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“She'll shut everything down.”
“Probably.”
“Rourke.”
“You wanted me to be honest?”
Caleb stared.
“Here's honest.”
Rourke leaned closer.
“I already failed your father once because I thought loyalty meant keeping everything inside the room.”
“I’m not making the same mistake with you.”
Caleb did not answer.
Rourke called Elena.
She arrived forty minutes later.
Furious.
Not loud.
Worse.
Quiet.
“You went through his things.”
Caleb stared at the floor.
“Yes.”
“Without asking.”
“Yes.”
“You photographed private notes.”
“Yes.”