Chapter 4 - The Garage Box
The rain began to fall just as Julian’s black SUV pulled into the gravel driveway of Hannah’s modest rental home in a quiet working-class neighborhood of Yonkers. It was a stark contrast to the sprawling grandeur of the Westchester estate—a small, peeling-paint duplex with a flickering porch light and a yard dominated by a rusted swing set.
Inside, the air smelled of laundry detergent and cinnamon. Ellie had fallen asleep in the back seat of the SUV, wrapped in Julian’s heavy cashmere coat, her small face peaceful and entirely detached from the heavy secrets weighing down the adults. Julian had carried her inside himself, laying her gently on Hannah’s narrow living room sofa before turning his attention to the garage.
The garage was uninsulated, damp, and cluttered with plastic bins, old bicycle parts, and tools bearing the patina of years of hard labor.
Hannah flicked on the overhead fluorescent bulb, which flickered twice before casting a harsh, buzzing white light over the space. She pointed to a stack of taped cardboard boxes resting against the back wall.
“Those are Daniel’s things,” she said quietly, her arms crossed against the evening chill. “His personal effects from the transport company. Pay stubs, logbooks, old uniforms.”
Julian didn't hesitate. He stepped forward with a utility knife in hand, slicing through the heavy packing tape on the topmost box. He began tossing items aside with methodical precision—tax forms, mechanic receipts, crumpled candy wrappers—until his hand hit something hard at the bottom.
It was a heavy, black leather dispatch folder.
Julian pulled it out, blowing a thick layer of dust off the cover. He carried it over to the small workbench beneath the light, snapping the brass clasps open.
Inside were shipping manifests, employee ID cards, and a thick stack of personal notebooks.
Hannah leaned over his shoulder, her breath catching as Julian flipped open the first notebook. The pages were filled with Daniel’s messy, hurried handwriting.
“Look at the dates,” Julian whispered, pointing to the top corner of a page. October 14.
They began reading together in breathless silence.
“Dropped the freight at Warehouse B in Yonkers,” Julian read aloud, his voice strained. “Dispatcher told me to take an unscheduled detour up Route 9W. Said there was an urgent private pickup. Cash bonus promised. Met a black sedan parked near the abandoned blue shed at Mile Marker 42. It was raining so hard I could barely see my own hood.”
Hannah’s hands flew to her mouth. “Oh god.”
Julian flipped the page, his eyes darting across the lines.
“When I pulled up behind the sedan, a woman staggered out of the passenger door. She was bleeding. She begged me for help. Said her husband was being targeted by competitors—some high-level corporate espionage syndicate trying to bankrupt Mercer Global Logistics. She handed me a ring and a letter, telling me to hide them where nobody would ever look, because her phone was tapped and she was being hunted.”
Julian stopped reading. The words blurred before his eyes.
Her husband was being targeted.
Not an accident.
Not a simple hydroplane on a wet highway.
An assassination attempt disguised as a storm-related wreck, orchestrated by someone who wanted to destroy Julian Mercer by destroying everything he loved.
“It wasn't an accident,” Julian whispered, the realization hitting him with the force of a physical blow. He gripped the edge of the workbench so hard his knuckles turned white. “Claire... Claire knew they were coming after her. She tried to run, tried to protect me, and they forced her off the road anyway.”
Hannah grabbed his arm, her eyes wide with terror. “Julian, read the next line. Look at the bottom of the page.”
Julian forced his eyes back down to the notebook.
“The men in the black sedan saw me talking to her. They chased me down the road before I could get her into my truck. I had to run into the woods to save my own skin. When I crawled back out an hour later, the police and ambulances were already everywhere. I threw the ring in my glove box and swore I’d take the secret to my grave. If they knew I was there, they’d kill Hannah and Ellie, too.”
Julian closed the notebook with a heavy thud that rattled the dust off the workbench. He stood up slowly, his expression transforming from grief-stricken widower into something cold, calculating, and absolutely lethal.
May you like
The corporate titan had returned. But this time, he wasn't fighting for a merger.
He was hunting killers.
