Chapter 3

For a moment, I couldn't move, someone had broken into the archives, the place where I'd spent the last hour digging through records connected to my father and Soren was telling me they were looking for me, “how do you know?” Soren was already moving, “come with me.”

I followed him out of the office as he was walking very faster, "wait Soren,” he didn't stop.

He finally turned, “were they looking for me because of my father?” his expression gave me nothing, “I don't know, am trying to get you somewhere safe.”

My expression changed, why is he trying to get me somewhere safe, have I done anything wrong? what is really happening, my heart was beating so fast as I stopped, "I don't need,” I turned back. “Nyla,” his voice stopped me, “stay close.” The way he said it made me listen.

We reached the elevator, Soren pressed the button, I looked at him, “did anyone get hurt and did you see who did it?"

“No, he replied.

I became so curious, "then how do you know they were looking for me?” The elevator doors opened, Soren stepped inside, I followed, “because they didn't take anything,” The doors closed, I frowned, “what?”

Soren keep an eye on me, “they went through the files you were searching,” my stomach began hurting me, "how do you know which files?”

Soren didn't stop walking, "I checked the security footage.” I looked at him surprisingly, “you have cameras in the archives, then you should know who broke in.”

“We lost the footage,” I stared at him, “the cameras stop working exactly when someone breaks into the archives and someone erased the footage.”

I looked at Soren trying to understand him fully, "someone inside the company?” Soren didn't answer.

The elevator stopped, the doors opened onto the lobby. He walked straight through, I hurried after him,“where are we going?” he stopped, "home."

 I Itopped, “you're not sending me home because I don't know what's happening.” He watched me, "neither do I."

That was the first thing he'd said all morning that sounded completely honest, I stared at him, Soren glanced toward the glass entrance, two security officers were speaking near the doors, his attention shifted back to me, “which way did you come this morning and did anyone follow you?” I frowned, “I parked across the street and I walked in alone.”

His question were beginning to feel less like concern and more like an interrogation, “why?” Soren didn't answer, I folded my arms, “tell me what's going on.”

His eyes stayed on mine, “someone knew you'd be in the archives and that is what I'm trying to find out.”

“Could Mara have told them?”

His expression changed and I noticed, “you thought about her too.” Soren looked toward the elevators, “come upstairs.” I didn't move, “I'm not going anywhere until you tell me why Mara was acting strange.”

He finally speak, "because she knows about the project,” that caught my attention, “what does that mean?” Soren looked at me slowly, “your father trusted very few people.”

There was something in his voice that made me pause, before I could ask, one of the security officers approached. “Mr. Calder.” Soren turned “we checked the archives and nothing was taken” The guard glanced at me, “there was one thing.” Soren's expression hardened, “what?”

“We found this under the table,” he held out a small object which I knew it before I even touched it, a silver key. I reached for it, my fingers shook. “This was my father's,” Soren looked at me, I turned the key over, there was a tiny engraving on the back written  17.

my father's handwriting or at least what looked like it, I hadn't seen the key in years but I remembered it suddenly, my father used to keep it in the drawer of his study, I'd once asked what it opened, he would told me it was nothing important and I had believed him until now, “where did you find it?” The security officer pointed toward the archive table, “under the chair.” I looked at Soren, “someone put it there or my father left it there.”

Soren's eyes held mine, “eight years ago?” I looked down at the key, he had a point. I remembered the photograph, my father beside Soren, June 14. eight years ago.

My fingers tightened around the key, “what if this has something to do with the photograph?” Soren's eyes changed, “what photograph?” He stepped closer and called my name, “ Nyla, show me." His brows drew together, “you just said there was a photograph, where is it, give it to me,” I watched him carefully, “ no I can't.”

The security officer shifted awkwardly and Soren noticed, “leave us.” The man nodded and walked away, the moment he was gone, Soren looked at me again, “you're making this harder than it needs to be and you don't know what you're dealing with.” That word stopped me, for the first time, Soren looked less like a man refusing to answer and more like someone who genuinely couldn't and I studied him.

His phone rang, he glanced at it, the name on the screen made his expression change, he answered. “Hello?” he listened, immediately  his eyes moved to me, “are you sure?, don't touch anything,” he ended the call.

“what happened?” I asked.

He didn't answer immediately, “someone has been inside your father's old house and the security company detected movement, ” my blood went cold, “what? My father's house has been empty for years.” I stepped closer, “who was there and how do you know?” Soren watched me hurrily, “because the alarm was triggered.” I stared at him, “what did they take?”

“Nothing," he said.

The answer came too quickly, I narrowed my eyes, “then what were they doing?”

Soren looked at me, he didn't answer, but at least I already knew my father, the project, photograph and the key, all of it was beginning to connect, but there was one thing I couldn't understand. “Why would someone break into my father's house now?” Soren's eyes stayed on mine, “because you started working here.”

The realization hit hard, I took a step back, "this started because of me.” Soren's expression became unreadable, “someone thought your father's secrets died with him now they know they didn't.” My heart hammered, I looked at the key in my palm, "what does seventeen open?”

Soren stared at it, “I don't know.” I almost laughed “you really need to stop saying that,” he didn't react. Instead, he reached into his jacket and took out his phone, he made a call, “get someone to the Avenor property.” I stared at him, “you're taking me there?”

He reacted as if he didn't want me to go, but I know I really need to because is my father's property they are talking about, “my father's house is involved, I'm going,” he looked at me somehow as if he don't want me to go, I looked back, he was already walking toward the exit and I followed. “you're coming with me?” He didn't answer, that silence was enough.

Twenty minutes later, we stopped outside my father's old house, nothing looked different from the last time I'd seen it, the same iron gate, the same overgrown garden, the same faded paint around the windows, but the front door was open. I stopped beside Soren, my pulse jumped. “I locked that door.” Soren looked at me, "when."

“After the funeral, eight years ago," I said.

His hand went to the door, "stay behind me,” I almost argued. Then I saw the expression on his face, I stayed, we stepped inside, the house smelled exactly as I remembered, dust, old wood and something else like fresh soil.

Soren stopped, he pointed toward the hallway, footprints. Someone had walked through the dust, my heart pounded, we followed them to my father's study, the room had been destroyed, drawers were open, papers covered the floor, books had been pulled from the shelves, I rushed inside, “my God.” Soren caught my arm, “don't touch anything,” I pulled free. “This was my father's desk.”

He didn't say anything, I looked at him again, that same feeling, he knew this house and knew my father and knew far more than he was telling me.

I walked toward the desk, something lay on the floor beside it, a photograph, I picked it up, my breath caught. It was the same photograph I had found in the archive. My father, Soren, June 14. But this one was different, there was writing on the back. I turned it over, my father's handwriting filled the page and only this time, it wasn't a warning but a name, Calder and beneath it:

"Ask Soren what happened that night."

I slowly looked up, Soren was standing across the room, he saw the writing, his face went completely still, “what happened that night?” He didn't answer, I took a step toward him, “Soren,” his eyes met mine and for the first time since I had met him, I saw something I had never expected to see in his face which is fear, then he said four words that changed everything,

“your father wasn't murdered.”