Chapter 5 The Key and the Lie

Ava's Point Of View

The elevator creaks down the stairs, and with each floor you pass it seems like a beat of the heart. The farther away it goes the colder the air is.

I shouldn’t be here. Every part of me knows that. But my little silver key in my pocket stings like a vow of happiness--or a curse.

Storage 11B.

The ground floor reeks of dust and metal. The storage units with the locked doors are stretched into the shadows in rows, and their numbers are becoming blurred on rusted plates. The lights whine feebly, flickering after every few seconds.

I found the one I’m looking for — 11B.

I shake my hand at the moment too much to fit the key in. I can see my breath fogging in the cold air.

“Just do it,” I whisper to myself.

The key clicks.

It is paper and time that pervades the air inside. There are piles of boxes and each is labeled with a black marker: Legal Records, Finance, Personnel Files. But there is a box standing out, a lot of dust on its lid. The scribbles on it in tattered ink: Accident Records.

My pulse stutters. I pull it out, on my knees on the concrete floor, and open it. Within it, folders, images, old police reports, insurance claims. I browse through them, glancing at the pages.

I see a picture and everything in me paralyzes.

One of the cars, battered up against a guardrail. Shattered glass. Blood on asphalt.

It is not the car that I remember in the news. The notch on the front bumper - it is on the other side. The license number--one number different.

My fingers squeeze the photo till it folds. It isn’t Liam’s car. That night someone else was driving.

My stomach turns cold. The air feels thinner. I was in error all this time--all this time, all the sleepless nights, all the revenge plans.

Why would Liam admit he did not do it?

Why take the blame?

I root around, trying to find anything in the papers--anything--that will make sense. One corner of the report carries the name written down.

Noah Hart.

My heartbeat stumbles. And I heard the same name I heard called on the call of Liam.

I look into it, and the letters become blurred. Brother. I can hear the word ringing in my ears, empty and painful.

Then silence is broken by a voice. And you should not be here, Eva. My body goes rigid.

The photo slips from my hand.

I turn slowly.

There is a man lurking at the doorway whose dark light is gleaming at his belt buckle. He is a long, thin fellow with a blade smile. His hair is a little dishevelled, of a darker colour than Liam's, and his eyes a colder grey. He comes into the fore, his hands in his pockets, a silky voice. It bites, you see, he says to himself. “The past.”

My pulse races. “Who are you?”

He smirks. “I think you already know.”

The air thickens between us.

“Noah Hart.” The utterances scarcely come out of my throat.

“Smart girl.” He smiles, but he has no warmth in his smile. “Or should I say… Ava Montgomery?”

My breath catches.

He begins by saying my name as a hidden name he has long been waiting to say.

I stand aside, striking the side of the metal shelf at the back of me. “How—how do you know that name?”

Oh, please, he says, turning his head. You believe you can stroll into the company of my brother with your false identity and no one is going to notice? He is perhaps blind to you, but I am not.

Blind. The term is painful, bitter and unfamiliar.

He approaches, and the footsteps of his shoes can be heard on the concrete. You have been playing a dangerous game, Ava. Breaking into his office, taking his key, digging up his files, which are not yours.

I was entitled to know the truth, I snap, which, nevertheless, I tremble at. “Liam killed my brother—”

“Did he?” Noah cuts in smoothly. The question cuts in the air, then I freeze.

His eyes are drawn in and his voice becomes a whisper. “You really think Liam did it? He simply had a drunk night and struck Ethan Montgomery? That he has confessed because he was guilty?

My throat tightens. “He confessed. The police—”

He laughs, low and bitter. The police believed what he was telling them. It is what can happen when you are wealthy and you are known as Hart. You may have the truth to suit you.

I look at him in a bid to comprehend. “If he didn’t do it, then who—”

Noah smiles, once more, and there is something chilling in it. Perhaps you ought to question yourself as to why he would defend someone who did not deserve to be defended.

The fragments begin to move in my head.

The hidden photos. The donations in Ethan’s name. The phone call.

“No,” I whisper. “No, that can’t be—”

He comes still nearer, his breath caressing my face. “You want the truth?”

I nod, even as fear claws at me.

“Then come with me,” he murmurs. Before Liam discovers what you have done.

He reaches for my arm. His grip is firm, unyielding.

Release me, I hiss, in an attempt to shake off.

But his hand only tightens. “You don’t get it, do you? It is not just you who is keeping secrets here. My brother--he was lying to you, to everybody. You do not know what happened that very night.

I put my head in a shake, and lean against the shelves. “Why should I trust you?”

Noah makes a closer approach, nearly whispering. Since, Ava, I killed your brother.

The world tilts. The air vanishes.

He smiles somewhat to my silence, with a kind and mean tone. And Liam has been paying it all along.

My knees almost give out. I am screaming in my mind, no, no, it is not the case, but the expression he has makes it clear.

There is a flash before I can utter so much as a word, before I can even stir, and the lights overhead drop. Darkness swallows the room.

“Noah—”

Shh, he whispers somewhere close to my ear. You see, we do not want to disturb the dead.

I trip and fall, and my heart goes wild, feeling my way in the dark. It is dust and rain dripping through the concrete and the air is dirty.

Someone hands me through,--too quick, too hot. I pull away but once more he holds my wrist.

“Let me go!”

Not till I tell you, he said.

We hear a crash of something striking behind us--a metal shelf, which fell and the sound was loud enough to startle me.

Noah! Noah, come here! It calls out another voice in the hallway. Deep. Familiar.

Liam.

My breath catches.

The flashlight cuts the darkness and shines the light on the face of Noah, and you can see in a moment that the smirk vanished, and something took its place.

He says, You see, I guess we are out of time.

And before I can do anything he pulls me out to the back door.

The beam of the torch is wildly swinging, and the silver key is caught and the flashlight falls on the floor with a metallic clink.

“Eva!” The voice of Liam is even nearer, and angry--or afraid.

The fingers of Noah close on my arm in agony. “You’ll thank me later,” he says.

And then the door goes shut and the light is taken away and I am in darkness once more.