Chapter 24

Calla:

I slept like shit. Not the kind of sleep where you wake up tired. The kind where you never really fall asleep in the first place. Every time I closed my eyes… I saw Camden. Then Jace. Then those stupid keys. Then Dad standing in the kitchen telling me the garage would've been gone if he wanted it gone. Then Reve asking if I'd seen Jace. Round and round. By four in the morning I'd kicked the blankets onto the floor. By five I was staring at the ceiling fan. By six I gave up.

I padded across the hardwood floor in an old gray Riverside Racing tank top that had once belonged to Camden and a pair of oversized black sweatpants hanging low on my hips. My hair looked like I'd lost a fight with a hurricane. I didn't care. The condo was eerily quiet. Not a sound but the seagulls on the balcony. Good. I wasn't in the mood for another lecture before sunrise.

I shuffled into the kitchen and started the coffee maker. The familiar hiss. The gurgle. The rich smell of fresh coffee slowly filling the room. It was the closest thing I had to therapy these days. I leaned both palms against the marble countertop. Watching the dark coffee drip into the pot. One. Drop. At. A. Time. My mind refused to stop. Did I do the right thing? What if those keys were nothing? What if Jace found whatever Camden had hidden… ...and buried it? Covered it up? Destroyed it? No. Would he? I squeezed my eyes shut. God. I didn't know anymore. Two years ago I would've said absolutely. Now… I wasn't so sure.

The coffee maker beeped. Perfect timing. My phone buzzed across the counter. Reid My stomach tightened immediately. I answered before it could ring twice. "...Hello?"

"You awake?"

"Barely."

"You got coffee?"

"It just finished."

"Good." His voice sounded... different. Excited. Anxious. "He found it."

Everything inside me stopped. "...What?"

"He found where the keys went."

I straightened. "What?"

"A storage unit."

No. Way. "A storage unit?"

"Yep. Backside of Downtown. Exactly where we thought."

I gripped the edge of the counter. "...What's inside?"

"Hang on." A text notification chimed before he answered. "Jace just sent me pictures." Another buzz. Then another. Then another. "I forwarded 'em."

"I haven't looked yet."

"Do it."

The call stayed connected while I opened the messages. Three photos. I tapped the first. Rows of cardboard boxes stacked nearly to the ceiling. Old banker boxes. Every single one labeled in Camden's handwriting. Invoices. Contracts. Harbor. Construction. Construction? I frowned. The second picture loaded. A folding table covered in file folders. Receipts. Binders. Ledgers. Bank statements. None of it made any sense. Then… The third picture. My breath caught. The label on the open box read— VANCE CONSTRUCTION. I stared. No. That wasn't possible. Inside… Folders. Tax documents. Financial statements. Checks. Copies of wire transfers. All bearing my father's company logo.

"What..." My voice barely existed. "...Why would Camden have Dad's financial records?"

Reid was silent for a moment. "We don't know."

I zoomed in on one of the folders. Vance Construction. Tom Vance. My father. There had to be an explanation. Maybe Camden helped organize paperwork. Maybe Dad asked him to store old records. Maybe— No. Camden hated paperwork. He'd rather rebuild an engine blindfolded than spend an hour filing receipts. My pulse started racing.

"There's more." Reid interrupted my thoughts.

"What?"

"He said every box is organized. Really organized. Cam definitely did it."

I swallowed hard. "Anything else?"

"He hasn't gone through much yet. He wanted me to tell you..." Reid hesitated. "...actually."

"What?"

"He didn't."

I frowned. "What?"

"He doesn't know these came from you." Right. Of course.

"I forgot."

"He just said..." Reid looked down at something. "...there's enough paperwork in there to keep him busy for weeks." Weeks. I stared at the photo again. Camden hadn't been collecting random documents. He'd been building something. A case. Against who? Against Dad? No. No. Cam loved Dad. Didn't he? Didn't we all? The certainty I'd carried for years suddenly didn't feel so certain.

"Calla?"

"...Yeah?"

"You alright?"

I looked out through the kitchen windows toward the ocean. The sunrise painted the water gold. Beautiful. Peaceful. Everything looked exactly the same. But somehow… Nothing felt the same anymore. "I don't know." It was the first honest answer I'd given anyone in a long time. "I don't know what I'm looking at."

Neither of us spoke.

Finally Reid sighed. "I'll keep you posted."

"Please. 

“And Calla..." He paused. "...don't tell anybody."

"I won't."

The call ended. I remained frozen in the kitchen. Coffee forgotten. Phone still clutched in my hand. I opened the third picture again. Zoomed in further. There, tucked beneath one of the financial statements… Was Camden's handwriting. A yellow sticky note. Only three words. Follow the money. A cold chill crawled slowly down my spine. Camden hadn't accidentally stumbled onto something. He'd been investigating. And whatever he'd found… He'd hidden it. Hidden it from everyone. Including us. Including Dad. My phone screen slowly went dark in my hand. I didn't move. Because for the first time… I wasn't wondering if Jace had killed my brother. I was wondering… What my brother had died trying to uncover.