Chapter 13 - THE SAFE DEPOSIT BOX
I walked out of the observation room.
Detective Mitchell followed me.
"Do you believe her?" I asked.
"I believe she was manipulated," Mitchell said carefully.
"But she's not innocent."
"She forged documents."
"She facilitated wire fraud."
"She's facing serious prison time."
I nodded numbly.
Just then, another officer approached Mitchell.
He handed her a small plastic evidence bag.
"We found this in Ethan's car," the officer said.
Mitchell held up the bag.
Inside was a small silver key.
It looked like a bank key.
"Do you recognize this?" Mitchell asked me.
I stared at it.
"No."
"We don't use safe deposit boxes."
"Ethan said they were outdated."
Mitchell's eyes narrowed.
"A man who lives a double life doesn't keep his secrets in a shoebox."
"We need to find out which bank this belongs to."
I looked closely at the key.
There were small numbers engraved on the side.
7-2-4.
Then I remembered something.
Something so small I had completely dismissed it months ago.
"Wait," I said.
"I found a pen in his laundry a few months ago."
"It had a bank logo on it."
"First Security Trust."
"It's a small branch downtown."
Mitchell immediately pulled out her phone.
"Get a warrant for First Security Trust," she ordered.
"Box 724."
An hour later, I stood in the vault of the downtown bank.
Mitchell and two other officers were with me.
The bank manager looked nervous as he unlocked the master side of the box.
Mitchell used Ethan's key for the other lock.
She pulled the long metal box out and set it on the table.
"Stand back," she told me.
She opened the lid.
I held my breath.
Inside were neat stacks of hundred-dollar bills.
Tens of thousands of dollars in cash.
But that wasn't what caught Mitchell's attention.
She reached in and pulled out a stack of passports.
Four of them.
She opened the first one.
It was Ethan's photo.
The name read: Eric Collins.
The second passport.
Michael Reed.
The third passport.
David Harper.
Then she picked up the fourth passport.
She opened it slowly.
Her face drained of color.
She didn't speak.
She just turned it around so I could see.
The photo was of Noah.
My little boy.
Smiling his bright, innocent smile.
But the name printed next to his picture wasn't Noah Lawson.
It was Leo Collins.
I collapsed into the chair behind me.
The air was completely sucked out of the vault.
He had already changed my son's identity.
The flight to Costa Rica wasn't a possibility.
It was a certainty.
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If I hadn't come home today...
My son would have ceased to exist by next Friday.
