Chapter 3 - What the Shadows Guarded
The wedding was postponed. Lauren had made the quiet, firm decision in the church hallway, ignoring the confused whispers of the guests and Trevor’s insistence that she was letting grief cloud her judgment. Leaving Trevor at the chapel under the pretense that she needed air, Lauren drove straight back to her father's house, with Axel riding shotgun, his chin resting attentively on the console.
The old house felt colder now. The quiet held a heavy, expectant air.
Axel didn't pause in the entryway. He moved with intent, his nails clicking sharply against the hardwood floor as he marched directly down the hallway to Raymond Prescott’s study. He stopped before the brass door handle and whined softly.
Lauren retrieved the brass key hidden inside her father’s shadowbox in the living room. Her hands shook as she unlocked the door. The smell of cedar, faint tobacco, and old leather washed over her—the comforting scent of her childhood, of safety.
"Find it, boy," Lauren whispered, her voice trembling.
Axel didn't sniff the desk or the bookshelves. He walked directly to the heavy, iron-bound wooden chest sitting in the corner—the chest where Raymond kept his personal keepsakes. Axel placed his front paws onto the lid, his ears pinned forward.
Lauren knelt beside him. She turned the mechanical combination lock—her birthday, a code her father would never forget. The heavy lock clicked open.
Inside lay standard mementos: Raymond’s police academy commendations, photos of Lauren as a child, her mother’s wedding ring. But beneath the velvet lining at the bottom, Lauren felt a raised lip in the wood. A false bottom.
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She lifted the thin board. Nestled underneath was a thick black leather notebook and a USB flash drive wrapped in a plastic evidence bag. On the cover of the notebook, in her father’s neat, authoritative handwriting, was a single label: Langford Construction / Project Riverbed.
Lauren felt the air leave her lungs.
