Chapter 7: The Storage Unit at Nine
The officers wouldn't let us go to the storage facility alone.
I understood why.
I understood that a frightened mother charging into an unfamiliar building could put herself, her son, and the investigation at risk.
But understanding didn't make waiting any easier.
At 4:18 p.m., an investigator arrived at the hospital to examine the torn document Nathan had recovered from his belongings.
He photographed both sides, asked Nathan to explain where he'd found it, and carefully recorded every detail he remembered about the warehouse.
Then he made a call.
He didn't tell us whom he was calling, but his expression changed as he listened.
"Understood," he said finally.
"We'll coordinate.""
When he hung up, I stood.
"Are you going to the storage facility?""
"We're checking the information now.""
"That's not what I asked.""
He looked at Denise, who had been standing beside the bed with her arms folded tightly across her chest.
"Mrs. Carter, I know you want your son home. So do we. But we need to establish whether the address is current and whether the information on this document is reliable.""
"It's his handwriting," Denise said, pointing toward the fragment.
"The destination may be genuine. The time may not be. We have to consider the possibility that the people involved have changed their plans.""
I looked at the clock.
Four thirty.
Nine o'clock felt impossibly far away.
"What can we do?""
"Help us understand the people involved. Any names, vehicles, businesses, or previous locations your sons mentioned could be useful.""
I returned to Nathan's bedside.
He had been listening silently.
"Sweetheart, did Cole ever mention a storage facility before?""
Nathan shook his head.
"Not that I remember.""
"Did you see anyone loading anything into vehicles?""
He hesitated.
"Sometimes.""
"What kind of things?""
"Boxes. Equipment. Bags.""
"Did you know what was inside?""
"No.""
He looked at the fragment in the investigator's hand.
"But last Saturday, I heard Mr. Voss arguing with someone about a delivery.""
"What did they say?""
Nathan rubbed his injured fingers together.
"The other man wanted Cole moved before the weekend ended. Mr. Voss said there were problems with the records.""
"What records?""
"I don't know. I was cleaning the office corridor. The door was open.""
He took a breath.
"Then the other man said they couldn't afford another mistake because somebody had started asking questions.""
The investigator wrote that down.
"Did you recognize the other man's voice?""
Nathan shook his head.
"Had you seen him before?""
"Once, maybe twice. He wore a dark jacket. He never worked with us.""
"Could you identify him?""
Nathan looked uncertain.
"I think so.""
The investigator thanked him and stepped outside to make another call.
Denise sat beside her son's bed.
"Cole always wanted to fix things himself," she whispered.
Nathan looked at her.
"He thought if he worked hard enough, they'd let us go.""
Her eyes filled with tears.
"He was always like that. Even when he was little, he'd take the blame if someone else was in trouble.""
Nathan nodded.
"He kept saying we'd get home together.""
Denise reached for his hand.
"And you will.""
He looked at her with an expression that made my chest ache.
"I don't know if he's still there.""
"Then we'll find out.""
For the first time, Denise sounded less like a frightened mother and more like someone who had decided she wasn't going to be frightened into silence anymore.
At 5:06 p.m., the investigator returned.
The storage facility was real.
The address corresponded to a commercial property divided into several units, some rented to local businesses and others listed under company names that required further checking.
The investigators were coordinating with the relevant authorities to establish who controlled the units and whether there was evidence connecting the property to the warehouse.
They wouldn't confirm whether Cole was there.
They wouldn't promise that anyone would be found.
But they were moving.
It was more than we had known that morning.
I should have felt relieved.
Instead, I felt sick with anticipation.
At 6:20 p.m., Nathan asked for his phone.
The nurse returned it after checking that it was safe to do so.
He opened his messages and stared at the screen.
Most of the conversations were ordinary.
School assignments.
Memes.
A reminder about a test.
Then he opened the thread with Cole.
There were hundreds of messages.
Some were from months earlier, filled with jokes and plans for summer vacation.
Others were from the past eight weekends.
The first few were reassuring.
Made it. See you tomorrow.
Don't forget your hoodie.
Tell your mom we're getting pizza.
Then the messages became shorter.
You there?
Can't talk.
They took my phone.
Don't come looking.
The last message from Cole had arrived the previous Saturday.
If I don't see you tomorrow, remember the blue door.
I leaned closer.
"What does that mean?""
Nathan stared at the words.
"I don't know.""
"You've never seen a blue door at the warehouse?""
He shook his head.
"Not that I remember.""
He scrolled farther back, searching through the conversation.
Then he stopped.
A photograph appeared on the screen.
It showed the boys standing beside a large blue metal door, both wearing work clothes.
Behind them, a white vehicle was partially visible.
Nathan enlarged the image.
"I've seen that door.""
"Where?""
He studied the background.
"At the storage place, I think.""
My heart began pounding.
"You're sure?""
"No. But look at the floor.""
I examined the photograph.
There was a distinctive yellow stripe running across the concrete.
Nathan said the same stripe had been painted across the loading area at the warehouse.
"Can you send this to the investigator?""
Nathan forwarded the photograph.
A few minutes later, the investigator returned and examined it carefully.
He asked Nathan to identify the boys and describe the circumstances in which the photograph had been taken.
Then he asked whether either boy had been permitted to keep a copy.
Nathan shook his head.
"Cole took it before they started collecting our phones.""
The investigator looked at the image again.
"This could be useful.""
He left with the photograph's details.
At 7:31 p.m., Denise received a call from an unfamiliar number.
She answered before I could stop her.
"Hello?""
A man's voice spoke.
She turned pale.
Then she put the call on speaker.
"Mrs. Carter," the man said.
"I'm calling because I understand you've been asking questions about your son.""
Denise gripped the phone.
"Where is Cole?""
"I think it would be best if everyone calmed down.""
"Where is my son?""
There was a pause.
"He's involved in a situation that has become unnecessarily complicated.""
I felt my stomach turn.
"Who are you?"" I demanded.
The man ignored me.
"Your son made certain agreements. Those agreements need to be honored.""
Denise's voice trembled with fury.
"He's sixteen years old.""
"Old enough to understand consequences.""
"He's a child!""
The man sighed.
"You're making this worse for him.""
Denise looked at me, tears streaming down her face.
"Let him come home.""
"That depends on how cooperative everyone becomes.""
The call ended.
For several seconds, Denise couldn't move.
Then she handed the phone to the investigator, who had returned to the room after receiving a notification.
He examined the call details and asked us not to answer any further calls from unknown numbers.
"Does that voice sound familiar?"" he asked Nathan.
Nathan had heard enough through the speaker to understand what had happened.
He stared at the phone.
Then he shook his head.
"No.""
The investigator nodded and stepped outside.
At 8:15 p.m., the hospital called to say Nathan's condition had improved enough for him to rest more comfortably, though he still needed monitoring.
He asked whether he could speak to Denise privately.
She leaned close to him.
"What is it, sweetheart?""
Nathan took a long breath.
"If they find Cole, don't let him think you blame him.""
Denise began crying again.
"Why would I blame him?""
"Because he was the one who found the job.""
"He was trying to help you both.""
"I know.""
Nathan's voice cracked.
"But sometimes I get angry with him.""
He stared at his hands.
"Then I feel horrible because I know he's still there, and I'm not.""
Denise brushed the hair away from his forehead.
"Listen to me. You are not responsible for what those people did to you. Neither is Cole.""
Nathan closed his eyes.
"I should've come home sooner.""
"You did come home.""
She kissed his forehead.
"And we're going to bring your friend home, too.""
At 8:42 p.m., the investigator received an update.
Several officers were preparing to approach the storage facility.
The address on the document had been confirmed as an active commercial property, and investigators had identified a connection between a business associated with the site and the industrial area Nathan described.
They still couldn't guarantee Cole was there.
But they had enough reason to act.
I stood beside the hospital window, looking out at the darkening sky.
Denise came to stand beside me.
"What if we find him and he doesn't want to come home?""
I turned toward her.
"Why wouldn't he?""
"Because he's been living with this for eight weeks. Because he might be ashamed. Because he might think he's responsible.""
I thought of Nathan apologizing every time he described what had happened.
I thought of the way he had tried to hide his injuries.
"Then we'll remind them both that they're our children.""
At 8:57 p.m., the investigator's phone rang.
He listened without speaking.
Then he asked, "Are you certain?""
Another pause.
"Understood. Proceed carefully.""
He ended the call.
I rushed toward him.
"What happened?""
He looked at us.
"The team has reached the facility.""
Denise grabbed my arm.
"Is Cole there?""
"We don't know yet.""
He began walking toward the corridor, speaking quietly into his phone.
I watched him go.
Then I looked at Nathan, who was staring at us from his hospital bed.
"Mom?""
I crossed the room.
"They're there, sweetheart.""
He closed his eyes.
For the first time since returning home, he looked as though he might allow himself to hope.
Then his phone vibrated.
A new message had appeared from an unknown number.
Nathan opened it.
His face went white.
May you like
He turned the screen toward me.
*YOU SHOULD HAVE LEFT YOUR FRIEND WHERE HE WAS. NOW BOTH OF YOU WILL PAY.*
