Chapter 5 - The Rails End Here
The red light seemed to stretch on for an eternity, the sterile hum of the car's air conditioning the only sound filling the tense interior. Leo stared at his father, the pieces of a fractured puzzle violently shifting in his mind. An uncle he barely remembered, a vanished man erased from family photo albums, and now a safety deposit box at the old rail station containing a confession.
"Uncle Marcus?" Leo asked, his voice barely audible over the hum of the engine. "You told me he moved to Canada years ago."
"People like Marcus don't move to Canada," his father said, his hands gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white as the light finally turned green and the car lurched forward. "They get buried under concrete. And if we don't get to that rail station before the mayor's men do, we’re next."
They sped through the quiet streets of the suburbs, the familiar storefronts blurring past in a rush of nostalgic architecture that now felt menacing. The old rail station loomed ahead, a red-brick relic from the town's industrial past, surrounded by overgrown weeds and rusted train tracks that hadn't seen an active locomotive in over a decade.
His father pulled the sedan into the deserted gravel parking lot, killing the engine instantly. "Take the key, Leo. Go inside through the maintenance door on the side. Locker 412. Grab the manila envelope and run out the back toward the creek. Do not wait for me."
"What about you?" Leo asked, his hand trembling as he reached for the door handle.
"I’m going to buy you enough time to get out of town," his father said, pulling a heavy brass padlock from the glove compartment and tossing it onto the floor. "And Leo? If anyone asks you about the mill ledger, you tell them Sam’s father was the one who signed every single page."
Leo opened the door, stepping out into the gravel lot. The wind whipped his short hair across his forehead as he slammed the door shut. He ran toward the rusted maintenance door of the station, his sneakers crunching loudly on the stones. He slipped inside the dim, cavernous interior, the smell of dust and old iron hitting him instantly.
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He found the rows of rusted lockers against the back wall, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He located Locker 412, slid the silver key into the rusted mechanism, and turned it. The door popped open with a loud metallic squeak, revealing a thick manila envelope. But as Leo reached inside to grab it, a cold, heavy hand clamped firmly down over his shoulder.
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