And before Mason accused Victoria or Travis of framing him, they needed
evidence connecting actual people to the transactions.
Mason spent that night in a cheap motel.
He barely slept.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the black front door of his
childhood home.
At six the next morning, Naomi called.
She had found Arthur’s death certificate.
Arthur Reed was dead.
He had died eleven months earlier at a private hospice facility two
counties away.
The cause listed was complications from pancreatic cancer.
Mason sat on the edge of the bed until his legs went numb.
For one impossible hour, the storage unit had allowed him to imagine
another ending.
Maybe Arthur had disappeared.
Maybe he was hiding.
Maybe Victoria had lied about everything.
But she had told one truth.
His father was gone.
Naomi came to the motel.
She brought coffee Mason never drank.
Arthur had not been buried at Cedar Hill.
