by Tia Souders
Abby froze as understanding soaked into her veins. With a flourish of movement, she whipped around in her seat and snatched the large shoebox from the floor—the one that held all their clues—in search of the key.
“IT’S A STORAGE UNIT,” she whispered.
Abby gripped the key, her eyes glued to the tiny block script that read “Safekeep” on the top. Her breathing came in short, shallow puffs as they made their way back through town to the monotonous voice of her GPS.
Her hands shook as she clenched it in her hand and glanced over at Kaden who had taken the wheel and offered to drive when her stomach filled with too many nerves to press the gas pedal.
“This is it,” she said. “I can feel it. This is the key to everything.”
Kaden focused on the road, his expression placid, whether from nerves or fear or a combination of both, she wasn’t sure. If it weren’t for the frantic beat of her pulse as they pulled into a gravel lot of the giant steel building, she would’ve laughed at his stony expression.
He parked in front of the squat building and took a deep breath. “You ready?”
Abby nodded, then shook her head, unsure of herself. Staring out at the aluminum units, her mind reeled with possibility. Was she truly ready for whatever may be inside?
Reaching out, Kaden placed two fingers under her chin, gently guiding her gaze away from the building to him. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m not good at this. At feeling things, and I don’t know...” She paused and bit the inside of her cheek, trying to sort through the thoughts volleying in her head like a wild game of tennis.
“What if I find something horrible? Like that I’m adopted? Or that my father isn’t really my father? Or that GG discovered my grandfather had cheated on her years ago? Or...or...”
Abigail’s gaze shifted around her car, searching for questions and answers. “What if my grandfather was a drug dealer all these years or she—”
“Stop. Breathe,” Kaden said, coaxing her with a soothing voice. He slid his hands down to her shoulders and squeezed.
Abby inhaled, pulling oxygen into her lungs and focused on the tenor of his voice.
“Good. Now exhale,” he coached. “Breathe. Relax.”
Abby listened. With every breath, the rubber bands constricting her lungs loosened.
When she shot him a grateful smile, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead, then moved south, kissing the tip of her nose, followed by her mouth, trailing fire in his wake.
“Most of those things wouldn’t explain the clues we have. I don’t know what’s in there,” he said, gesturing toward the storage building, “but whatever it is, you can handle it. We’ll figure it out, and it’ll be okay. Got it?”
Abby grit her teeth, unsure.
“But if you don’t want to do this, if you’ve changed your mind, we can leave. Right now. We can drive back to your house or go see a movie or grab some lunch, but you need to put this behind you if that’s your choice. Either we go in or we don’t, and you stop hunting.”
“I don’t think I can stop,” Abby murmured. “And if I flunk all my classes, my parents are going to kill me. Forgetting this isn’t an option when I can’t even focus enough to get through a day with this hanging over my head.”
“Then you know what you need to do.”
He squeezed her hands, and she nodded. She could do this.
“I got this,” she said, then before she could change her mind, she swung her door open and headed toward the building with the key clenched inside her fist.
ABBY POUNDED A FIST against the aluminum siding, then cursed.
“Ouch!” She dropped her hand and winced at the sharp pain in her knuckles while Kaden snickered.
“We’ve gone through two-thirds of these stupid units. There’s only a couple left! What if we don’t find it? What if we’re wrong, and the key isn’t to one of these?” She stepped back as Kaden snatched the keys from her hand, then tried another unit with no luck.
Abigail threw her arms up, her frustration mounting. She leaned back against the cool metal and crossed them over her chest. “We’ve spent over half the day in this middle-of-nowhere town, and so far, we’ve found nothing. We’re the worst.”
The building shuddered against her back.
“You were saying?” Kaden said, his voice edged with excitement.
Abigail pushed off the side of the building, staring at Kaden as he grinned, crouched down, and pushed the huge rolling door the rest of the way up.
“Bingo,” he murmured, peering into the cavernous room.
“Oh my gosh.” Abby stepped inside, her mouth gaping.
Boxes sat on the dusty concrete floor, piled knee-high, along with a couple pieces of miscellaneous furniture and an old bicycle.
Abby moved to the back of the unit and wrinkled her nose at the musty scent of mildew. Turning, she took in the cluttered contents of the small space while the soft melody of a bird along with the swooshing sound of passing cars soothed her mounting nerves.
Next to her, Kaden whipped a drop cloth off an old chair. A plume of dust billowed off the old fabric, causing him to cough. “Well, it definitely looks like this stuff has been here a while.”
Abby bounced on her toes, eyeing the boxes and ignoring the fluttering wings in her chest. Nodding, she said, “There’s a lot to go through. Let’s get started.”
Twenty minutes later, she slumped in her spot on the grimy floor. “I’ve got nothing. You find anything yet?” she asked Kaden in a toneless voice.
“Nope. Just a bunch of junk—some toys, an old VHS player, kitchen stuff, receipts in one box, and old bills, but that’s it. What I did see from the paperwork confirms this storage unit was used by your grandparents since their name is on some of this stuff.”
“Yeah, same.” Abby fidgeted with the pile of old books in front of her. “There’s got to be something in here. I mean, why bury the key if there wasn’t something one of them didn’t want people to have access to? If my grandfather found a clue, something to lead him to the truth and put it here, I could understand him keeping a secret. But at what length? Burying the key is a little excessive, unless there’s something absolutely jaw-dropping. Same goes for my grandmother. She said she didn’t even have enough evidence to out the secret. But maybe she hid what little she did have here? Gah! I wish we knew what we were looking for.”
Kaden glanced over at her, his mouth a firm line. “I know, but old people do weird stuff. My grandmother has a detached garage, and she’s convinced people are going to go in there and steal her stuff. All she has is an old mower that doesn’t even work, a radio, and some rusted out plyers, but she locks that garage up every night. And every time she goes in there for something, she’s convinced something new has been stolen.”
“There’s something here though. I can feel it.”
Her gaze surveyed the unit with fresh eyes, stopping on a dark object in the corner of the unit, surrounded by boxes and ancient stereo equipment. Lifting herself off the floor, she dusted the grime off her pants and picked her way through the boxes toward the object. She squinted at the item, still unsure of what it was with the mass surrounding it. An old rocking horse, a giant duffle bag, and what appeared to be an old set of dry-rotted drapes hid it from view.
“Hey, help me move this stuff,” she said.
Kaden came to her side and pushed some of the junk out of the way, so she could remove the old stereo equipment. Once they had a hole in front of the object cleared, Abby readied herself. She stood in front of it, her shoulders squared and jaw set, and lifted the yellow drop cloth.
Her stomach clenched as she stared.
“A chest,” she whispered.
Something ominous about it pricked her nerves. She needn’t be an expert to know the chest was old. Very old. The large oak trunk was stained a dark walnut and covered in metal details and carvings with casters on the bottom and huge metal hinges along the back of the lid. There was no lock.
Her fingers tingled with anticipation as she placed them under the lip of the lid. With a deep breath, the chest creaked, mingling with the hum in her veins as she lifted.
A moment passed as she drank in the contents staring back at her, then gasped. Stumbling back, her heart hammered her chest, a bone-shattering rhythm.
Next to her, Kaden stepped closer. “Holy. Crap.”
Raising a shaking hand toward the chest, she reached inside.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Abby’s hand trembled, fluttering over the grey-green fabric. Folded with the utmost care, the uniform jacket lay below a matching cap. A black band roped the hat, with a silver skull pin and eagle above it, wings spread, mid-flight.
Several medallions adorned the thick material of the coat, including a black cross at the neck and a pin—another eagle—but at his feet hung a round medallion adorned with a symbol Abigail knew well. Even if not for her family’s heritage, she would’ve known the symbol anywhere. Most would.
A chill crept up her spine. She blinked to clear her vision, but the contents remained the same. The uniform decorated with black swastikas on both the pin and on the bright red armband over the sleeve stared up at her.
“Do you think it’s real?” Kaden asked, his tone disbelieving. “I’ve never seen anything like this. Not in real life. Maybe in a museum.”
Abby tried to speak but couldn’t find her voice. Her stomach clenched as the possibilities ran through her head.
She read about WWII in history books, had learned about it in school, and her family had spoken of it over the years, considering their connection to the Holocaust. But she had never seen anything like this in person.
Her hands trembled as she reached out and picked up the uniform, almost afraid to touch it, like it might bite or the evil it represented might somehow soak into her veins. Setting it aside, she revealed a handful of books, the covers tattered and worn, revealing years of use, including a copy of Mein Kampf, Adolf Hitler’s name emblazoned across the cover.
Swallowing, she shoved them aside to uncover a mass of yellowed documents, along with several photographs. Her pulse pounded in the silence of the storage unit, so loud she thought Kaden might hear it.
She lifted one of the black and white snapshots. Though the photo was grainy, there was no doubting the man in the center of the photograph she held.
The image shook like a leaf in her hand as she held it up.
“Is that...” Kaden asked, staring.
“Hitler,” she whispered as though she was afraid even the reference might somehow conjure him. His dark eyes stared at her from the old piece of litmus, reaching into her soul.
She dropped it, then turned to Kaden. “Wh-wh-what is this stuff doing in here? Why would they have it?”
She shook her head, trying to understand.
Kaden got to his feet, running both his hands through the sides of his hair and grasping it by the roots like it might provide the answers. “Your father was a victim of the war. Maybe he somehow acquired this memorabilia and—”
“And what? This would be a huge discovery for anyone.”
She lifted the uniform, chucking it from the chest onto the ground, then took a handful of papers in her clenched fists, crumpling them and sending them scattering to the floor.
“My grandmother volunteered at the Holocaust Museum. She devoted herself to that place, donated her time, money, all because of my grandpa’s past. If she had this... If she knew about it, she would’ve donated it all. The historical significance of it is huge, so why is it still here? Locked away? Hidden?”
She gripped her hair by the roots. She didn’t like this. Not at all.
Kaden stepped forward, his hands outstretched, pleading with her to calm down.
“All good points. But it’s not like it’s illegal to keep this kind of stuff. It stands to reason your grandfather would want this. It’s a part of his past and his history, albeit a difficult one, but that’s why these things aren’t sitting in his living room on display.”
His gaze fell to the papers at Abigail’s feet. He bent over and picked one up, a furrow in his brow. His eyes widened, and he raised his gaze to hers. “Abby...”
He turned the paper to her, concern flickering through his eyes as she bent her head to read.
“Irma Mentz,” she murmured.
“The name from the financial documents in your grandmother’s file.”
She had no idea what this meant, but nothing felt good about it. Whatever they were looking for was huge, and for the first time, Abby feared the secret.
“We can’t take this with us. In case my grandfather comes back, but I can take photos.” Removing her phone from her pocket, Abby stood and began the arduous task of snapping pictures of each item as her fingers shook.
“Do you think this is what Lawson thought was his big break? Finding this stuff?” she asked, as she worked. “I’m sure he could auction it off, and it’s kinda crazy, surprising, but he couldn’t possibly make enough off this to get rich.”
“I don’t know, but these are official documents of the Nazi party.” Kaden swallowed. “From the looks of it, Irma Mentz was a German officer, a Nazi.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Without a doubt, GG would’ve handed this all over to the museum. I know she would’ve. So, the question is, why did my grandfather have it? Why did he keep it from her? And why did Lawson think this was such a huge discovery, enough to change their lives?”
Kaden exhaled. “We know the German officers’ name was also on the financial paperwork for property your grandfather owns. We know your grandpa was a Jew, a survivor. This Irma guy was an officer, and they clearly have had some sort of relationship or some sort of connection we’re not getting and...” When his gaze snapped back up to Abigail, a band tightened around her chest.
“And?” she asked.
He stepped forward, an excited gleam in his eyes. “After the war, they started prosecuting soldiers with direct involvement in the camps, right? But a lot of them ran. What if somehow your grandfather discovered this guy was still alive? What if, years later, he confronted Irma Mentz.”
Abigail frowned. “So?”
“What if he blackmailed him? To keep him quiet.” Kaden’s gaze fell back over the papers. He picked another up off the ground as his eyes searched. “This would all be proof of Mentz’s identity, and your grandfather kept it. Safe-keeping to hang over his head because if he could prove who Mentz was, he’d surely be deported back to Germany and stand trial. There have been war criminals in as recent as the past ten years that have been convicted, and if convicted, they’d be sentenced to death for their crimes.”
“You think Mentz bought my grandfather that property as a bribe? That he might have given him money?” Abigail asked, peering at the documents in Kaden’s hand.
“I think it’s a possibility. Abby, what did your grandfather do for a living? How did your family get their money?”
Abigail shifted on her feet, uncomfortable with a conversation regarding her family’s wealth after the one they had the other day about Kaden’s. “Well, both my parents are real estate lawyers, but...”
She bit her lip, thinking about her grandparents and what she had been told. “A couple years after the war, they were able to recoup my grandfather’s home, some of his familial possessions. His father had owned his own accounting firm in Krakow, so they had money. My grandfather sold everything before he came to America, then once he settled here in the states and learned English, he opened his own business.”
Kaden straightened. “I wonder if that’s common? Jews recouping their wealth after the war?” Kaden rubbed his brow. “It seems...unlikely.”
Abby turned back to the chest, her spine stiffening. There was no need to get defensive. He was trying to help, and it was the best theory they had yet. Even if he was right, and her grandfather did accept a bribe to keep quiet, it was far less a crime than whatever atrocities someone like Irma Ment
z committed during the war.
“It’s possible,” Abby said, her voice weak. “But why would he do that after everything he went through? Wouldn’t he want to turn him in? To get revenge? Seek justice?”
“Maybe this was his revenge. Maybe he thought living a life having something that big hanging it over his head and taking his money was worse than dying. Sometimes, there’s mercy in death.”
Abby bit her lip. “Maybe.”
“Look, I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but maybe it’s time to ask whether you grandfather really got his money from his family or somewhere else.” Kaden reached out, touching her arm.
The trill of her phone filled the space between them, the ringtone echoing in the unit. She jumped and pulled her cell out of her pocket, hating the relief she felt at the interruption.
When she checked the screen, she noted the unfamiliar number before recognition clicked. Adrenaline fueled her as she pressed a hand to her chest, trying to slow the frantic beat of her heart as she glanced up at Kaden. “It’s Anna Gutman.”
Swiping the answer button on the screen, she brought the phone to her ear.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“Hello?” Abby waited for a beat as the person on the other line remained silent, wondering if they would say anything at all.
“I only returned your call to let you know I have no interest in speaking with you again, so please stop calling,” Anna said.
“Wait!” Abigail stuttered. “Please. I just need a minute of your time. My grandmother died a couple of weeks ago, and I’m trying to make sense of some things.” Her pulse soared as she scrambled for the right words to keep the woman on the phone. “I know she was trying to find some long-lost relatives of my grandfather’s, and I believe she thought you might be related. Either that, or you may know someone who is, I’m not sure.”
