Emily had never met Richard Mercer, but she knew his face from the framed photograph in Frank's office.
Richard had been a respected businessman, a donor to local charities, and a former executive at Whitcomb Transport. When he died five years earlier, the newspaper described him as a generous community leader.
Now Emily was looking at a photograph of Richard standing beside her father.
Thomas noticed her reaction.
"You recognize him."
"That's Frank's father."
Thomas nodded slowly.
"Yes."
Frank stepped toward the table.
"Where did you get that photograph?"
Thomas didn't answer immediately.
"Your father took it at the depot in 1997."
Frank's face hardened.
"My father passed away. Leave him out of this."
Emily turned toward her manager.
"You knew my father worked with yours?"
Frank avoided her eyes.
"I know a lot of people worked at that company."
"Why didn't you ever tell me?"
"Because it has nothing to do with your job."
Thomas carefully placed the photograph on the table.
"It might have everything to do with her father's death."
Frank's expression changed so suddenly that Emily felt a chill unrelated to the weather.
"You're going to leave," he said.
Walter stood.
"We will when Thomas is ready."
"No. You're leaving now."
Frank pulled out his cellphone and called someone.
Emily could hear only fragments of the conversation.
"Two old men... old company records... yes, Whitcomb."
Thomas closed his eyes.
Walter leaned toward him.
"Perhaps we should have come another way."
"No," Thomas replied. "We've waited long enough."
Emily stared at them.
"What exactly are you trying to tell me?"
Thomas opened the satchel again.
Inside were a folded letter, a small silver coin, and a sealed envelope bearing her mother's handwriting.
Emily recognized the writing instantly.
Her mother had died fourteen years earlier.
Thomas placed the envelope on the table.
"She asked me to give you this when it was safe."
Emily whispered, "Safe from whom?"
Thomas looked toward Frank.
"From the people who destroyed your father's name."