Chapter 7 The Missing Piece
The Photograph
The morning after Gideon's first kiss, Nico found himself smiling at nothing.
He tried to blame it on the coffee.
It didn't work.
Every time he looked toward the front window, he remembered Gideon standing in the doorway the night before, his expression uncertain but determined. He remembered the warmth of Gideon's hand against his face and the way Gideon had kissed him as though he needed to make every decision himself.
Nico had understood what that touch meant.
For a man who guarded his body as carefully as Gideon did, reaching for someone was not a casual gesture.
It was trust.
Nico was still thinking about it when the bell above the studio door rang.
He looked up.
A familiar man stepped inside.
“Hey, Nico.”
“Daniel.”
Daniel Mercer had been coming to the studio for almost three years.
He was in his forties, worked in property restoration, and had a collection of tattoos that Nico had helped build one piece at a time.
They weren't close friends, but Daniel was the kind of regular client who eventually became familiar.
Daniel carried a flat cardboard envelope under one arm.
“What brings you in?”
“I need a favor.”
Nico smiled.
“Those are usually expensive.”
“This one isn't about a tattoo.”
Daniel placed the envelope on the counter.
“I found this while clearing out an old storage unit.”
Nico looked at it.
“What's inside?”
“Photographs.”
“That sounds harmless.”
“It isn't, apparently.”
Daniel opened the envelope and removed several old photographs.
Most were black-and-white or faded color prints. They showed construction sites, warehouses, trucks, workers standing around half-finished buildings.
Nico glanced through them.
“Where did you find these?”
“South Harbor.”
Nico stopped.
The name meant something immediately.
The old warehouse district.
The same area Gideon had mentioned.
Daniel noticed his expression.
“You know the place?”
“I've heard about it.”
Daniel nodded.
“Most people have.”
Nico looked down at the photographs again.
One showed a large warehouse surrounded by temporary fencing. Several workers stood near the entrance. Another showed a group gathered beside a loading dock.
The images were old enough that some of the faces were difficult to make out.
“What am I supposed to identify?”
Daniel pulled out another photograph.
“This one.”
He placed it in front of Nico.
It showed six men standing beside a stack of construction materials.
Nico studied the picture.
One man stood slightly apart from the others. His shirt sleeve had been rolled above his elbow.
A tattoo covered part of his upper arm.
Daniel pointed at it.
“That.”
Nico leaned closer.
“You want me to identify the tattoo?”
“I want to know if you've seen anything like it.”
Nico picked up the photograph.
At first glance, it looked like a complicated blackwork design.
Then he noticed the details.
The tattoo wasn't one solid image.
It was constructed from several elements.
A geometric frame surrounded a central symbol, but part of the design had been deliberately left open. Fine lines crossed through the darker sections, creating a pattern that looked almost like structural plans.
Nico's expression changed.
“This is unusual.”
“How?”
“The construction.”
He reached for a magnifying glass.
Daniel waited.
Nico examined the photograph more carefully.
The tattoo had been designed to follow the natural movement of the arm. The heavier black sections sat over the outer muscle, while thinner lines followed the curve toward the shoulder.
But something else caught his attention.
“See this?”
Daniel leaned over.
“What?”
“The negative space.”
Nico pointed.
“The artist didn't simply leave these areas empty. They're part of the design.”
“So?”
“So whoever made this understood how the body would move.”
Nico traced the visible outline without touching the photograph.
“The central shape would distort when the arm flexed. The open sections prevent that from turning into a black mass.”
Daniel frowned.
“You can tell all that from a picture?”
“I've been doing this for a long time.”
Nico looked again.
There was something familiar about the design.
Not the image itself.
The technique.
The tattoo had been made by someone who understood older blackwork methods, but there was a particular way the lines had been placed that Nico had seen before.
He couldn't remember where.
“Do you recognize the symbol?”
Daniel asked.
“Not exactly.”
Nico turned the photograph over.
There was writing on the back.
He read it.
South Harbor Warehouse — October 14.
His attention sharpened.
“Where did you get the date?”
“It was written on the back.”
“Do you know who these men are?”
“No.”
“Why are you asking me?”
Daniel hesitated.
“Because one of them might have been connected to the fire.”
Nico looked up.
“What fire?”
Daniel's expression told him the question had been unnecessary.
“The warehouse fire.”
Nico's fingers tightened around the photograph.
Gideon's fire.
The one he had spent years trying not to talk about.
The one that had left scars across his body and guilt buried so deeply inside him that even happiness seemed dangerous.
Nico looked back at the image.
“How do you know this person was there?”
“I don't.”
Daniel pointed at the man with the tattoo.
“But somebody who gave me the photographs said this guy worked on the project.”
“What project?”
“The warehouse renovation.”
Nico stared at the picture.
Gideon had told him the fire happened during a major renovation project. The building had been undergoing structural work, and several contractors had been involved.
Nico remembered Gideon's words.
There had been an evacuation order.
There had been people inside.
There had been confusion about who was supposed to be there.
And there had been questions afterward.
Questions that had never been answered.
“Who gave you these?”
“An old contractor I was helping.”
“Name?”
“Frank Delaney.”
Nico searched his memory.
The name meant nothing.
“Does he still have records?”
“He says most of it was thrown out years ago.”
“Most?”
Daniel nodded.
“He kept some photographs because he thought they might be useful someday.”
Nico looked again at the tattoo.
Something about it bothered him.
He had seen thousands of tattoos.
He could usually identify a style, approximate a period, sometimes even recognize the habits of a particular artist.
This one had a signature quality.
The linework was unusually precise.
The central symbol had been designed around an older industrial insignia.
Nico picked up his phone.
“I need to check something.”
He opened the browser and searched for old reports about the South Harbor warehouse fire.
Articles appeared immediately.
The fire had made the local news for weeks.
Five firefighters had entered.
Three had escaped.
One had died inside.
Another had survived with severe injuries.
Gideon.
Nico didn't need to read the name to know.
He opened an archived article.
There was an old photograph of the building.
Then a list of firefighters involved.
Nico scrolled.
Nothing about the workers.
Nothing about contractors who had been inside before the fire.
He searched the project name.
Construction companies appeared.
Several subcontractors.
Permits.
Inspection notices.
But the man in the photograph wasn't listed anywhere.
Nico looked at the photograph again.
The man was standing among workers at the warehouse.
If Daniel's information was correct, he had been part of the project.
Yet there was no record of him.
Nico felt a cold sensation settle beneath his ribs.
“That's not right.”
Daniel looked at him.
“What?”
“He isn't in the report.”
“Who?”
“The man with the tattoo.”
Nico turned the photograph toward him.
“There's no identification.”
Daniel shrugged.
“Maybe he wasn't important.”
Nico shook his head.
“He's standing with the project workers.”
“So?”
“So someone should have documented him.”
Daniel became more serious.
“You think he was involved in the fire?”
“I don't know.”
Nico looked at the picture again.
“But if he worked on the project, and the investigation was supposed to establish who had access to the building, then this is a missing piece.”
The words came naturally.
Missing piece.
Nico thought about Gideon.
He thought about the years Gideon had spent believing the fire was his fault.
He thought about the evacuation order and the questions surrounding it.
Then he looked at the tattoo.
The design suddenly seemed less like an interesting piece of body art and more like a mark left behind by someone who hadn't expected anyone to look closely.
Nico took a photograph of the photograph.
Daniel watched him.
“You're going to tell Gideon?”
Nico hesitated.
He hadn't expected Daniel to know his name.
“How do you know Gideon?”
“I don't.”
Daniel looked toward the street.
“I've seen him crossing over here.”
Nico felt warmth touch his face despite himself.
Daniel smiled.
“Don't worry. I'm not asking questions.”
“Good.”
Daniel gathered the other photographs.
“You can keep that one.”
Nico looked up.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.”
Daniel nodded toward the image.
“If you figure out who he is, let me know.”
Nico waited until the door closed behind him.
Then he looked down at the photograph again.
The tattooed man stood beside the warehouse as if nothing in the world could touch him.
Nico knew better.
Pictures could preserve moments.
They could also preserve evidence.
He opened the old fire report again.
This time, he read every name.
Every contractor.
Every listed witness.
Every person documented as having access to the building.
The tattooed man wasn't there.
Nico stared at the blank space where his name should have been.
Then he reached for his phone.
He opened Gideon's contact.
His thumb hovered over the screen.
He could call him now.
But Nico knew Gideon.
If he heard the words “warehouse fire,” he would come running before Nico could explain anything.
So instead, Nico saved the photograph and closed the report.
He would wait until Gideon was ready to hear it.
But the discovery had changed something.
The old fire might not be finished.