Chapter 1 – Kat #2
His low laugh made me smile.
“How are you doing, kid? It’s been a minute.”
“Same old, Dad. Same old,” I answered. “Work’s still work. Everything is pretty okay.”
“Made new friends yet? Since Marielle is now a married woman, you’re definitely not seeing her as frequently as you used to.”
If only he knew Marielle and I hadn’t seen each other physically more than once in the past year.
“Hm, I’ve been hanging out with some colleagues at work.”
“Nice.”
“How are you and Mom, too?”
“Aside from missing you, we’re both fine.”
I wasn’t surprised to hear that, either. Since I moved out of their house for college, we’d only seen each other a few times—and those times were usually vacations. I was rarely at the house.
“You know I can’t just drive down there, Dad. I miss you and Mom, too. The year will end before you know it, and we’ll all meet again,” I assured.
“Have you and your mom come to a decision on where to go?”
“Mom’s still obsessed with Spain. You know her,” I revealed, chuckling. Then I remembered something important. “I’ll be going to the other side of town in a few days.”
“Oh, for what?”
“I got an eviction notice from the storage company last week.”
“Storage company?” he inquired.
“Yeah, the company in charge of the storage unit, the locker where I kept my parents’ things,” I explained.
His low “oh” spoke volumes.
My parents’ death was why he and his wife became my foster parents. Knowing how hard it was for me to deal with it then, they religiously avoided talking about my real parents, especially their sequential deaths.
While they paid for me to go into therapy, considering how young I was when I became an orphan, they never pressed me to do anything concerning my real parents. Most of my parents’ belongings, except for the furniture and other items that were discarded, were passed down to me.
Since the house was gone, one of the social services staff helped me find a storage company that offered long-term storage in container units. My foster parents were aware of the arrangement. They were also aware that I had never been to the storage unit since the first time.
“They’re taking the storage units apart to build something there,” I disclosed.
“So, you have to retrieve your parents’ things?”
I was about to answer when I heard my foster mom’s distant voice.
“Who’s retrieving what?” she questioned.
“Hey, honey. You’re back early today. It’s Kat.”
I scrunched up my face at the sound of their smooching; even virtually, they taunted me with their PDA.
“How have you been, visiting professor?” she asked.
“Hello, Mom. We spoke a few weeks ago.”
“Many months ago,” she corrected, chuckling. “What were you both talking about?”
“She has to go get her parents’ things. The space is to be occupied by some new property,” Dad explained.
“Do you want me to go with you, honey? For moral support? I could take a three-day break; it’s nothing,” she offered.
“No, no, Mom. I’ll go. I’ll probably dispose of most things there, anyway.”
“Okay, dear.”
“When are you planning to go?” Dad asked.
“Maybe next Friday, if the day’s task remains virtual as planned.”
“That way, you can do it in advance and have the day free?” Dad pointed out.
“Exactly,” I answered.
“Okay. We’re always available if you want to talk,” Mom said.
“Of course, I know, Mom,” I replied. “How’s the shop?”
“Fine. It’s always baked goods season, you know.”
“Yeah. I have to run now, else I’ll be late for work.”
“Alright, take care, dear,” Mom said.
“Call us if you need anything,” Dad added.
“I will. Bye!”
“Bye,” they replied, ending the call.
Saying it out made it sound more real and urgent: I was going to retrieve things I hadn’t seen in several years.
Was I ready to see or even touch my parents’ things? To walk down that lane?
I was anything but.
But I was left with no other choice.
***
The few days before this bright Friday morning did nothing to prepare me for this. As I unlocked the metal locker, I realized I still didn’t have the courage to look through my parents’ things, let alone sort them.
My gaze landed on the dust-coated items. I had no idea where to start.
So I picked up the nearest objects, which turned out to be framed photographs. The first one was of me grinning like a Cheshire cat in denim overalls. I didn’t remember anything about the photo, but I couldn’t have been older than six in it. The next one I flipped over made my chest tighten.
It was my dad and mom on their wedding day. In her white lace gown, my mom’s small smile didn’t look as enthusiastic as my dad’s. It certainly didn’t look like the smile of someone who loved her husband so much that she couldn’t do life for more than a few months without him.
Skipping the rest of the photographs, I proceeded to a large, unlidded box. Every single item I brought out of it evoked vivid memories in my mind, from the porcelain ballerina that used to occupy my nightstand to my mom’s leather bags.
When I lifted one of my dad’s jackets and the image of his death flashed before my eyes, I decided I’d had enough.
I opened an old shoebox. It had nothing but papers in it: envelopes, bound documents, receipts and all.
Who knows? There might be something important here.
The second envelope I pulled out gave me pause.
It had a golden crest on it. But the insignia on the crest was what sent a strange chill through me.
It looked very familiar, but at the same time, I couldn’t remember ever seeing anything like it.
There was a small device taped to the outside of the envelope.
What am I supposed to do with this?
On closer inspection, the device resembled the pagers police officers used in old action movies I’d seen.
I pressed the only button below the device. Nothing happened, except for a tiny red light that blinked repeatedly before going off.
Concluding that it was most likely one of my dad’s devices that was now faulty after all these years, I left the device and went on to open the envelope.
I unfolded the paper. It was an ownership certificate of a private holding company in Cyprus.
Sivella Holdings.
I blinked at the name on the dotted lines above the beneficiary section.
Katria Wolfe.
I was the sole beneficiary.
What exactly is this company all about?
Could it be Mafia-related?
I knew my dad was involved with the Mafia, and that was where his tragic end came from. But I had no way of knowing if the unknown company was Mafia-related or not.
Should I ask Marielle?
My best friend’s husband was a Mafia boss. It was a no-brainer that she would recognize a Mafia insignia or crest.
What does this mean for me?
I’d better find my answers when I get home.
I put the certificate back into the envelope and slipped it into my shoulder bag.
If it’s a legacy my parents left me, I won’t let it go to waste.
If it’s Mafia-related, I’m washing my hands of it.
I rummaged through the entire locker and ended up with only a handful of keepsakes—items that didn’t remind me of my dad’s death.
The rest will go to charity first thing tomorrow.
I noticed a man in a dark jacket and jeans walking a few feet behind me as I left the street. I dismissed my concerns about being followed when I got on the bus, and he was nowhere to be seen.
But my relief was short-lived.
I found three masked men waiting for me at my apartment door. My heart raced as I tried to turn around soundlessly and maybe just walk on. I wasn’t so lucky.
One of the men turned around and gave me a sardonic smile before turning to his colleagues and gesturing toward me.
I sprinted toward the fire escape, ignoring the trembling in my body.
I was halfway through when I felt a strong hand clasp my right ankle. My screams didn’t go on for long as another man covered my face with some thick cloth.
“We wouldn’t have had to do this if you didn’t activate the archives, baby,” one of the men stated, gripping my arm.
“What archive?” I asked, forgetting that my voice was too muffled to be audible.
“Your name has reappeared. You’re coming with us,” the other guy divulged.
I struggled to release myself from his grip, but he didn’t budge.
“Don’t try anything stupid. For your own good,” the first guy warned.
The looks the masked men gave me were enough to tell me what I needed to know.
I was, indeed, about to be kidnapped.
History might be repeating itself real soon.
But…how?
Oh, God.
I suddenly felt light, as if I were afloat.
And then…nothing.