Chapter 11 - The Pawn Shop Receipt Surfaces
“Where is my father’s trunk, Ryan?” I asked, my voice cutting through his frantic weeping.
Ryan froze, his eyes darting sideways as he realized the trap he had dug for himself.
“I... I don't know what you’re talking about!” he lied, his voice cracking with rising panic.
Marcus raised his hand slightly, and two burly private security guards stepped through the open front door.
They hauled Ryan up by his tailored lapels, forcing him to stand upright against his will.
“Search his pockets,” Marcus commanded coldly.
The lead security operative slid his hand into Ryan’s jacket pocket, pulling out a small, crumpled piece of paper.
May you like
He handed the slip to Marcus, who glanced at it before passing it directly to me.
It was a pawn shop receipt dated three days ago, listing my father’s antique leather trunk and childhood journals.
