Chapter seven: The basement File
595 Words
The flash drive sat on the coffee table like a bomb.
Jaxon hadn’t touched it in days, and yet it haunted him. Every time he walked past the table, his eyes caught the glint of metal, and something twisted in his chest. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t get involved. He didn’t owe Eli anything—not anymore. And yet, here he was.
It was raining outside. A low, steady rhythm that tapped at the windows like a reminder: time was running out.
He poured a drink. Sat down. Plugged the flash drive into his laptop.
The folder opened instantly. No password, no security. Almost like Eli wanted him to see it all.
Inside were four items.
1. A folder labeled “CAMILLE”
2. A grainy surveillance video clip
3. A heavily redacted police report
4. An audio file titled: “You Lied”
Jaxon’s throat tightened.
He clicked the Camille folder first. Photos spilled out—most of them old. Camille laughing on a beach, her arm around a younger Eli. Her grinning from behind the wheel of that cursed red car. He clicked through them too fast, like speed could dull the pain. But each image hit like a stone to the chest.
And then came one he didn’t recognize.
It was Camille standing on a stairwell, talking to a man in a black coat. The image was blurry, almost a still from a video. Her body language was tense. The man’s face was turned, obscured. But something about him felt familiar.
Jaxon zoomed in. The background—cinderblock walls, exposed pipes, a boiler in the corner.
A basement.
His stomach turned.
He clicked open the surveillance video. It was timestamped two weeks before the crash.
The footage was shaky, pulled from an old security feed. Camille stood in a dim hallway, arguing with someone off-frame. The audio was poor, but her voice came through just enough:
“You said this would protect him.”
A beat of silence.
Then the man: “It will. If you keep quiet.”
Jaxon froze.
He hadn’t known about any of this. She never told him. Why would she be protecting him? And from what?
He opened the police report next. It was worse than he expected. Pages blacked out. Witness names missing. Timelines that didn’t match. It was a cover-up, messy and desperate.
One note, scribbled in the margin of a page, stood out: See S. Marrow files. Suppressed.
S. Marrow. That name sounded familiar.
Jaxon clicked the last file.
A recording played. Camille’s voice.
“I know what he did. And I think Jaxon does too. If something happens to me, tell Eli. He deserves to know.”
Click.
Silence.
Jaxon sat back, heart pounding. The truth pressed down on him like a weight.
He did know. Not all of it, maybe—but enough. Enough to know he hadn’t told Eli the full story. Enough to realize Camille had died keeping his secret.
The knock at his door startled him so hard he nearly dropped the laptop.
He opened it, expecting the delivery guy or maybe a pissed-off neighbor.
But it was Eli.
Soaked from the rain, leather jacket dripping, eyes sharp and unreadable.
“You looked at it.”
It wasn’t a question.
Jaxon swallowed hard. “Yeah.”
Eli nodded once. “Then we talk. Now.”
He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, the storm outside crashing behind him like a soundtrack to everything Jaxon had been avoiding.
The past wasn’t staying buried.
And neither was the truth.
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- Writer
