Within two hours, I'd rummaged through the three walls of boxes and found nothing that appeared to be related to Joseph Edwards' work or his investigation into anything concerning my father or Stone Worldwide. Turning to the middle of the storage unit, I began to look through more boxes, but these were filled with art materials like paintbrushes and sculptor's tools, along with paints, clays, and stone. Diana Edwards had been an artist like her daughter, but I suspected she wasn't a painter but a sculptor. Stainless steel tools and finished clay and stone sculptures of animals, mythological creatures, and people filled a chest that sat next to an artist's easel.
I wondered if Nina knew her mother had been an artist. That she was very much her mother's daughter. Hopefully, someday I'd get to tell her what I knew without sounding like some crazy stalker guy.
Even though I was sure I wasn't going to find anything I was looking for amongst everything in the sculpture boxes and chest, I inspected each tool and piece of sculpture the best I could without harming Diana Edwards' art. Finally, after I'd looked at every item, I saw at the bottom of the chest sat a wooden box with the initials DE carved into the top. Kneeling on the cold ground, I opened the box and found a set of stone carving chisels. Just as with the other tools, they had no identifying marks or symbols on them, other than the name of the company that made them.
I'd looked through every inch of that storage unit and found nothing. Disappointed, I sat down on the ground next to the chest and hung my head. I'd hoped that I'd be able to find some shred of evidence to give to Karl so Nina would finally be safe, but there'd been nothing. I'd failed.
Diana Edwards' chisel set box was still in my hands, and I traced the outline of her initials as I sat there feeling lost as to what I was supposed to do next. Maybe Daryl had another lead. Maybe there really was nothing to show what Nina's father had found out. I sighed from the weight of this entire thing with Karl and his insistence that there was evidence out there that could do them all in. What had begun as disgust at my father's actions had snowballed into a problem that I thought of day and night and still hadn't figured out how to solve.
As I slowly traced her initials over and over, my finger moved the lid of the box to reveal an inset that could be removed. Tipping the box over, I tapped the lid and the center came out, leaving a small compartment open where a key and a slip of paper sat. The key had no name or clue as to what it opened, but the paper had written on it one word: Fidelity.
Quickly, I typed into my phone the words fidelity and Plymouth Meeting, getting two results that might be useful. There was a First Fidelity Bank and a Fidelity Securities in that very town. Looking down at the key, I saw it had no grooves like an ordinary house key or basic lock key. It was a safe deposit box key.
Had Joseph Edwards left a key for his daughters to find something important in a safe deposit box at a nearby bank in the event of his death? I could only hope that was the answer, but since Nina and her sister were his only children, there was no way I was going to convince a bank to allow me access to the box, even if I had the key. A young kid working part time at a storage unit facility was one thing, but a bank manager was going to be harder to fool.
I stuffed the key and the paper into my pocket and called Daryl. If I could find out more information about Kim's husband, I might be able to get the bank to let me see what was in that box.
"Hey, Tristan, how was your trip to Pennsylvania?"
"Daryl, I need the name of Joseph Edwards' son-in-law. He's married to Nina's sister Kim."
"Hang on. I think I have that somewhere. Give me a minute."
As I waited for Daryl to flip through the notebook he carried with him at all times, I walked out into the sunlight, shocking my eyes after all that time in that small room full of the remnants of Diana Edwards' life. Pulling the door down, I turned to walk toward my car and prepared to drive to the closest of the two banks.
"Sorry, I knew I had it written down, but I couldn't find it. His name is Jeff Hopkins."
"Okay, thanks Daryl."
"What's up, Tristan? What are you doing?"
"I'm going to pretend to be Jeff Hopkins. I found a safe deposit key I think might help give me the answers I'm looking for."
"Whoa, before you go off and do whatever the hell you're planning to do, maybe you should know something else about him other than his wife's name. They have two kids—two girls—named Emily and Sarah. You know the guy's a lawyer, right? So if you're planning to say you're him, you need to keep this stuff in mind."
"Right. Kim's the wife, Emily and Sarah are the daughters, and he's a lawyer. How old are the kids?"
Daryl was silent for a moment. "Six and eight, I think."
"You think?" I asked as I got into the car.
"Sorry. I didn't spend a lot of time on anyone but Edwards' daughters."
"Okay, Daryl. I have a hunch I found something here. I'll let you know."
"You sure you want to do this, Tristan? I can be out there in no time and handle things. That's what you pay me for."
"No, I'm here already and I can do it. How hard can it be to pull off being a lawyer?"
Daryl laughed at my attempt at humor. "You might have to convince them not because you don't look like you could be a lawyer but because you're wearing a suit no small town lawyer could afford."
"Point taken. I'll keep it mind, just in case."
"Just remember this. People are more willing to do things for people who sweet talk them. Use some of that charm I know you have and hope you get a woman at the bank to help you. Also, pray you aren't going to a bank where they'd actually know this Jeff guy. If they do, you're probably shit out of luck."
"Thanks for the pep talk," I said sarcastically.
"All you have to remember is charm. Let me know if you need help."
I ended the call and started the car, programming the GPS to give me directions to both locations. Fidelity Securities was closest, so I put the car in gear and drove there first. I was lucky enough to have a female employee in her first month on the job wait on me, but when she saw the key she knew it wasn't from her institution. That left First Fidelity.
I could only hope I'd be lucky enough to run into another young woman like the first one.
First Fidelity Bank was just what I'd hoped it wouldn't be. A small building on the corner of Main Street and Park Avenue, it looked like a bank I had for my miniature train set when I was a boy. I parked across the street and prayed to God there would be more than two tellers and a branch manager who knew everyone in town by their first names and what teachers they'd had in high school.