PART 2 — THE SECOND DEVICE
Instead, he lifted his radio.
“Possible second device at the residence. Front entrance. Requesting additional unit and evidence team.”
The words “second device” hit me harder than anything else.
This wasn’t something Ethan had accidentally picked up.
Someone had placed one object on my nine-year-old son.
And another at our house.
“Mom?”
Ethan squeezed my hand.
I looked down.
His face had gone pale.
“Did I do something bad?”
“No.”
I knelt immediately and put my hands gently on his shoulders.
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
His eyes filled with tears.
“But the man told me not to tell you.”
Every officer in the room seemed to freeze.
I stared at Ethan.
“What man?”
He looked toward the floor again.
“The man from school.”
The officer closest to us crouched several feet away.
“Ethan, my name is Officer Ramirez. I’m not angry with you. Nobody here is angry with you.”
Ethan glanced at him nervously.
Ramirez spoke carefully.
“You said this man knew your dad?”
Ethan nodded.
“When did you meet him?”
Ethan thought for a moment.
“Tuesday.”
It was Saturday.
My stomach twisted.
“Tuesday? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“He said it was supposed to be a surprise.”
“What surprise?”
Ethan’s lips trembled.
“He said Dad left something for me.”
My breath caught.
My husband, Daniel, had died three years earlier after a sudden heart attack.
There had been no mystery surrounding his death.
No secret disappearance.
No unfinished investigation.
At least, that was what I had believed.
Daniel had been thirty-eight.
One morning, he kissed Ethan goodbye before leaving for work.
That evening, he never came home.
The hospital called me instead.
For three years, I had worked to help Ethan accept that his father was gone.
Now some stranger was using Daniel’s name to get close to our child.
“Where did you talk to him?” Ramirez asked.
“Near the soccer field.”
“Inside the school?”
Ethan shook his head.
“Outside the fence.”
My heart sank.
Our elementary school had a fenced playground and a soccer field beside the staff parking lot.
Parents waited there all the time.
A stranger could blend in easily.
“What did he look like?” Ramirez asked.
Ethan shrugged.
“Older than you.”
Despite everything, Ramirez almost smiled.
“That covers a lot of people, buddy.”
Ethan gave the smallest nervous smile.
“Did he have dark hair?”
“Gray.”
“Glasses?”
“No.”
“Beard?”
“A little.”
“Was he tall?”
Ethan nodded.
Then suddenly his expression changed.
“He had a scar.”
Ramirez straightened slightly.
“Where?”
Ethan touched his own chin.
“Here.”
Officer Ramirez looked toward the other officer.
Something passed silently between them.
I noticed it.
“What?”
Neither answered immediately.
“What is it?” I demanded.
Ramirez stood.
“Ma’am, I need you and Ethan to move away from the front entrance.”
That wasn’t an answer.
But before I could press him, another patrol vehicle pulled up outside.
Then another.
Within minutes, my quiet Saturday morning had turned into a scene from a crime show.
Neighbors stood behind curtains.
An officer stretched tape across part of my front yard.
Another photographed the object near the door.
A woman wearing gloves entered carrying an equipment case.
And through all of it, Ethan stayed glued to my side.
Finally, the black disc behind his ear was carefully removed.
It went straight into an evidence bag.
The technician studied it.
Then she looked at Ramirez.
“It’s electronic.”
My stomach turned.
“What does that mean?”
“We need to examine it properly before making conclusions,” she said.
“Is it a tracker?”
She hesitated.
“That’s one possibility.”
I looked at Ethan.
Someone might have been tracking my son.
The thought made me physically sick.
“When did he put it there?” I asked Ethan.
“I don’t know.”
“Think, sweetheart.”
He rubbed his eyes.
“The man touched my head.”
“When?”
“Tuesday.”
My pulse jumped.
“What happened?”
“He said I looked like Dad.”
Ethan paused.
“Then he hugged me.”
My stomach dropped.
That was how he had done it.
The stranger hadn’t needed to force Ethan into a car.
He hadn’t needed to threaten him.
He had simply told a grieving nine-year-old boy that he knew his dead father.
Then he hugged him.
And during that hug, he could have placed the tiny device behind his ear.
I had driven Ethan home afterward.
I had made his dinner.
I had helped him with homework.
I had kissed him goodnight.
For four days, that object had been sitting behind his ear.
I never noticed.
Marcus had.
The barber.
Suddenly, I grabbed my phone.
“I need to call him.”
“Who?” Ramirez asked.
“The barber who found it.”
Ramirez nodded.
“Put it on speaker.”
I called the shop.
Someone answered on the fourth ring.
“Riverside Barbers.”
“Hi. I need to speak to Marcus.”
There was a pause.
“Marcus?”
“Yes. He cut my son’s hair this morning.”
The pause became longer.
“Ma’am, nobody named Marcus works here.”
I stopped breathing.
Officer Ramirez’s eyes locked onto mine.
“What?”
“I said there’s no Marcus here.”
“That’s impossible. He cut my son’s hair less than an hour ago.”
The man on the phone sounded confused.
“Who is this?”
I gave him my name.
Then Ethan’s.
“Oh.”
His voice changed.
“Yes, Ethan comes here.”
“I know. We’ve been customers for two years.”
“I’m the owner.”
“Then you know who I’m talking about. The barber in the second chair.”
Silence.
Finally, he said,
“Ma’am, our second chair is rented by Luis.”
“Luis wasn’t there.”
“He called out sick this morning.”
My skin prickled.
“Then who was working at his station?”
“I don’t know.”
Ramirez stepped closer to the phone.
“This is Officer Ramirez with the police department. Sir, I need you to lock the shop and make sure nobody leaves. Officers will be there shortly.”
The owner’s voice became nervous.
“Officer, what happened?”
“We’ll explain when they arrive.”
Ramirez ended the call.
I stared at him.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“No,” he said.
“It doesn’t.”
“But I watched Marcus work there.”
“I understand.”
“He had equipment. Clippers. Scissors. Everything.”
Ramirez nodded.
“Which suggests he intended to look like he belonged there.”
A cold realization crawled through me.
Marcus hadn’t simply happened to notice the object.
He had known enough to recognize that something was wrong.
And apparently, he didn’t even work at the barbershop.
“Why would he help us?” I whispered.
Ramirez didn’t answer.
His radio crackled.
A voice came through.
“Unit Twelve, school resource officer has located relevant exterior camera footage.”
Ramirez grabbed the radio.
“Does it show the male?”
“Affirmative.”
My heart hammered.
“Can we see it?”
Ramirez hesitated.
Then nodded.
Twenty-five minutes later, we were sitting inside an interview room at the police station.
An officer had brought Ethan juice and crackers.
I barely touched the coffee someone placed in front of me.
A detective named Laura Chen entered carrying a tablet.
She sat across from us.
“Ethan, I’m going to show you a picture.”
He nodded.
“If you recognize someone, tell me. If you don’t, that’s okay too.”
She turned the tablet around.
The image was grainy but clear enough.
It showed the fence beside Ethan’s school.
Several parents stood nearby.
And near the soccer field was a tall man with gray hair.
He was leaning toward Ethan.
Even from the side, I could see the scar along his chin.
“That’s him,” Ethan whispered.
Detective Chen looked at me.
“Do you recognize him?”
I studied the image.
Something about him felt familiar.
Not his face exactly.
His posture.
The way he stood with one shoulder slightly lower than the other.
I had seen it somewhere before.
“I don’t think so.”
Chen swiped to another image.
This one was closer.
The man had turned toward the camera.
I stared at him.
Then my stomach dropped.
Because suddenly I remembered.
Three years earlier.
Daniel’s funeral.
There had been more than a hundred people there.
Family.
Friends.
Coworkers.
Neighbors.
People I barely knew.
And somewhere in the back of the church, I remembered seeing a man standing alone.
Gray hair.
Dark jacket.
Scar on his chin.
He hadn’t approached me.
He hadn’t signed the guest book.
He had simply watched.
“Oh my God.”
Chen leaned forward.
“What?”
“He was at my husband’s funeral.”
The room became completely silent.
“You’re certain?”
“I think so.”
“Did you know him?”
“No.”
“Did your husband ever mention him?”
“Not that I remember.”
Chen exchanged a glance with Ramirez.
Then she asked the question that changed everything.
“What exactly did your husband do for work?”
I frowned.
“He worked in information security.”
“For whom?”
“A private technology company.”
“What company?”
“Halcyon Systems.”
Chen stopped writing.
Ramirez looked at her.
It was subtle.
But I saw it.
“You know that company.”
Chen carefully placed her pen down.
“Your husband worked for Halcyon Systems?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Almost eight years.”
“What did he do there?”
“He never talked about details. He said most of his projects were confidential.”
Chen leaned back.
“Did your husband keep work materials at home?”
“No.”
“Computers?”
“He had a laptop.”
“What happened to it?”
“The company collected it after he died.”
“Anything else?”
I shook my head.
Then Ethan suddenly spoke.
“Dad had another computer.”
I turned toward him.
“What?”
He looked surprised by my reaction.
“The little one.”
“What little one?”
“The silver computer.”
I stared at him.
“I’ve never seen a silver computer.”
“Yes, you have.”
“No, sweetheart.”
Ethan frowned.
“Dad used it downstairs.”
My heart began beating faster.
“We don’t have a downstairs.”
He shook his head.
“Not our house.”
Detective Chen leaned forward.
“Where, Ethan?”
He thought carefully.
“Grandpa’s cabin.”
My entire body went cold.
Daniel’s father had owned a small cabin near Lake Mercer.
After Daniel’s parents died, the property passed to him.
We rarely used it.
After Daniel died, I couldn’t bring myself to go back.
The cabin had been locked for almost three years.
“Ethan,” I whispered, “when did you see Dad using a computer there?”
“Before he died.”
“How long before?”
He shrugged.
“Maybe when I was six.”
Chen stood immediately.
“Where are the keys to that cabin?”
“At home.”
“Does anyone else have them?”
“I don’t think so.”
Her phone rang before she could say anything else.
She answered.
“Chen.”
She listened.
Her expression changed.
“What time?”
Another pause.
“Send it to me.”
She hung up.
“What happened?” I asked.
Instead of answering, she opened something on her phone.
Then she turned the screen toward me.
It was security footage from the barbershop.
Timestamped 8:42 that morning.
The video showed Ethan and me entering.
Then it showed Marcus.
He was already inside.
Sitting in the empty barber chair.
Waiting.
Not cutting anyone’s hair.
Not cleaning equipment.
Just waiting.
For us.
My hands started shaking.
Then the footage jumped forward.
Marcus finished Ethan’s haircut.
He whispered to me.
Ethan and I left.
Less than thirty seconds later, Marcus grabbed a small bag from beneath the chair.
He walked out the rear door.
And disappeared.
“He knew we were coming,” I whispered.
Chen nodded.
“But how?”
Nobody answered.
Then Ethan tugged my sleeve.
“Mom?”
I turned.
“There’s something I forgot.”
Every adult in the room looked at him.
“The man at school gave me something.”
My throat tightened.
“What did he give you?”
Ethan reached toward his sneaker.
Detective Chen immediately stopped him.
“Don’t touch it.”
Ethan froze.
“Where is it?”
“In my shoe.”
An evidence technician was called in.
Wearing gloves, she carefully removed Ethan’s left sneaker.
Underneath the removable insole was a tiny folded piece of paper.
The technician unfolded it.
There were only six words written on it.
Detective Chen read them silently.
Then her face went pale.
“What does it say?” I asked.
She didn’t answer.
“Detective.”
Slowly, she turned the paper toward me.
The message said:
ASK YOUR MOTHER ABOUT ROOM 214.
I stared at the words.
Room 214.
I knew that number.
I had spent three years trying not to think about it.
Because Room 214 was the hospital room where Daniel had died.
But there was something Ethan didn’t know.
Something I had never told him.
Daniel hadn’t been alone in Room 214 the night he died.
There had been another man there.
A man whose name disappeared from the hospital visitor record before I ever thought to ask why.
And suddenly I remembered exactly what he looked like.
Gray hair.
A scar across his chin.
The same man who had approached my son.
I looked at Detective Chen.
“I know who he is.”
But before I could say his name, an officer burst through the interview-room door.
“Detective, we have a problem.”
Chen stood.
“What?”
“The cabin.”
My heart stopped.
“What about it?”
The officer looked directly at me.
“Someone entered it forty-seven minutes ago.”
I felt the blood drain from my face.
“That’s impossible.”
The cabin was nearly an hour away.
The officer shook his head.
“A security alert was triggered when the back door opened.”
Chen grabbed her jacket.
“Do we have units heading there?”
“Already moving.”
Then he hesitated.
“But that’s not the problem.”
Chen stared at him.
“What is?”
The officer lowered his voice.
“The alarm company pulled the camera feed before it went offline.”
He placed a phone on the table.
A frozen image filled the screen.
It showed the inside of Daniel’s cabin.
Someone was standing in the living room.
At first, I assumed it was the gray-haired stranger.
Then I looked closer.
It wasn’t him.
It was Marcus.
The barber.
The man who had warned me.
And in his hand was a small silver laptop.
Daniel’s laptop.
But what terrified me most wasn’t the computer.
It was what Marcus had written on the wall behind him.
Three words.
Large enough for the security camera to capture perfectly.
HE FOUND YOU.
And underneath those words was today’s date.
ART 3 — THE SECRET DANIEL LEFT BEHIND
HE FOUND YOU.
I read those three words again.
Then again.
My brain refused to accept what my eyes were seeing.
Marcus stood frozen in the security-camera image inside Daniel’s cabin, holding the silver laptop Ethan had remembered.
Behind him, written across the wall in enormous letters, were the words:
HE FOUND YOU.
And underneath them was today’s date.
“What does that mean?” I whispered.
Nobody answered.
Detective Chen picked up the phone and enlarged the image.
“Was that writing there the last time you visited the cabin?”
“No.”
“When were you last there?”
“Three years ago. A few weeks after Daniel died.”
“And you’re certain?”
“I would remember something like that.”
Chen handed the phone back to the officer.
“Contact the units heading to the cabin. Tell them nobody enters until the property is secured.”
The officer nodded and disappeared through the door.
I looked at Chen.
“You think Marcus wrote it?”
“I don’t know.”
“He’s standing right in front of it.”
“That doesn’t mean he wrote it.”
“Then what is he doing with my husband’s computer?”
Chen didn’t answer.
Ethan was sitting beside me, listening to every word.
I suddenly realized how frightened he looked.
“Sweetheart.”
I knelt beside him.
“You’re safe.”
He stared at the image of Marcus.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“That’s not the man who gave me the note.”
“I know.”
“No.”
Ethan shook his head.
“I mean Marcus knows him.”
The room went silent.
Detective Chen crouched beside him.
“How do you know that?”
“I saw them together.”
My heart lurched.
“Where?”
“Outside school.”
“When?”
“Tuesday.”
Chen immediately pulled her chair closer.
“Tell me exactly what you saw.”
Ethan swallowed.
“The gray-haired man was talking to me near the fence. Then Marcus was across the street.”
“You saw the barber?”
Ethan nodded.
“Did they speak to each other?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know they knew each other?”
“Because the gray-haired man saw him.”
“And?”
“He got scared.”
Those words changed the atmosphere in the room instantly.
“Scared how?” Chen asked.
“He stopped smiling.”
Ethan looked at me.
“Then he told me I had to go back inside.”
“What did Marcus do?”
“He just watched.”
“Did Marcus come toward you?”
“No.”
“Did the gray-haired man leave?”
“Yes.”
“Which direction?”
“Toward the parking lot.”
Chen stood.
Marcus hadn’t been waiting at the barbershop because he wanted to hurt Ethan.
Maybe he had been following the man who did.
That explained why he recognized the device.
Maybe it even explained why he didn’t want to talk inside the shop.
But it created an even bigger question.
Who was Marcus?
And why had he been watching my son before that morning?
Chen’s phone rang again.
She answered immediately.
“Chen.”
She listened.
“Understood.”
Then she looked at me.
“They reached the cabin.”
“And?”
“No one’s inside.”
“Marcus?”
“Gone.”
“The laptop?”
“Gone too.”
My stomach tightened.
“Then he stole it.”
“Possibly.”
“Possibly?”
Chen put the phone away.
“The back door was open. No vehicle was found nearby.”
“What about the writing?”
“They confirmed it’s there.”
“Can they tell when it was written?”
“Not yet.”
I stood.
“I need to know what’s happening.”
“So do I.”
“No, Detective. You don’t understand.”
My voice cracked.
“For three years, I believed my husband died from a heart attack. Today I discover that a stranger who was in his hospital room has been approaching my son, someone put an electronic device behind Ethan’s ear, another one was hidden outside my house, a fake barber somehow knew about it, and now that barber is inside my dead husband’s cabin stealing a computer I didn’t even know existed.”
Ethan looked at me.
I immediately regretted raising my voice.
Chen remained calm.
“You’re right.”
I stared at her.
“Right about what?”
“This isn’t random.”
Those three words frightened me more than anything else she had said.
Chen continued.
“Whatever is happening now appears connected to your husband.”
“Then tell me what you know about Halcyon Systems.”
She hesitated.
That hesitation was enough.
“You recognized the company name earlier.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Halcyon has worked on government cybersecurity contracts.”
I stared at her.
“Daniel never told me that.”
“He may not have been permitted to.”
“What kind of contracts?”
“I don’t have those details.”
“Then how do you know?”
“Because the company has appeared in previous investigations.”
“What investigations?”
Before she could answer, someone knocked.
Officer Ramirez entered carrying a clear evidence bag.
Inside was the tiny black disc removed from behind Ethan’s ear.
“We got a preliminary identification.”
Chen stood.
“What is it?”
“A Bluetooth tracking beacon. Modified housing. No manufacturer markings.”
My stomach twisted.
“So someone really was tracking him.”
“Most likely monitoring proximity rather than continuously transmitting his location,” Ramirez said. “We’ll know more after digital forensics.”
“And the one outside my house?”
“Same type.”
I looked at Ethan.
“Why would someone need two?”
Ramirez exchanged a glance with Chen.
She answered.
“One could help confirm when Ethan reached a particular location.”
My knees suddenly felt weak.
“You mean whoever did this wanted to know when he came home.”
“That’s one possibility.”
“Why?”
“We don’t know.”
Then Ethan whispered something.
“Maybe because of Dad’s box.”
I turned so quickly my chair scraped against the floor.
“What box?”
He looked confused.
“The box Dad told me not to open.”
I stared at him.
“What are you talking about?”
“When we went to Grandpa’s cabin.”
“Ethan, you were six.”
“I remember.”
Chen leaned forward.
“Tell us about the box.”
Ethan squeezed his hands together.
“Dad and I went walking behind the cabin.”
“Where?”
“In the woods.”
“Did he bring anything?”
“A green box.”
“What kind of box?”
“Metal.”
My pulse began racing.
“What did he do with it?”
Ethan pointed downward.
“He buried it.”
Nobody spoke.
I stared at my son.
“Why have you never told me this?”
His eyes filled with tears.
“Dad told me it was our secret.”
I felt something inside me break.
Daniel had made our six-year-old son keep a secret.
For three years.
“What exactly did he say?”
Ethan closed his eyes as though trying to remember.
“He said if something happened to him, I should wait.”
“Wait for what?”
“Until someone asked about the silver computer.”
A chill ran through me.
Detective Chen stopped writing.
“Did anyone ever ask you about it before today?”
Ethan shook his head.
“Then why did you mention it?”
“Because you asked about Dad’s computers.”
Chen looked at me.
Daniel had prepared for this.
Maybe not specifically for today.
But for something.
Something he believed might happen.
“Did your dad tell you where the box was buried?” Chen asked.
Ethan nodded.
“Can you remember?”
“I think so.”
Chen immediately reached for her phone.
But before she could call anyone, my phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
A text message.
I stared at the screen.
DO NOT LET THEM DIG UP THE BOX.
My blood turned cold.
“Detective.”
Chen looked at the phone.
Her expression hardened.
Another message arrived.
THE POLICE CANNOT PROTECT ETHAN.
Then another.
MARCUS CAN.
I stopped breathing.
“How do they have my number?”
Chen took the phone carefully.
“Don’t respond.”
A fourth message appeared.
YOU HAVE BEEN TOLD THE WRONG STORY ABOUT DANIEL.
Then a photograph loaded.
It was old.
Daniel was standing beside a car.
Next to him was Marcus.
They were younger.
Maybe five or six years younger.
But there was no question.
It was him.
The barber.
Marcus had known my husband.
On the back wall behind them was a Halcyon Systems logo.
I looked at Ethan.
Then at Chen.
“Marcus worked with Daniel.”
Chen studied the photo.
“It appears so.”
Another message arrived.
This one contained only an address.
And underneath:
COME ALONE IF YOU WANT THE TRUTH.
Chen immediately shook her head.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
But the phone buzzed again.
A photograph appeared.
This one had been taken inside my house.
My kitchen.
I recognized the fruit bowl on the counter.
The magnets on the refrigerator.
The blue coffee mug beside the sink.
The photograph had been taken that morning.
Before Ethan and I went to the barbershop.
Someone had been inside my home.
Underneath the photo was another message.
CHECK THE RED MUG.
I felt sick.
“What red mug?”
Chen asked.
I stared at the picture.
“There’s a red mug in the cabinet above the sink.”
Ramirez was already radioing officers at my house.
They searched the kitchen.
Three minutes later, Chen received the call.
Her expression became grim.
“They found something.”
“What?”
“A key.”
“A key to what?”
“We don’t know.”
But I did.
Not immediately.
Then a memory returned.
Daniel had carried a small brass key on his keychain for years.
I had always assumed it belonged to his office.
After his death, I never found it.
“What does the key look like?”
Chen showed me a photograph.
Small.
Brass.
A faded blue mark near the top.
“That was Daniel’s.”
“You’re certain?”
“Yes.”
I had seen him touch that key hundreds of times.
Whenever he was nervous, he would spin it between his fingers.
“What does it open?”
“I never knew.”
Then my phone buzzed again.
This time the message came with another photograph.
A row of storage units.
Unit 214 was circled.
Room 214.
Storage unit 214.
That number again.
Below the photograph:
DANIEL LEFT THREE THINGS.
THE COMPUTER.
THE BOX.
THE KEY.
FIND ALL THREE BEFORE HE DOES.
Chen read the message.
“Who is ‘he’?”
I already knew the answer.
“The man with the scar.”
Ethan suddenly shook his head.
“No.”
We all turned toward him.
“What?”
“That’s not what Dad called him.”
My heart pounded.
“What did Dad call him?”
Ethan looked frightened.
“The Watcher.”
Silence.
Then Ramirez’s radio exploded with a voice.
“Detective Chen, urgent update from the cabin.”
Chen grabbed it.
“Go ahead.”
“We found the burial location behind the property.”
My breath caught.
“The box?”
There was static.
Then:
“The ground has already been disturbed.”
My heart sank.
“Is it gone?”
Another burst of static.
“No.”
Everyone froze.
Chen tightened her grip on the radio.
“Repeat.”
“The box is still here.”
Relief rushed through me.
But only for a second.
Because the officer continued.
“It was dug up before we arrived.”
“Then why leave it?”
“We don’t know.”
A pause.
“But someone opened it.”
My stomach dropped.
“What was inside?”
The answer came slowly.
“Documents. Photographs. Several drives.”
Another pause.
“And a sealed envelope.”
Chen asked, “Addressed to whom?”
The radio crackled.
Then the officer answered.
“To Ethan.”
My son looked at me.
My eyes filled with tears.
Daniel had left something for him.
Three years ago.
“What does it say?” I whispered.
“They haven’t opened it.”
“Don’t.”
Everyone looked at me.
“If Daniel addressed it to Ethan, I want Ethan to open it.”
Chen nodded.
“We’ll have it brought here.”
Almost an hour later, the evidence team arrived.
The green metal box sat inside a larger protective container.
The envelope was yellowed slightly around the edges.
Across the front, in Daniel’s handwriting, were four words:
FOR ETHAN — WHEN IT STARTS.
My hands began trembling.
“When what starts?” I whispered.
Ethan looked at me.
“Can I open it?”
Chen nodded after the envelope was documented.
I helped him carefully tear the edge.
Inside was a single handwritten letter.
Ethan unfolded it.
The first line made him stop.
“What does it say?” I asked.
He handed it to me.
My vision blurred as I recognized Daniel’s handwriting.
Ethan,
If you are reading this, then someone has started looking for the silver computer.
Do not be afraid.
Your mother does not know about any of this because I wanted her protected.
There are two men you need to remember.
One will pretend to be dangerous because he is trying to keep you alive.
His name is Marcus Vale.
I stopped.
Marcus.
The barber.
My hands shook as I continued.
The other man will pretend to be your friend.
He has a scar beneath his chin.
Do not believe anything he tells you.
Do not go anywhere with him.
Do not give him the key.
And whatever happens—
do not let him learn what is stored in Unit 214.
My heart was pounding so violently I could hear it.
There was one final sentence.
A sentence Daniel had underlined twice.
If the man with the scar has found Ethan, then Halcyon knows I did not die with the secret.
Nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
Then Detective Chen’s phone rang.
She answered.
Her face changed almost immediately.
“When?”
She listened.
“Lock the building.”
My stomach tightened.
“What happened?”
Chen slowly lowered the phone.
“The man from the school footage just entered the police station.”
My blood went cold.
“What?”
“He walked through the front doors less than a minute ago.”
“Why?”
Chen looked toward Ethan.
“He says his name is Adrian Cross.”
The name meant nothing to me.
Until Chen added:
“And he says he’s here to collect his son.”
I stared at her.
“What son?”
She didn’t answer.
She didn’t have to.
Because Ethan had already gone completely pale.
And from somewhere beyond the interview-room door, a man’s voice suddenly echoed through the hallway.
“Ethan?”
My son grabbed my arm.
“That’s him.”
Footsteps approached.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Then Adrian Cross spoke again.
This time much closer.
“Ethan, your father lied to you.”
A shadow appeared beneath the interview-room door.
“And your mother has no idea who Daniel really was.”
