PART 5 — THE PLACE MY MOTHER SWORE SHE WOULD NEVER RETURN TO
Edward stared at my mother.
“You knew where to look?”
Mom didn’t answer immediately.
The cassette player was still sitting on the table between us.
My father’s voice had stopped, but somehow the room still felt full of him.
Thirty-one years after his death, he had just warned us not to trust the doctor treating my mother.
And now Mom was admitting she had kept another secret.
“Susan,” Edward said quietly. “Where?”
She looked at me.
“There was a house.”
“What house?”
“Your father and I owned it before you were born.”
I frowned.
“I’ve never heard about another house.”
“You weren’t supposed to.”
Edward’s expression changed.
“The lake house?”
Mom nodded.
Edward stood so quickly his chair scraped across the floor.
“Michael told me you sold it.”
“He wanted everyone to believe we had.”
Michael.
My father.
Hearing Edward say his name made everything suddenly feel more real.
“Where is it?” I asked.
Mom looked toward the hangar windows.
“About forty miles from here.”
My stomach tightened.
That explained the airport.
The diversion.
The location.
Maybe our arrival here hadn’t been random at all.
Edward seemed to have the same thought.
“Who arranged your flight?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who bought the tickets?”
“My daughter did.”
I shook my head.
“I booked them online myself.”
“Did you choose these exact seats?”
“Yes.”
“Did you pay full price?”
I hesitated.
“No.”
Mom looked at me.
“What?”
“There was a strange credit when I checked out. I thought it was airline points or some promotion.”
Edward and Mom exchanged a look.
“What?” I demanded.
Edward walked to the table and picked up the boarding pass.
“Someone wanted Susan on that aircraft.”
The realization chilled me.
The captain.
The seat assignment.
The initials.
The diversion.
Edward waiting with the box.
This hadn’t started when the rude passenger shouted at us.
That had only exposed something already in motion.
Someone had been guiding us here.
“But who?” I asked.
Edward looked at the box.
“I think we’re about to find out.”
Mom stood.
“No police.”
I stared at her.
“Mom, if someone altered your medical records—”
“No police yet.”
“Why?”
“Because your father tried to report what he found.”
Edward slowly nodded.
“And three days later, he was dead.”
That ended the argument.
Twenty minutes later, we were inside one of the black vehicles.
Edward drove.
Mom sat in the passenger seat.
I sat behind them with the wooden box on my lap.
The road became narrower as we left the airport.
Buildings disappeared.
Then neighborhoods.
Then traffic.
Eventually there were only trees.
Miles of them.
My phone lost signal.
I hated that.
“Edward.”
“Yes?”
“Who sent the cars?”
He glanced at me through the mirror.
“I did.”
“And how did you know we were landing?”
“The captain’s operations team contacted me.”
“But how did they know to contact you?”
Silence.
That question had no easy answer.
Finally Edward said, “The reservation contained instructions.”
“What instructions?”
“If Susan Miller was identified on Flight 417, the crew was supposed to contact a number.”
“Your number.”
“Yes.”
“Who put it there?”
“I don’t know.”
Mom whispered, “Michael.”
Edward looked at her.
“He’s been dead thirty-one years.”
“I know.”
“Then how?”
She shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
Another ten minutes passed before Mom suddenly pointed.
“Slow down.”
Edward reduced speed.
Ahead of us was an old road almost completely hidden by trees.
There was no sign.
No mailbox.
Nothing that suggested anyone lived there.
“Turn here.”
The tires rolled over gravel.
Branches brushed against the sides of the vehicle.
Then the trees opened.
And I saw the house.
Small.
Two stories.
Dark green shutters.
A stone chimney.
A porch facing a lake.
It looked abandoned.
But not destroyed.
Someone had been maintaining it.
The grass was too short.
The roof looked too new.
And there were fresh tire tracks in the dirt.
Edward noticed them too.
“Someone’s been here.”
Mom whispered, “That’s impossible.”
We stopped.
Nobody moved.
Then I noticed something in an upstairs window.
The curtain shifted.
“Did you see that?”
Edward immediately looked up.
“See what?”
“The curtain.”
Mom grabbed my arm.
“Stay in the car.”
“Absolutely not.”
Edward opened his door.
“Both of you wait.”
He stepped outside.
Walked slowly toward the house.
Reached the porch.
The front door was closed.
He tried the handle.
Locked.
Then he turned back.
“Do you still have the key?”
Mom stared at the house.
“Yes.”
She reached inside her purse.
From a tiny zippered compartment, she removed a brass key.
Thirty-one years.
She had carried it for thirty-one years.
We walked to the porch together.
Mom inserted the key.
It turned.
The door opened.
The smell hit me first.
Old wood.
Dust.
Cold air.
But underneath it was something else.
Coffee.
Fresh coffee.
Edward noticed it too.
“Someone was here recently.”
The living room looked frozen in another decade.
An old couch.
Bookshelves.
A fireplace.
Framed photographs.
Mom stepped inside like she was entering a grave.
Then she saw one photograph on the mantel.
She stopped.
I followed her gaze.
It was a picture of my parents.
Young.
Happy.
My father had his arm around her.
Mom was pregnant.
With me.
I picked it up.
“I’ve never seen this.”
“I thought it was gone.”
Her voice cracked.
Edward walked toward the kitchen.
“Stay together.”
We searched the downstairs.
Nobody.
Upstairs.
Nobody.
But one bedroom had clearly been used recently.
Fresh sheets.
A half-empty bottle of water.
A phone charger plugged into the wall.
“Someone is living here,” I said.
Edward looked toward the hallway.
“Or waiting here.”
Mom suddenly walked away.
“Where are you going?”
“The study.”
She moved quickly down the stairs.
At the back of the house was a small room with wood-paneled walls.
An old desk sat beneath the window.
Mom dropped to her knees beside it.
“What did Dad tell you?”
She ran her fingers underneath the desk.
“He said if anything happened, I should remember where he proposed.”
Edward frowned.
“He proposed here?”
“No.”
Mom pressed something beneath the desk.
Click.
A narrow panel in the wall opened.
I stared.
Inside was a metal compartment.
Empty.
Mom’s face collapsed.
“No.”
She reached inside.
Nothing.
“No, no, no.”
Edward crouched beside her.
“Someone found it.”
Mom shook her head frantically.
“They couldn’t.”
I noticed scratches around the compartment.
Fresh scratches.
Someone had opened it recently.
Then I saw something on the floor.
A folded piece of paper.
“Wait.”
I picked it up.
My name was written on the front.
Again.
Not Mom’s.
Mine.
I unfolded it.
There were only two lines.
You arrived sooner than I expected.
Look where your father taught you to count.
My heart started racing.
Edward read over my shoulder.
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.”
Mom did.
Her face changed instantly.
“The stairs.”
We hurried into the hallway.
There were thirteen wooden steps leading upstairs.
Mom pointed.
“When you were little, Michael used to sit with you here. He taught you numbers by counting the steps.”
A memory surfaced.
Faint.
Almost dreamlike.
My father holding my hand.
One.
Two.
Three.
I stared at the staircase.
“Which step?”
Mom whispered, “You always skipped seven.”
“Why?”
“You said seven was unlucky.”
Edward knelt beside the seventh step.
He examined the wood.
Then pulled.
Nothing.
He tried again.
The board lifted.
Beneath it was a plastic-wrapped package.
My pulse exploded.
Edward removed it.
Inside was a thick stack of documents.
And a small digital recorder.
Not thirty-one years old.
Modern.
Very modern.
Someone had placed it there recently.
Edward pressed play.
A woman’s voice filled the hallway.
“If you’re hearing this, Susan finally came back.”
Mom gripped the railing.
I didn’t recognize the voice.
Edward apparently did.
His entire expression changed.
“Impossible.”
“Who is she?”
He didn’t answer.
The recording continued.
“Michael was right about Keller. But he was wrong about one thing.”
Static.
“The foundation never stopped.”
Edward closed his eyes.
The woman continued.
“It changed names. Changed cities. Changed doctors.”
Then she said:
“And Susan was never randomly selected for treatment.”
Mom staggered backward.
I caught her.
“What does that mean?”
The recording answered.
“Keller needed access to Susan because he believed Michael gave her the original ledger.”
Edward whispered, “He’s been looking for it all these years.”
The voice continued.
“But Susan never had the ledger.”
A pause.
“Her daughter did.”
I stopped breathing.
“What?”
Mom stared at me.
Edward stared at me.
The recording continued.
“Michael hid it where nobody would search.”
My hands started trembling.
“Where?”
Then the woman said:
“Inside something his daughter would keep forever.”
My mind raced.
I had almost nothing from my father.
A few photographs.
Birthday cards.
An old baseball cap.
And—
My hand went instinctively toward my neck.
The necklace.
I had worn it for years.
A small silver locket Dad had given me shortly before he died.
Mom saw my hand.
Her eyes widened.
“No.”
I unclasped it.
Edward took the locket carefully.
He examined the edge.
“There’s a seam.”
He used a small pocketknife.
The back popped open.
Inside wasn’t a photograph.
There was a tiny folded strip of microfilm.
Mom began crying.
“Oh, Michael.”
Edward held it beneath the light.
“This could be it.”
The recording continued.
“If the ledger survived, it contains names, dates, account numbers, patient identities, and payment records.”
Then the woman’s voice became quieter.
“And one name Susan needs to see before she trusts anyone.”
We waited.
“Daniel Reeves.”
My blood turned cold.
The captain.
“No,” Mom whispered.
Edward replayed it.
Daniel Reeves.
The man who had told an entire airplane that my mother had changed his life.
The man who claimed she had paid for his flight training.
The man who helped divert our aircraft directly to Edward.
I stared at Mom.
“Was Daniel lying?”
“I don’t know.”
Edward looked disturbed.
“The story about his mother was real. I remember Patricia.”
“Then why is his name in the ledger?”
Before Edward could answer, headlights swept across the living room.
A vehicle had entered the driveway.
We froze.
Another set of headlights appeared behind it.
Then another.
Three vehicles.
Edward immediately turned off the recorder.
“Upstairs.”
Mom whispered, “Who is that?”
“I don’t know.”
We moved away from the windows.
Car doors opened outside.
One.
Two.
Three.
Then several more.
Footsteps crossed the gravel.
I clutched the locket.
A knock came at the front door.
Three slow knocks.
Nobody moved.
Then a familiar voice called from outside.
“Susan?”
My mother’s eyes widened.
I recognized the voice too.
Captain Daniel Reeves.
“Susan, I know you’re inside.”
Edward stepped toward the door.
I grabbed his sleeve.
“Wait.”
Daniel spoke again.
“You need to listen to me before you open that box.”
My heart stopped.
What box?
The wooden box was still in the car.
Edward looked toward the window.
Then Daniel said:
“Keller knows you landed.”
Mom covered her mouth.
“And if we don’t leave this house in the next five minutes, he’s going to know exactly where you are.”
Edward started toward the door.
Then the digital recorder suddenly came back to life by itself.
The woman’s voice filled the room again.
One final sentence had been recorded after several seconds of silence.
A sentence none of us had heard.
“Whatever happens, Susan…do not leave that house with Daniel Reeves.”
Edward stopped.
Outside, Daniel knocked again.
Inside, the recorder went silent.
And my mother stood between two warnings.
One telling her Daniel might be the only person who could save her.
The other telling her he might be the person she needed to fear most.
Then someone outside shattered the back window.
And a voice shouted:
“WE’RE OUT OF TIME!”
TO BE CONTINUED…
PART 6 — THE NAME HIDDEN IN THE LEDGER
The sound of breaking glass exploded through the house.
My mother screamed.
Edward grabbed her and pulled her away from the hallway.
I clutched the silver locket so tightly its edges cut into my palm.
Outside, Daniel shouted again.
“GET AWAY FROM THE WINDOWS!”
Then another voice came from the back of the house.
Not Daniel.
A man’s voice.
Calm.
Controlled.
“Mrs. Miller, nobody needs to get hurt.”
My mother stopped breathing.
I knew that voice.
I had heard it less than an hour earlier on her voicemail.
Dr. Thomas Keller.
Mom looked at me.
“He followed us.”
Edward’s face hardened.
“No. He didn’t follow you.”
“What?”
“He knew where you were going.”
Another window shattered.
Edward pulled us toward the staircase.
“Upstairs. Now.”
We ran.
Halfway up, I heard the front door shake violently.
Daniel shouted something outside.
Then came a heavy thud.
The door burst open.
I turned.
Daniel stumbled inside.
There was blood running from a cut above his eyebrow.
“Move!” he yelled.
Edward immediately stepped between him and us.
“Don’t come any closer.”
Daniel froze.
“What are you doing?”
“We heard the recording.”
Daniel’s expression changed.
“What recording?”
“The one that said not to trust you.”
Daniel stared at him.
Then at my mother.
“Susan, listen to me.”
Mom backed away.
“Why is your name in Michael’s ledger?”
Daniel went completely still.
That was all the answer Edward needed.
He lunged forward.
Daniel raised both hands.
“WAIT.”
“You lied to us.”
“I didn’t.”
“Your name is there.”
“I know.”
Silence.
Even with Keller somewhere outside, those two words seemed louder than everything else.
Mom whispered, “You knew?”
Daniel nodded.
“Yes.”
My stomach dropped.
“Then tell us why.”
Daniel looked toward the broken window.
“We don’t have time.”
Edward grabbed the front of his uniform.
“Make time.”
Daniel looked him directly in the eyes.
“My mother wasn’t only cleaning offices at that foundation.”
Edward’s grip loosened.
“What?”
Daniel continued.
“She was one of the patients.”
Mom stared at him.
“Patricia?”
“Yes.”
“She never told me.”
“She didn’t know.”
Daniel swallowed.
“They enrolled her under another name.”
The pieces began moving together.
Altered medical files.
False identities.
Patients being transferred.
People declared dead who weren’t dead.
I felt sick.
“What happened to her?” I asked.
Daniel looked at Mom.
“She became sick because of what they did.”
My mother shook her head.
“No.”
“She thought it was natural.”
Daniel’s voice broke.
“So did I.”
He looked toward the floor.
“For years.”
Edward released his shirt.
Daniel continued.
“My name wasn’t in the ledger because I worked for Keller.”
“Then why?”
“Because I was paid.”
My heart sank again.
Daniel saw my expression.
“I was nineteen. The foundation gave me what they called a family assistance payment after my mother became ill.”
“How much?”
“Enough to make sure I didn’t ask questions.”
“Did you know that?”
“Not then.”
He looked at Mom.
“The money you gave me for flight school wasn’t the only money that arrived that month.”
Mom frowned.
“What are you talking about?”
“There was another check.”
“From whom?”
“The foundation.”
Edward whispered, “A settlement.”
Daniel nodded.
“Except nobody called it that.”
He took a breath.
“I discovered the truth twelve years later.”
“How?”
“After my mother died, I found her old medical records.”
Daniel’s eyes filled.
“There were two sets.”
My mother covered her mouth.
“One said she had received standard treatment.”
“And the other?”
Daniel’s jaw tightened.
“The other listed procedures she never consented to.”
Nobody spoke.
Then footsteps sounded downstairs.
Daniel immediately looked toward the hallway.
“They’re inside.”
Edward pulled us into an upstairs bedroom.
He locked the door.
“What do they want?”
Daniel pointed at my hand.
“The locket.”
I instinctively closed my fist around it.
“How do you know?”
“Because Keller has been searching for Michael’s ledger for thirty-one years.”
“Why didn’t he know Dad gave it to me?”
“Because Michael told everyone he destroyed it.”
Mom whispered, “Except Keller never believed him.”
Daniel nodded.
A floorboard creaked downstairs.
Then Keller’s voice floated upward.
“Susan.”
My mother trembled.
“You’ve spent six months trusting me.”
Another step.
“I helped you.”
Daniel whispered, “Don’t answer.”
Keller continued.
“I know what they’ve told you.”
Mom’s eyes filled with tears.
Then Keller said:
“And I know what Michael wrote.”
Edward went pale.
“How could he know that?”
Daniel shook his head.
Keller climbed another step.
“You think Michael was protecting you, Susan.”
Pause.
“He wasn’t.”
My mother looked toward the door.
“What does that mean?” I whispered.
Keller answered as though he had heard me.
“Ask Edward.”
Everyone looked at Edward.
He froze.
Daniel whispered, “What is he talking about?”
Edward said nothing.
“Edward?”
My voice sharpened.
“What did my father do?”
Keller laughed softly from the hallway.
“That’s the problem with family secrets.”
Another step.
“Eventually everyone runs out of places to hide them.”
Edward lowered his head.
My mother stared at him.
“What haven’t you told us?”
Edward looked devastated.
“Michael didn’t discover the foundation by accident.”
“What?”
“He helped create its accounting system.”
My mother stepped backward.
“No.”
“He didn’t know what it would become.”
“You told me he was investigating it.”
“He was.”
“But he worked for them.”
“Yes.”
The room seemed to tilt.
Daniel stared at Edward.
“How deeply?”
“Deep enough that Keller could implicate him.”
My mother shook her head repeatedly.
“Michael would never hurt patients.”
“He didn’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because when he realized what was happening, he tried to destroy the program.”
Keller’s voice came from directly outside the bedroom.
“That’s a beautiful version, Edward.”
Everyone froze.
The doorknob slowly turned.
Locked.
Keller continued.
“Would you like me to tell them the real one?”
Daniel positioned himself beside the door.
Edward grabbed an old wooden chair.
My mother clutched my arm.
Keller spoke calmly.
“Michael Sterling wasn’t a hero.”
My mother shouted:
“SHUT UP!”
Silence.
Then Keller laughed.
“There she is.”
Mom was shaking with rage now.
“You stay away from my daughter.”
“Give me the locket.”
“No.”
“Susan.”
“No.”
Keller’s voice became colder.
“You don’t understand what you’re protecting.”
I looked down at the locket.
“What’s actually on this?”
Edward answered.
“Evidence.”
Keller responded from outside.
“No.”
Pause.
“It’s a list.”
Daniel frowned.
“A list of what?”
Keller said:
“People.”
“That’s what a ledger is.”
“Not those people.”
The doorknob stopped moving.
Then Keller said:
“Those are the patients who survived.”
My mother looked at Daniel.
He looked equally confused.
Keller continued.
“Seventeen people whose identities were changed.”
My heart hammered.
“Why?”
“Because they saw things they weren’t supposed to see.”
I thought about the letter.
Seventeen names.
Susan Miller had been number fourteen.
I looked at Mom.
“You weren’t just in the medical records.”
She shook her head.
“I don’t remember any of this.”
Keller answered:
“Of course you don’t.”
Mom went still.
“What did you do to her?”
I shouted.
Keller didn’t respond immediately.
Then:
“I saved her life.”
Daniel’s face twisted with disgust.
“You altered her records.”
“Yes.”
“You’ve been treating her for six months.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Keller’s voice softened.
“Because Susan came back to me.”
Mom looked horrified.
“I didn’t know you.”
“Yes, Susan.”
“You were referred to me.”
“By whom?”
Silence.
Then Keller said:
“Your husband.”
Nobody moved.
My mother’s voice became tiny.
“My husband has been dead for thirty-one years.”
“That’s what you were told.”
Every person in that bedroom froze.
I felt my knees weaken.
“No.”
Mom grabbed the bedpost.
Edward whispered:
“Keller is lying.”
“Am I?”
Keller sounded almost amused.
“Then perhaps you should ask Edward why Michael’s body was never identified by Susan.”
I looked at Mom.
She stared at Edward.
“Mom?”
She whispered:
“They wouldn’t let me see him.”
My blood went cold.
“Why?”
“They said the accident…”
Her voice cracked.
“They said there was too much damage.”
Edward stepped forward.
“Susan, don’t listen.”
She turned on him.
“Did you see Michael’s body?”
Edward said nothing.
“EDWARD.”
“No.”
The room went silent.
Keller spoke through the door.
“Thirty-one years, Susan.”
Then he said:
“And you never once wondered why there was a closed casket?”
My mother collapsed onto the edge of the bed.
I knelt beside her.
“Mom.”
She couldn’t look at me.
I turned toward Edward.
“Was my father really in that car?”
“I don’t know.”
“You told us he died.”
“I believed he did.”
“BELIEVED?”
Daniel interrupted.
“Keller is trying to divide us.”
Keller laughed outside.
“Captain Reeves.”
Daniel’s face hardened.
“I wondered when you’d start pretending to be the good guy.”
Daniel moved closer to the door.
“You destroyed my mother.”
“No, Captain.”
Keller paused.
“Your mother volunteered.”
Daniel froze.
“That’s a lie.”
“Is it?”
Keller continued.
“You found two medical files.”
“Yes.”
“But you never found her consent form.”
Daniel’s expression changed.
“Because you destroyed it.”
“No.”
“Then where is it?”
“With Michael.”
Another silence.
Everything kept coming back to my father.
A man who had supposedly been dead most of my life.
I looked at the microfilm.
There had to be more than a ledger on it.
“Can we read this somehow?”
Edward nodded slowly.
“The study had an old film viewer.”
Daniel looked toward the door.
“We’d have to get downstairs.”
Suddenly, blue light flashed across the bedroom wall.
Then another.
Police.
Keller stopped talking.
Daniel looked through the window.
“Three patrol cars.”
Edward exhaled.
“Thank God.”
But Daniel didn’t look relieved.
“Wait.”
“What?”
He stared outside.
“They’re not local police.”
“How do you know?”
“The markings.”
Edward joined him at the window.
His face fell.
“Oh, no.”
Keller called through the door:
“Now you understand.”
Daniel turned.
“What?”
Keller answered:
“I didn’t come alone.”
Heavy footsteps entered the house downstairs.
Multiple people.
A commanding voice shouted:
“FEDERAL AGENTS! NOBODY MOVE!”
My mother looked at me.
I almost felt relieved.
Then Edward whispered:
“No.”
I looked at him.
“What now?”
He pointed toward the digital recorder.
“Play the rest.”
I grabbed it.
There were multiple audio files.
We had only heard the first.
I selected the second.
The mysterious woman’s voice returned.
“If Keller reaches the house, he will probably bring people claiming to be federal agents.”
My stomach dropped.
“Do not surrender the ledger.”
Outside, someone pounded on the front door.
“FEDERAL AGENTS!”
The recording continued.
“Some of them are legitimate.”
Edward frowned.
“Some?”
“And some have protected the foundation for more than thirty years.”
Daniel looked at me.
“How do we know which?”
The recording answered.
“There is only one person Michael trusted.”
Static.
“If she is still alive, ask for Agent Rebecca Shaw.”
Edward’s mouth dropped open.
“Rebecca?”
Mom stared at him.
“You know her?”
Edward looked toward the window.
“She investigated Michael’s death.”
I stopped the recording.
“Then call her.”
“I don’t have her number.”
A voice suddenly came from downstairs.
A woman.
“EDWARD STERLING!”
Edward went rigid.
The voice shouted again.
“IF YOU’RE UP THERE, DO NOT GIVE KELLER ANYTHING!”
Edward rushed to the bedroom door.
“Rebecca?”
A gunshot exploded downstairs.
Mom screamed.
Then another.
Daniel shoved us against the wall.
Glass shattered.
People shouted.
Footsteps thundered through the house.
Then everything became silent.
Terrifyingly silent.
A woman called from downstairs.
“Edward?”
He leaned toward the door.
“Rebecca?”
“Yes.”
He reached for the lock.
Daniel grabbed his wrist.
“Wait.”
The woman downstairs said:
“Michael told me you’d hesitate.”
Edward froze.
My heart stopped.
Mom stood slowly.
“What did she say?”
The woman repeated:
“Michael told me you’d hesitate.”
Mom walked toward the door.
“Ask her when.”
Edward swallowed.
“When did Michael tell you that?”
Silence.
Then the woman downstairs answered:
“Yesterday.”
Nobody breathed.
My mother grabbed my hand so hard it hurt.
Edward looked like he had seen a ghost.
Daniel whispered:
“That’s impossible.”
Then the woman downstairs said the words that shattered everything we thought we knew.
“Susan, your husband is alive.”
Mom made a sound I had never heard from another human being.
Half sob.
Half gasp.
I caught her before she fell.
The woman continued:
“And if you want to see Michael again, we need to leave before Keller realizes where we’re taking you.”
I stared at the bedroom door.
Thirty-one years.
Thirty-one years believing my father was dead.
Thirty-one years of a closed casket.
A hidden letter.
A secret ledger.
A brother who disappeared.
A doctor who had returned to my mother’s life.
And now a federal agent was standing downstairs claiming my father had spoken to her yesterday.
Mom looked at me through tears.
“What if it’s true?”
Before I could answer, my phone vibrated.
One bar of signal had returned.
A message appeared from an unknown number.
There was no text.
Only a photograph.
I opened it.
And nearly dropped the phone.
An elderly man was sitting beside a newspaper.
The newspaper’s date was today.
His hair was gray.
His face was older.
But I knew those eyes.
I had seen them in photographs my entire childhood.
My father.
Alive.
And in his hands was a handwritten sign.
DON’T TRUST REBECCA.
Then a second message appeared.
SHE IS THE REASON I NEVER CAME HOME.
I slowly raised my eyes toward the bedroom door.
Rebecca was waiting downstairs.
Keller was somewhere inside the house.
Daniel’s name was in the ledger.
Edward had hidden part of the truth.
And somewhere out there, the father I had mourned for thirty-one years might still be alive.
But now I understood the most terrifying part.
The mystery was no longer whether my father had survived.
It was figuring out which person in that house had spent thirty-one years making sure he could never come home.
TO BE CONTINUED…
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