PART 7 — MY FATHER HAD BEEN ALIVE FOR THIRTY-ONE YEARS
I stared at the photograph until the screen blurred through my tears.
My father.
Older.
Gray-haired.
Thirty-one years older than the man in every photograph I had ever known.
But it was him.
I knew it before my mother even looked.
Some faces live inside you.
You don’t need proof.
You don’t need DNA.
You don’t need someone else to confirm what your heart recognizes.
I turned the phone toward Mom.
She looked at the picture.
And collapsed.
“Mom!”
Daniel caught her before her head hit the floor.
She didn’t faint.
That almost made it worse.
She remained conscious, staring at the screen as tears streamed silently down her face.
“Michael.”
She reached toward the photograph with trembling fingers.
“Michael…”
Edward crouched beside her.
His own eyes were wet.
“My God.”
Then Mom saw the handwritten sign.
DON’T TRUST REBECCA.
Her expression changed.
Downstairs, the woman called again.
“Susan?”
Nobody answered.
“Susan, we have to move.”
Mom slowly stood.
She wiped her face.
Then whispered:
“Nobody opens that door.”
Daniel nodded.
Edward didn’t.
He was staring at the photograph.
“Edward?”
He looked up.
“What?”
“You recognize where Dad is?”
His eyes returned to the screen.
Behind my father was a plain wall.
A table.
A newspaper.
Nothing obvious.
Then Edward zoomed in.
“There.”
He pointed toward the edge of the photograph.
A small blue-and-white ceramic lamp was barely visible.
“So?”
Edward’s breathing changed.
“I bought that lamp.”
“When?”
“Thirty-four years ago.”
Mom stared at him.
“For Michael’s cabin?”
Edward nodded.
“What cabin?”
I asked.
Neither answered immediately.
Then Mom whispered:
“Your father had a hunting cabin in Vermont.”
My pulse jumped.
“Is that where he is?”
“I don’t know.”
Edward shook his head.
“The cabin burned down.”
“When?”
“The year after Michael died.”
The sentence sounded absurd now.
Michael hadn’t died.
Edward hadn’t died.
Every death in this family seemed to have been built from paperwork and ashes.
I looked at the message again.
“Maybe the cabin didn’t burn.”
A floorboard creaked outside the bedroom.
Daniel raised one finger to his lips.
Someone was coming upstairs.
Slowly.
One step.
Then another.
Rebecca’s voice came from the hallway.
“Susan, I’m alone.”
Mom’s face hardened.
“Stay outside.”
Rebecca stopped.
“You received something, didn’t you?”
I looked at Daniel.
How could she know?
Mom answered carefully.
“Why would you think that?”
“Because Michael has been trying to reach you for two days.”
My heart hammered.
“You’ve spoken to him?” I shouted.
Silence.
Then Rebecca answered.
“Yes.”
Mom pressed both hands against the door.
“When?”
“Yesterday morning.”
“Where is he?”
“I can’t tell you through a door.”
“You can tell me exactly where my husband is.”
“Susan—”
“THIRTY-ONE YEARS.”
My mother’s voice cracked so violently that everyone went silent.
“You do not get to stand outside this room and tell me what you can and cannot tell me.”
Rebecca said nothing.
Mom continued.
“I buried an empty coffin.”
Her voice broke.
“I raised our daughter without him.”
She pressed a hand against her chest.
“I spent thirty-one years believing the man I loved died without saying goodbye.”
I had never seen my mother like this.
Not weak.
Not sick.
Furious.
“So you are going to tell me where Michael is.”
Rebecca finally answered.
“I don’t know.”
Mom laughed bitterly.
“You just said you spoke to him yesterday.”
“By phone.”
“From where?”
“An encrypted line.”
“Why?”
“Because Michael still believes someone is hunting him.”
Edward stepped toward the door.
“He’s right.”
Rebecca paused.
“Edward?”
“Yes.”
“I’m glad you’re alive.”
He almost laughed.
“I could say the same.”
Then Rebecca said something strange.
“I never believed the accident.”
Edward’s face changed.
“You investigated it.”
“Yes.”
“You signed the report.”
“I signed what I was ordered to sign.”
Silence.
Daniel looked at Edward.
Rebecca continued.
“That was the moment I realized how deep this went.”
Edward whispered:
“Then why didn’t you contact me?”
“I tried.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“I sent three messages.”
“I never received them.”
“Then someone intercepted them.”
Daniel whispered, “Or she’s lying.”
Rebecca apparently heard him.
“Captain Reeves is with you.”
Daniel didn’t respond.
“I know you’re there, Daniel.”
He stepped toward the door.
“How?”
“Because I arranged Susan’s seat.”
Everything stopped.
I stared at the door.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“You put the code on Mom’s boarding pass?”
“Yes.”
“You arranged for Daniel to recognize her?”
“No.”
I looked at him.
Daniel looked genuinely surprised.
Rebecca continued.
“I knew Daniel was piloting the flight. I knew his history with Susan. I hoped he would recognize her, but I couldn’t guarantee it.”
“Why bring Mom here?”
“Because Michael asked me to.”
My mother covered her mouth.
“What?”
“Two days ago, Michael contacted me for the first time in eleven years.”
Edward looked stunned.
“Eleven?”
Rebecca continued.
“He said Susan was in danger.”
Mom looked at me.
“Because of Keller?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t Michael call me?”
Rebecca hesitated.
“Because he believed your phone was monitored.”
My stomach tightened.
“And now?”
“Now whoever is monitoring you already knows you’re here.”
A heavy sound came from downstairs.
Then Keller shouted:
“Rebecca!”
She immediately stopped speaking.
Keller continued:
“You’re making the same mistake you made thirty-one years ago.”
Rebecca shouted back:
“The only mistake I made was believing you!”
Edward whispered, “They know each other.”
Mom looked at him.
“They worked together?”
“No.”
Rebecca answered from outside.
“We did.”
Daniel frowned.
“What?”
Rebecca’s voice became quieter.
“Keller and I joined the federal task force the same year.”
I stared at Mom.
“Dr. Keller was a federal agent?”
Keller laughed from downstairs.
“Was.”
Rebecca continued:
“He was assigned to investigate the foundation.”
Edward’s face changed.
“And instead?”
“He protected it.”
Keller shouted:
“Careful, Rebecca.”
She ignored him.
“He buried evidence. Intimidated witnesses. Altered reports.”
Keller’s voice hardened.
“And who signed those reports with me?”
Rebecca went silent.
Mom whispered:
“Oh my God.”
Neither of them was clean.
I looked down at the locket in my hand.
The microfilm.
Maybe that was the only thing we could trust.
“Edward, the viewer.”
He nodded.
“We need to get downstairs.”
Daniel pointed toward the window.
“We don’t.”
He opened the closet.
Inside were old boxes.
Blankets.
And a narrow folding ladder leading toward an attic hatch.
“What are you thinking?”
“Old houses sometimes have secondary attic access.”
Edward understood immediately.
“The roof.”
Daniel nodded.
“If we can reach the back porch from outside, we can get into the study without using the main staircase.”
Mom stared at him.
“I’m not climbing across a roof.”
“You’re not.”
He looked at me.
“We are.”
Five minutes later, Daniel and I were crawling through an attic that smelled like dust and cedar.
My heart was pounding.
Not because of the height.
Because my father might be alive.
Every answer seemed to create three more questions.
Why hadn’t he come home?
Why had he contacted Rebecca?
Why was he warning us not to trust her?
And why had someone waited until my mother became sick to bring all of us back together?
Daniel found a small attic window.
He pushed it open.
Cold air rushed inside.
Below us was the porch roof.
“You ready?”
“No.”
“Good answer.”
He climbed out first.
I followed.
We moved slowly along the roof until we reached another window.
The study.
Daniel tested it.
Unlocked.
We climbed inside.
The old film viewer sat on a shelf.
Edward had been right.
I removed the microfilm from the locket.
My hands were trembling so badly Daniel had to help me load it.
“You okay?”
“No.”
He nodded.
“Me neither.”
I switched on the viewer.
Light filled the screen.
Rows of tiny documents appeared.
Names.
Dates.
Numbers.
Medical codes.
Payments.
We moved through them.
Then I saw:
REEVES, PATRICIA
Daniel stopped breathing.
Below her name:
STATUS: PARTICIPANT 06
COMPENSATION TO FAMILY: $18,500
Daniel gripped the table.
“That’s the payment.”
I looked at him.
“I’m sorry.”
He didn’t answer.
I moved forward.
More names.
Then:
MILLER, SUSAN
My stomach twisted.
Mom had been right.
Her name was there.
But beside it:
STATUS: WITNESS — NOT PARTICIPANT
Daniel leaned closer.
“Witness to what?”
I advanced the film.
A scanned report appeared.
The first sentence changed everything.
On October 14, Susan Miller witnessed unauthorized administration of Trial Compound 7 to Patient 06, Patricia Reeves.
Daniel made a broken sound.
“Mom.”
I covered my mouth.
Susan had witnessed what happened to Patricia.
But she didn’t remember.
The next paragraph explained why.
Recommendation: memory suppression protocol.
I stared.
“What does that mean?”
Daniel looked sick.
“I don’t know.”
The next line:
Authorization requested from T.K.
Thomas Keller.
Daniel slammed his fist against the desk.
“That bastard.”
“Keep your voice down.”
I advanced the film.
Then another name appeared.
STERLING, MICHAEL
My father.
STATUS: FINANCIAL OFFICER / INTERNAL COOPERATING WITNESS
Cooperating witness.
Edward had told the truth.
Dad had helped build the accounting system.
But later he had become a whistleblower.
Below his name was another notation:
PROTECTIVE EXTRACTION APPROVED.
I froze.
“Extraction?”
Daniel read over my shoulder.
“Witness protection?”
Maybe.
Then I saw the date.
Two days before my father supposedly died.
The next document was an order.
SUBJECT M.S. TO BE RELOCATED IMMEDIATELY. FAMILY NOT TO BE INFORMED UNTIL INTERNAL LEAK IDENTIFIED.
My heart started pounding.
“My father didn’t abandon us.”
Daniel looked at me.
“No.”
“He was taken.”
“Yes.”
“But thirty-one years?”
Daniel didn’t answer.
I moved to the next page.
There were signatures.
One belonged to Rebecca Shaw.
My stomach dropped.
Rebecca had authorized my father’s disappearance.
“That’s why he said not to trust her.”
Then I saw another signature.
My hand froze on the viewer.
Daniel leaned closer.
“No.”
The second authorization wasn’t Keller.
It wasn’t Edward.
It wasn’t anyone we had discussed.
It was:
SUSAN MILLER.
I stopped breathing.
My mother had signed the order that removed my father from our lives.
“No.”
Daniel stared at the screen.
“There has to be an explanation.”
“She knew.”
My voice cracked.
“She knew Dad was alive.”
“Maybe not.”
“Her signature is right there.”
“Signatures can be forged.”
I wanted to believe him.
Then the next scanned page appeared.
A handwritten statement.
My mother’s handwriting.
I understand that Michael Sterling must disappear immediately and that our daughter must be told he is deceased.
My knees weakened.
Daniel caught my arm.
I kept reading.
I understand that I may never see my husband again.
Tears blurred the screen.
Then the final sentence:
I agree because keeping our daughter alive matters more than keeping our family together.
I stepped backward.
Everything inside me broke.
Mom knew.
She had known.
For thirty-one years.
Then someone behind us whispered:
“She didn’t remember signing it.”
Daniel and I spun around.
Rebecca Shaw stood in the doorway.
Her hands were visible.
No weapon.
She was in her late sixties, with short gray hair and a scar near her jaw.
Daniel moved between us.
“How did you get in here?”
“There’s another entrance.”
I pointed at the screen.
“She signed it.”
Rebecca nodded.
“Yes.”
“She knew Dad survived.”
“For approximately six hours.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
Rebecca stepped closer.
“Keller erased the rest.”
Daniel’s expression darkened.
“What did he do?”
Rebecca looked at the report.
“The memory suppression protocol wasn’t experimental therapy.”
Her eyes met mine.
“It was a combination of drugs, psychological conditioning, and deliberate trauma.”
I felt sick.
“You made my mother forget her husband was alive?”
“No.”
“Keller did.”
“And you let him?”
Rebecca didn’t defend herself.
“I failed to stop him.”
Downstairs, something crashed.
Rebecca looked toward the door.
“We need to move.”
“No.”
I stood in front of her.
“I’m done moving until somebody tells me everything.”
She looked at me.
Then she nodded.
“Your father uncovered the program. Keller discovered Michael was cooperating with us. We arranged a staged death to get him out.”
“Why not take Mom and me?”
“Because someone inside our task force leaked the extraction plan.”
“Who?”
“We didn’t know.”
“So you left us?”
“We believed keeping you outside the operation made you safer.”
“And Mom?”
“Keller reached her before we could.”
Daniel asked:
“What happened?”
Rebecca looked toward the film viewer.
“Susan had seen Patricia Reeves being given an unauthorized compound. Keller knew she could testify.”
Daniel’s jaw tightened.
“So he drugged her.”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t Michael come home later?”
Rebecca’s expression changed.
“Because Keller sent Michael evidence that you and Susan would be killed if he returned.”
I stared at her.
“For thirty-one years?”
“Michael tried twice.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
“The first time was when you were nine.”
A strange childhood memory flashed through me.
A man standing across the street from my school.
A gray baseball cap.
Mom pulling me into the car.
I had forgotten it.
“The second?”
“When you graduated college.”
I remembered Mom becoming suddenly ill the morning of graduation.
We had left the ceremony early.
Rebecca continued.
“Both times, someone knew Michael was coming.”
Daniel whispered:
“The leak.”
“Yes.”
“Who was it?”
Rebecca looked directly at me.
“We finally discovered that yesterday.”
I stepped closer.
“Who?”
Before she could answer, the study door slammed shut.
Keller stood there.
He wasn’t holding a gun.
He was holding my mother.
One arm around her shoulders.
A syringe pressed against her neck.
My blood turned to ice.
“Mom.”
Her eyes were terrified.
Keller smiled.
“Everybody has been telling stories about me.”
Daniel moved forward.
“Let her go.”
“Stay where you are.”
Rebecca stared at the syringe.
“What is that?”
Keller smiled.
“You know exactly what it is.”
Rebecca went pale.
“Thomas, don’t.”
Mom whispered:
“What will it do?”
Nobody answered.
Keller looked at me.
“The locket.”
I closed my fist.
“No.”
He pressed the needle against Mom’s skin.
She gasped.
“Give me the microfilm.”
I looked at Daniel.
He shook his head almost imperceptibly.
Keller pressed harder.
A tiny drop of blood appeared on Mom’s neck.
“Three seconds.”
I reached toward the viewer.
“One.”
I removed the microfilm.
“Two.”
“STOP.”
I held it up.
Keller smiled.
“Bring it to me.”
I took one step.
Then Rebecca said:
“Before you do, there’s something you should know.”
Keller’s eyes moved toward her.
Rebecca continued.
“We found the leak.”
His smile faded.
Daniel looked at her.
“Who?”
Rebecca didn’t look at Keller.
She looked at my mother.
“Susan.”
Mom stared at her.
“What?”
Rebecca shook her head.
“Not you.”
Then she looked at me.
“The leak was someone Michael trusted more than anyone.”
My stomach tightened.
Edward appeared behind Keller at the end of the hallway.
Rebecca saw him.
And her expression became devastated.
“Edward.”
He stopped.
Keller smiled again.
Edward said nothing.
Mom looked between them.
“No.”
Rebecca whispered:
“Edward was the one who told Keller every time Michael tried to come home.”
My mother shook her head.
“No. Edward protected us.”
Rebecca reached into her coat and removed a folded document.
“We found thirty-one years of payments.”
Edward’s face became unreadable.
I looked at him.
“Tell me she’s lying.”
He didn’t.
“Edward.”
Silence.
Then my father’s brother slowly closed his eyes.
And said:
“I never meant for any of this to happen.”
My mother made a broken sound.
Keller laughed.
But Edward wasn’t looking at him.
He was looking at me.
“There’s one thing Rebecca still doesn’t know.”
Rebecca stiffened.
Edward reached into his coat.
Daniel moved instantly.
“Hands where I can see them.”
Edward slowly pulled out a phone.
He placed it on the floor.
The screen was already connected to a video call.
A man was watching us.
Gray hair.
Older face.
Those same familiar eyes.
My father.
Alive.
Mom stopped breathing.
“Michael?”
The man on the screen stared at her.
Thirty-one years disappeared from my mother’s face.
She looked twenty again.
“Michael…”
His lips trembled.
“Susan.”
Mom began sobbing.
I couldn’t move.
Dad looked toward me.
And for the first time in my adult life, I heard my father say my name.
“My little girl.”
My knees nearly gave out.
But before I could answer, he said:
“Listen to me carefully.”
His eyes moved toward Edward.
“Your uncle didn’t betray me.”
Rebecca froze.
Keller’s smile disappeared.
Edward closed his eyes.
Dad continued:
“He took the payments because I told him to.”
“What?”
“The money was how we traced the people controlling Keller.”
Rebecca whispered:
“Then who was the leak?”
My father looked directly into the camera.
For a second, nobody moved.
Then he said:
“The leak was never Edward.”
A pause.
“It was you, Rebecca.”
Rebecca’s face went completely blank.
And suddenly I understood why my father’s photograph had contained that warning.
DON’T TRUST REBECCA.
Rebecca slowly reached inside her coat.
Daniel moved.
Keller pulled Mom backward.
Edward shouted.
And my father screamed through the phone:
“GET DOWN!”
TO BE CONTINUED…
PART 8 — THE WOMAN WHO STOLE THIRTY-ONE YEARS
“GET DOWN!”
My father’s voice exploded from Edward’s phone.
Daniel moved before anyone else.
He grabbed my shoulder and pulled me behind the heavy wooden desk.
At the same instant, Rebecca reached inside her coat.
Edward lunged toward her.
My mother screamed.
Keller dragged Mom backward, still holding the syringe against her neck.
And then Rebecca pulled out—
A badge.
Not a gun.
“EVERYBODY STOP!”
For one confused second, nobody moved.
Rebecca held the badge above her head.
Daniel stared at her.
Edward was breathing hard.
Keller actually laughed.
“You almost had them.”
Rebecca ignored him.
She looked toward Edward’s phone.
“Michael, you’re wrong.”
My father’s voice came through the speaker.
“No, Rebecca.”
“I protected your family.”
“You kept me away from them.”
“To keep them alive.”
“For thirty-one years?”
Rebecca’s jaw tightened.
“You know what would have happened if you came home.”
“I know exactly what happened.”
Dad’s voice changed.
“You made sure Keller knew every time I tried.”
Rebecca shook her head.
“No.”
“Then explain the calls.”
“What calls?”
“The encrypted calls from your office to Keller’s private number.”
Rebecca froze.
Keller stopped smiling.
That tiny reaction told me more than anything else.
Dad continued.
“Twenty-seven calls over eighteen years.”
Rebecca looked toward Keller.
“I never called him.”
Keller’s expression remained perfectly calm.
Dad said:
“I have the records.”
Rebecca’s eyes narrowed.
“Then somebody used my office.”
“That’s what you said eleven years ago.”
I stared at the phone.
“You confronted her before?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“She disappeared.”
Rebecca snapped:
“I was reassigned.”
Dad answered:
“You vanished for nine months.”
“Because my cover was compromised.”
“By whom?”
Rebecca looked at Keller.
“Ask him.”
Keller shook his head.
“This is getting tedious.”
Then he tightened his grip around my mother.
“Give me the film.”
I stood behind the desk, holding the tiny strip between my fingers.
“No.”
His eyes hardened.
“I can make Susan forget much more than thirty-one years.”
Mom went completely still.
I looked at the syringe.
“Is that what you used on her?”
Keller smiled faintly.
“Not exactly.”
Daniel stepped forward.
“Let her go.”
“You’re in no position to negotiate, Captain.”
“Neither are you.”
Daniel nodded toward the window.
Blue lights were still flashing outside.
Keller laughed.
“You still think those people are coming to arrest me?”
That silenced everyone.
I looked toward Rebecca.
She didn’t look surprised.
“Who are they?” I asked.
Keller answered.
“People who understand how important those records are.”
My father’s voice came through the phone.
“They’re not federal agents.”
Keller looked at the screen.
For the first time, his confidence cracked.
“You should have stayed dead, Michael.”
Mom made a sound like she had been punched.
Dad went silent for a second.
Then:
“You should have left my family alone.”
Keller’s face hardened.
“You made them part of this when you stole the ledger.”
“I copied evidence of crimes.”
“You stole research.”
“You experimented on people.”
Keller’s jaw tightened.
“They volunteered.”
“Some did.”
Dad paused.
“Some didn’t.”
Daniel looked at Keller with pure hatred.
“My mother?”
Keller didn’t answer.
Daniel stepped closer.
“Did Patricia volunteer?”
“Daniel,” Rebecca warned.
“I asked him a question.”
Keller looked directly at Daniel.
“Your mother signed a consent form.”
Daniel’s face collapsed for half a second.
Then my father spoke.
“No, she didn’t.”
Daniel looked at the phone.
“What?”
“I have the original.”
Keller’s eyes widened.
Dad continued.
“Patricia Reeves refused the trial.”
Daniel stopped breathing.
“The signature on her consent form was forged.”
Keller shouted:
“YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT.”
It was the first time he had lost control.
And that was when I knew Dad was telling the truth.
Daniel knew too.
His hands curled into fists.
Dad continued:
“Patricia discovered what they were doing. Susan witnessed Keller administering the compound anyway.”
Mom whispered:
“That’s why I was drugged.”
“Yes, Susan.”
My father’s voice softened.
“You were going to testify.”
Tears filled Mom’s eyes.
“I don’t remember.”
“I know.”
“Michael…”
“I know.”
The pain in those two words filled the entire room.
Thirty-one years.
A marriage stolen.
A daughter raised without her father.
A woman convinced her husband had died.
A man forced to watch his family from a distance.
I looked at Rebecca.
“Did you know Keller drugged my mother?”
She hesitated.
That hesitation was enough.
Dad said:
“She knew.”
Rebecca shook her head.
“I knew after it happened.”
“You buried the report.”
“I buried it because Keller had people inside the task force!”
“You buried evidence.”
“To protect Susan!”
Mom suddenly shouted:
“STOP SAYING YOU PROTECTED ME!”
Everyone froze.
My mother shoved against Keller’s arm.
He tightened his grip.
But she didn’t care anymore.
“You all keep saying that word.”
Her voice shook with rage.
“Protected.”
“You protected me by lying.”
“You protected me by erasing my memories.”
“You protected me by letting my daughter believe her father was dead.”
“You protected Michael by keeping him away from his family.”
She looked at Rebecca.
“And now you want me to believe thirty-one years of silence was for my benefit?”
Rebecca’s face fell.
“Susan—”
“No.”
Mom’s eyes moved toward the phone.
“And you.”
Dad went silent.
“You don’t get to escape this either, Michael.”
My heart broke hearing her say his name.
Dad whispered:
“I know.”
“You were alive.”
“Yes.”
“You tried twice?”
“Yes.”
“Only twice?”
Silence.
Mom’s tears came harder.
“Thirty-one years, Michael.”
“I know.”
“You could have found another way.”
“I thought—”
“You thought everyone else got to decide what I could survive.”
Dad closed his eyes on the screen.
“Yes.”
Mom’s voice became quieter.
“And nobody asked me.”
That sentence silenced the room.
Even Keller.
Then Edward spoke.
“Susan.”
Mom looked at him.
“I’m sorry.”
Her face hardened.
“For which part?”
Edward swallowed.
“All of it.”
He stepped forward.
Keller moved the syringe closer.
“Stay back.”
Edward stopped.
Then he looked at my mother.
“Michael did try more than twice.”
Dad’s head snapped up.
“Edward.”
“No.”
Edward shook his head.
“She deserves everything now.”
Mom stared at him.
“How many times?”
“Seven.”
My father closed his eyes.
My chest tightened.
“Seven?”
Edward nodded.
“He came back seven times.”
Mom looked at the phone.
Dad couldn’t look at her.
“When?”
“The first was six months after his disappearance.”
Edward’s voice shook.
“He got within two miles of your house.”
“What happened?”
“Keller’s people were waiting.”
Keller said nothing.
“The second time, someone left photographs of you and your daughter sleeping inside your home.”
My skin crawled.
Edward continued.
“The message was clear.”
Mom covered her mouth.
“The third time was your daughter’s ninth birthday.”
I remembered the man near my school.
That had been Dad.
“The fourth was Christmas when she was thirteen.”
A memory hit me.
Mom and I had found a wrapped package on our porch.
No card.
Inside was a telescope.
I had used it for years.
“That was him?”
Edward nodded.
I started crying.
“The fifth?”
“Her high school graduation.”
“The sixth?”
“College.”
Mom whispered:
“And the seventh?”
Edward looked at my father on the screen.
Dad answered himself.
“Your wedding.”
My knees nearly gave out.
“No.”
Dad looked at me.
“I was there.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“Where?”
“Across the street from the church.”
My wedding photographs flashed through my mind.
Guests.
Flowers.
Cars.
People on sidewalks.
Somewhere among them had been my father.
Watching.
Not allowed to walk inside.
Not allowed to hold me.
Not allowed to dance with me.
I covered my mouth.
“Why didn’t you come in?”
Dad’s voice broke.
“Because there was a man standing twenty feet from the entrance.”
I already knew the answer.
“Keller.”
“No.”
Everyone froze.
Dad looked directly at Rebecca.
“It was Rebecca.”
Rebecca shook her head.
“I was protecting the church.”
“You were watching me.”
“I was watching Keller’s people.”
“You never told me they were there.”
“Because I didn’t know which one was his!”
Edward suddenly looked toward the window.
“Wait.”
Everyone turned.
One of the vehicles outside had started moving.
Then another.
The blue lights disappeared.
Daniel frowned.
“They’re leaving.”
Keller smiled.
“No.”
He looked at me.
“They’re repositioning.”
A second later, the electricity went out.
The house went black.
Mom screamed.
The phone screen became the only light in the room.
“DANIEL!” I shouted.
“I’m here.”
Something crashed.
Edward yelled.
Rebecca cursed.
Then I heard my mother gasp.
I reached toward the sound.
“Mom!”
My hand found empty air.
Then the front door slammed downstairs.
The lights flickered back on.
Keller was gone.
So was my mother.
“No!”
I ran toward the hallway.
Daniel grabbed me.
“Wait!”
“He has her!”
Edward rushed to the window.
A black vehicle tore away from the house.
“DAMN IT!”
I ran downstairs.
The front door was hanging open.
Tire tracks cut across the gravel.
My mother was gone.
I turned toward Rebecca.
“This is your fault.”
“I know.”
“You knew people were outside.”
“Yes.”
“You knew this could happen.”
“Yes.”
“Then fix it.”
She nodded once.
“I intend to.”
My father shouted through the phone.
“Don’t follow Keller.”
I grabbed Edward’s phone.
“He has Mom!”
“I know.”
“Then tell us where he’s taking her.”
Dad hesitated.
That terrified me.
“Dad.”
Hearing myself call him that for the first time in thirty-one years nearly destroyed me.
His face crumpled.
But there was no time for either of us to feel it.
“Where is he taking Mom?”
My father looked away.
Then back at me.
“To the foundation.”
Edward frowned.
“The original building was demolished.”
“The public building was.”
“What does that mean?”
Dad leaned closer to the camera.
“The real facility was underground.”
Daniel stared at him.
“Where?”
“Under St. Catherine’s Hospital.”
My blood went cold.
I knew that name.
“That’s where Mom has been receiving treatment.”
“Yes.”
Everything suddenly made sense.
Keller hadn’t returned to Mom’s life by coincidence.
He had brought her back to the same place where the nightmare started.
I grabbed my coat.
Daniel blocked me.
“You’re not going alone.”
“I’m going.”
“So am I.”
Edward picked up the wooden box.
Rebecca stepped toward us.
“I know the facility.”
I glared at her.
“You’re not coming.”
“You won’t get inside without me.”
Dad spoke through the phone.
“She’s right.”
I stared at him.
“You just told us not to trust her.”
“I said don’t trust her.”
He paused.
“I didn’t say don’t use her.”
Rebecca almost smiled.
“Still you, Michael.”
Dad didn’t respond.
Edward grabbed the car keys.
Then Dad said:
“Wait.”
We stopped.
“There’s something you need before you go.”
“What?”
“The last file on the microfilm.”
I returned to the viewer.
Scrolled.
Page after page.
Then I reached the final document.
There was no patient name.
Only:
PROJECT HOMECOMING
Daniel read over my shoulder.
“What is that?”
I opened the file.
There were photographs.
Surveillance images.
My mother leaving grocery stores.
My mother at work.
My mother visiting doctors.
Me leaving school.
My graduation.
My wedding.
Decades of photographs.
Someone had been watching us the entire time.
Then I reached the final photograph.
It had been taken six months ago.
Mom walking into St. Catherine’s Hospital.
Beside it was a note:
SUBJECT S.M. HAS RETURNED. BEGIN PHASE TWO.
I felt sick.
“What’s phase two?”
Nobody answered.
Then I scrolled lower.
There was one final page.
A list titled:
REUNIFICATION TARGETS
Susan Miller.
Michael Sterling.
Edward Sterling.
Daniel Reeves.
Rebecca Shaw.
And me.
Every person currently connected to this mystery.
Every person who had been pulled toward the same place.
At the bottom was one sentence.
When all surviving witnesses are assembled, terminate Project Homecoming.
Daniel whispered:
“It’s a trap.”
Dad stared through the phone.
“No.”
His expression had changed.
“What?”
He leaned closer.
“That document wasn’t part of the original ledger.”
“How do you know?”
“Because Project Homecoming didn’t exist thirty-one years ago.”
Edward looked at him.
“Then when was this added?”
Dad’s face went pale.
“Six months ago.”
The exact time Mom became sick.
I looked toward Rebecca.
“Who could have added it?”
She whispered:
“Only someone with access to the original program.”
“Keller?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
My stomach dropped.
“Why not?”
“Because Keller was removed from administrative control twelve years ago.”
Daniel frowned.
“Then who runs it now?”
Rebecca stared at the screen.
My father closed his eyes.
Edward lowered the wooden box.
Nobody wanted to answer.
Finally Dad whispered:
“Keller isn’t the person in charge.”
I felt cold all over.
“Then who is?”
Before he could answer, my phone rang.
Mom.
I answered instantly.
“Mom?”
Nothing.
Then her voice.
Weak.
“Sweetheart…”
“Mom! Where are you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you hurt?”
“Keller brought me somewhere underground.”
I looked at Daniel.
St. Catherine’s.
“Listen to me. We’re coming.”
“No.”
“Mom—”
“DON’T.”
Her voice broke.
Then she whispered:
“Keller showed me something.”
“What?”
A long silence.
“Mom?”
When she spoke again, she was crying.
“Your father isn’t the only person we buried who’s still alive.”
Nobody moved.
“Who?”
I heard a door open on her end.
Mom suddenly whispered:
“Oh my God.”
Then a man spoke in the background.
A voice Edward recognized instantly.
The wooden box slipped from his hands and crashed onto the floor.
“Impossible.”
I stared at him.
“Who is that?”
Edward’s face had gone completely white.
He whispered:
“Our father.”
My grandfather.
The man who supposedly died forty years ago.
Then the voice on Mom’s phone said:
“Bring me my granddaughter.”
The call ended.
And for the first time, even my father looked terrified.
TO BE CONTINUED…
