Andrew called his father again.
No answer.
He tried a second time.
Nothing.
I took the phone from him.
“Don't call again.”
“Why?”
“Because he wants to know where you are.”
Andrew stared at me.
“He just told me not to trust you.”
“I know.”
“And you're telling me not to contact him.”
“Yes.”
“Why should I trust you?”
I looked at him.
“You shouldn't.”
He seemed surprised.
“Not automatically.”
I handed the phone back.
“Trust what we can prove.”
Whitmore nodded.
“That is the only safe approach.”
We returned to the old house.
My father was waiting.
When he saw the photograph, he sat down.
“You know him,” I said.
“Yes.”
“How well?”
“Well enough to know he was never loyal to Harlan.”
“Who was he loyal to?”
My father looked at me.
“His son.”
Andrew stood behind me.
“My father did all of this for me?”
“No.”
My father looked at him.
“He did some of it because he believed the military had destroyed your family.”
Andrew frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“My father was part of a covert investigation into Harlan.”
Andrew's eyes widened.
“So was mine.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“My father told me once that Harlan ruined his career.”
“Did he say why?”
“No.”
My father sighed.
“He discovered that Harlan was using military contracts to fund unauthorized operations.”
“And my father tried to expose him?”
“Yes.”
“Then why was he involved in my disappearance?”
“Because Harlan threatened Andrew.”
Andrew went still.
“My father was protecting me?”
“Yes.”
I looked at my father.
“From what?”
“Harlan believed Andrew could identify the financial accounts.”
Andrew shook his head.
“I was twelve.”
“That didn't matter.”
“What did matter?”
“Your mother.”
Andrew looked confused.
“My mother?”
“She was the one who found the records.”
Andrew sat down.
“I thought she died in an accident.”
“She didn't.”
The room fell silent.
My father continued.
“She was killed because she discovered the offshore accounts.”
Andrew covered his face.
“I never knew.”
“You weren't supposed to.”
I looked at my father.
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
He looked at me.
“Because secrets were how we survived.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“Secrets were how this happened.”
My father didn't argue.
Claire stepped closer.
“Then why did Mom leave the evidence with me?”
“Because she knew you were the only person Harlan wouldn't suspect.”
I looked at the box.
The key inside it had a number engraved on one side.
214.
I recognized it.
“Locker.”
Whitmore looked at me.
“Where?”
“Union Station.”
We left immediately.
The station was crowded despite the early hour.
I hated that.
Too many people.
Too many blind corners.
Too many places for someone to disappear.
Claire stayed between Whitmore and Andrew.
My father remained behind us.
We found locker 214.
The key fit.
Inside was a small metal case.
No documents.
Only a memory card.
I inserted it into a secure reader.
The first file opened.
Video.
My mother appeared on screen.
She looked older than in the photograph.
Tired.
But calm.
“If you're watching this, then Daniel has survived.”
Claire began crying.
My mother continued.
“I don't know how long I have.”
The video paused briefly.
Then resumed.
“Harlan was never the person I feared most.”
I looked at Whitmore.
She leaned closer.
“My fear was the man who stood beside him.”
A second photograph appeared.
Andrew's father.
Then my mother said:
“He was not working for Harlan. He was working against him.”
Andrew stared at the screen.
“Then why did he betray Daniel?”
My mother's voice answered.
“He didn't.”
Andrew looked at me.
I felt the same confusion.
The video continued.
“The night Daniel disappeared, Andrew's father found him first.”
I remembered the fire.
Smoke.
Concrete.
A hand pulling me.
But I couldn't see the face.
My mother said:
“He carried Daniel out.”
Andrew whispered:
“My father saved you.”
“Yes.”
The video continued.
“But Daniel was badly injured. His identity had to disappear.”
Then my mother looked directly into the camera.
“That is where I made my mistake.”
The video ended.
A second file opened automatically.
It showed a hospital room.
I recognized the room.
I had spent months there.
A younger version of myself lay unconscious.
A man stood beside the bed.
Andrew's father.
He looked terrified.
Then another man entered.
General Harlan.
Harlan leaned toward him.
“Where is the boy?”
Andrew's father shook his head.
“He's dead.”
Harlan smiled.
“Good.”
The video stopped.
Andrew looked sick.
“My father lied to Harlan.”
“Yes.”
“To save you.”
“Yes.”
“Then why did he tell me not to trust you?”
I didn't know.
We returned to the old house.
There was one more file.
It contained an audio recording.
Andrew's father's voice.
“I made one mistake.”
A pause.
“I told Daniel's father where the boy was.”
My father closed his eyes.
The recording continued.
“I thought he could protect him.”
I looked at my father.
He looked ashamed.
“I didn't.”
The voice continued.
“Harlan found out.”
A second voice appeared.
My father's.
“What do you want me to do?”
Andrew's father answered:
“Make Daniel disappear.”
The recording ended.
Andrew stared at his father’s photograph.
“He helped you.”
“Yes.”
“And you still hid everything.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
My father looked at him.
“Because Harlan had people everywhere.”
I turned away.
Then I noticed something in the audio metadata.
A recording date.
One day after the fire.
I froze.
“That can't be right.”
Whitmore looked over.
“What?”
“This recording was made after I disappeared.”
“Yes.”
“Then someone had access to my father after the fire.”
We examined the file.
A second voice had been removed.
Not erased.
Cut.
Someone had edited the recording.
I looked at Marcus.
He had been silent for several minutes.
“Who edited it?”
He answered quietly.
“I did.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
“Because the missing voice was yours.”
My stomach tightened.
“I was unconscious.”
“Yes.”
“You recorded me?”
“No.”
Marcus looked at Michael.
“Your brother did.”
Michael nodded.
“You spoke while you were unconscious.”
“What did I say?”
Michael looked at me.
“You gave us the name.”
“Whose?”
He didn't answer.
Claire whispered:
“Whose name?”
Michael finally said:
“Your mother.”
I felt the room shift.
“That doesn't make sense.”
“It will.”
“How?”
“You kept saying one sentence.”
“What sentence?”
Michael looked directly at me.
“Mom knows.”
I stared at him.
“Mom knows what?”
Michael shook his head.
“We never found out.”
The front door suddenly opened.
Everyone turned.
A woman stood there.
Older.
Wet from the rain.
Alive.
My mother.
Click here to continue reading: PART 11: My Mother Walked Through the Door Alive, and Her First Words Exposed the Secret Everyone Had Been Protecting Me From Since the Fire
She Thought I Was Nothing More Than a Clerk Until One Quiet Entrance Changed the Entire Room
Part 10 of 12
