Chapter 1 - The PhotographThe photograph trembled in my hand.
Not because I was afraid.
Because I knew the man in it.
Every scar.
Every line around his eyes.
Every crooked half-smile that used to appear whenever he knew he was about to annoy me.
Logan.
My twin brother.
The man I had watched disappear eight years ago.
The boy standing in front of me was still holding the edge of the photograph.
“That's my daddy,” he whispered.
I couldn't take my eyes off the picture.
“What's your name?”
“Eli.”
“And your dad's name?”
He looked around.
Then he lowered his voice.
“Logan Carter.”
My breath caught.
Behind me, a patrol car rolled slowly down the street.
People were walking to work.
A woman was carrying groceries.
A bus hissed to a stop.
Everything looked normal.
But my world had split open.
“Eli,” I said carefully, “where did you get this picture?”
“My dad gave it to me.”
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
“Where is he now?”
Eli's eyes filled with tears.
“He told me to find you if anything happened.”
Cold rushed through my body.
“What happened?”
The boy looked over my shoulder.
Someone was watching us.
I felt it before I saw it.
Across the street stood a man in a gray coat.
Baseball cap.
Dark glasses.
Still.
Too still.
The moment our eyes met, he turned and walked away.
I stood.
“Eli, stay here.”
I took two steps toward the stranger.
Then my radio crackled.
“Unit 14, possible disturbance two blocks east.”
I glanced back.
Eli was gone.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
“Eli?”
No answer.
I ran toward the corner.
Nothing.
The sidewalk was empty.
A school bus passed between me and the street.
When it moved on, the boy had disappeared.
I searched the alley.
Nothing.
Then I noticed something lying beside the curb.
A small blue backpack.
I picked it up.
Inside was a toy car, a juice box, a folded piece of paper...
And a second photograph.
This one was older.
Two boys stood side by side.
Both were sixteen.
Both had the same dark eyes.
The same crooked smile.
The same tattoo on their forearms.
Me.
And Logan.
I turned the photo over.
There were four words written on the back.
DON'T TRUST YOUR PARTNER.
I felt someone step behind me.
I reached for my weapon.
“Officer Carter?”
I spun around.
Detective Marcus Reed stood there.
My partner.
My friend for nearly six years.
He stared at the photograph in my hand.
All the color drained from his face.
“Where did you get that?”
“From the boy.”
“What boy?”
“The boy who was just standing here.”
Marcus looked toward the empty street.
Then back at me.
His voice dropped.
“Colin...”
“What?”
“That photograph was taken the night Logan disappeared.”
I frowned.
“That’s impossible.”
“No.”
He swallowed.
“It's worse than that.”
He pointed to the background.
There was a black SUV parked behind us in the original photograph.
I had never noticed it before.
Marcus did.
“That vehicle belonged to the Federal Bureau of Investigation.”
I stared at him.
“Why would the FBI be there?”
Marcus didn't answer.
Instead, he looked at the tattoo on my arm.
Then he said something that made my blood run cold.
“Because Logan wasn't the person they were looking for.”
“Then who were they looking for?”
Marcus stared directly into my eyes.
“You.”
Before I could respond, my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
A distorted voice whispered:
“You should have let your brother stay dead.”
The line went silent.
Then my phone received a photo.
I opened it.
It showed Eli sitting in the back seat of a car.
And beside him...
Was Logan.
Alive.
Looking directly into the camera.
May you like
Under the photograph was one message:
HE KNOWS WHAT YOU DID.
