Chapter 10 - The Police Officer With the Snake RingThe Truth Was Buried Inside MeArthur shot the officer before he could fire again.
The man collapsed.
Everyone rushed toward the door.
More officers appeared outside.
Too many.
Arthur shouted:
“Back!”
Gunfire tore through the hallway.
We ran through a hidden passage behind the kitchen.
I carried Noah.
Arthur carried Owen.
Mom followed with Dr. Mercer.
Behind us, the safe house filled with smoke.
“How did they find us?” I asked.
Arthur didn't answer.
Then his lieutenant spoke.
“We have a leak.”
Arthur stopped.
“Who?”
The lieutenant hesitated.
Arthur pointed his gun at him.
“Tell me.”
“I don't know.”
Arthur lowered the weapon.
“Then find out.”
We escaped through an underground tunnel and reached a waiting truck.
Noah cried softly.
I whispered to him.
“It's okay.”
Arthur glanced at me in the rear mirror.
“No.”
“What?”
“It's not okay.”
He sounded exhausted.
“But we're alive.”
“For now.”
We drove to Union Station.
The building had been closed for years.
Arthur used the key.
A metal panel inside an old ticket booth opened.
Behind it was a narrow chamber.
There was a table.
Three chairs.
And a red book.
My father's handwriting covered the cover.
I touched it.
Arthur stopped me.
“Wait.”
He checked for traps.
Nothing.
Inside the book were children's drawings.
Blue doors.
Red circles.
Little houses.
Numbers.
I recognized them.
“I drew these.”
Arthur stared.
“You remember?”
“Not all of it.”
I turned a page.
There was a picture of our old house.
Underneath it:
HOME IS NOT SAFE.
Another page:
THE MAN IN THE BLUE CAR.
Another:
ONE BROTHER IS NOT A BROTHER.
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Arthur stared at the words.
“It's a warning.”
“About Owen?”
“No.”
He turned the page.
There was another sentence.
THE SECOND CHILD BELONGS TO THOMAS.
Arthur stopped breathing.
I stared.
“One of my brothers?”
Arthur looked toward the twins.
Owen was sleeping.
Noah was awake.
He had his tiny fist around a silver button.
A button with a snake engraved on it.
Arthur's face drained of color.
“No.”
“What?”
He gently opened Noah's hand.
The button was identical to the ones used by Victor Vale's men.
“How did he get this?”
I didn't know.
Then Noah started crying.
I picked him up.
He pressed his face into my shoulder.
Arthur searched the room.
“Who dressed him?”
Nobody answered.
Dr. Mercer stepped closer.
“Arthur.”
“What?”
“Look at his wrist.”
A tiny black mark was printed beneath Noah's sleeve.
Not ink.
A tattoo.
A number.
17.
Arthur's face turned white.
“The baby wasn't kidnapped.”
I stared at him.
“What are you saying?”
Arthur looked at Noah.
Then at Owen.
Then at me.
“Someone has been marking the children.”
My stomach twisted.
“Why?”
Arthur swallowed.
“Because one of them is not yours.”
I couldn't breathe.
May you like
Arthur looked at me.
“And neither is he.”
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