Chapter 4 - By morning, I knew I couldn't stay in the house.Not because I was afraid.

Because the house itself had become evidence.

Every room held a secret.

Every person inside it had a motive.

And somewhere behind all of it was Blackridge.

I needed someone outside my family.

Someone I could trust.

There was one person.

Captain Marcus Reed.

My former commanding officer.

After I left the military, Marcus and I stayed in contact.

I called him from a secure line.

He answered on the second ring.

“David?”

“I'm home.”

Silence.

Then:

“You weren't supposed to be.”

My blood ran cold.

“What does that mean?”

Marcus lowered his voice.

“Where are you?”

“My house.”

“Leave it.”

“Why?”

“I can't explain over the phone.”

“Try.”

“Your deployment file was flagged.”

“By who?”

“Military intelligence.”

“Why?”

Another pause.

“Because your status was altered.”

I closed my eyes.

“How?”

“You were listed as deceased.”

I gripped the phone.

“Two years ago?”

“Yes.”

“Who submitted it?”

“The report originated through a private contractor.”

“Blackridge?”

Marcus went silent.

That was enough.

“I need records,” I said.

“I need to see you in person.”

“Tonight.”

“No.”

“Tomorrow?”

“You can't stay at that house.”

“I have nowhere else.”

“You have options.”

“Marcus.”

His voice hardened.

“David, listen carefully. You weren't just being monitored.”

He paused.

“You were part of something.”

“What?”

“I'll tell you when I see you.”

“Tell me now.”

“I can't.”

The line went dead.

I stared at the phone.

Part of something.

The phrase stayed with me.

I went back inside.

My mother was in the kitchen.

She looked at me.

“You look tired.”

“I didn't sleep.”

“Jet lag.”

“Maybe.”

She poured coffee.

I watched her.

“Mom.”

“Yes?”

“Do you believe dead people can come back?”

Her hand stopped.

Only for a second.

Then she smiled.

“Don't be dramatic.”

I sat down.

“I was thinking about Dad.”

Her expression changed.

My father had died when I was twelve.

“Why?”

“Just remembering him.”

She looked away.

“You were always sentimental after deployments.”

“Was Dad involved in anything unusual?”

She frowned.

“What kind of question is that?”

“Business.”

“He was an accountant.”

“An accountant with access to medical research?”

She stared at me.

There it was.

Fear.

Real fear.

Then she smiled again.

“I have no idea what you're talking about.”

Gwen entered.

My mother immediately stopped talking.

Gwen saw us.

Then she looked at me.

I gave her a tiny nod.

Later, I found her in the laundry room.

“Marcus says I was declared dead two years ago.”

Gwen looked terrified.

“I knew it.”

“Knew what?”

“They told me the same thing.”

“Who?”

“Your mother.”

“Why?”

“They wanted me to cooperate.”

“With what?”

“I don't know.”

“You do.”

She shook her head.

“I don't.”

“Gwen.”

She pressed her fingers against her forehead.

“I remember a room.”

“What room?”

“A white room.”

She closed her eyes.

“There were cameras.”

I listened.

“A man was asking me questions.”

“Dr. Cross?”

“I don't know.”

“What questions?”

“About you.”

My stomach tightened.

“About me?”

“They wanted to know where you'd be stationed.”

“Why?”

“I don't know.”

“What else?”

She struggled to remember.

“He kept saying you were important.”

“Important how?”

“He said you had seen something.”

I stared at her.

“What had I seen?”

“I don't know.”

Then Gwen suddenly grabbed my arm.

“I remembered something.”

“What?”

“Your mother came to the hospital.”

“When?”

“After they told me you died.”

“What did she say?”

Gwen's eyes filled with tears.

“She said if I didn't sign the papers, they would send me somewhere I would never come back from.”

I clenched my jaw.

“What papers?”

“Your estate.”

“Where are they?”

“I don't know.”

“Think.”

She closed her eyes.

Then whispered:

“Safe.”

“What safe?”

“Your father's old safe.”

I froze.

My father had owned a small cabin outside town.

We hadn't visited it in years.

“Where?”

“Behind the fireplace.”

I grabbed my keys.

“I'll be back.”

Gwen caught my hand.

“David.”

I looked at her.

“Don't trust Marcus.”

I froze.

“What?”

“He was there.”

“Where?”

“The white room.”

I stared at her.

“Gwen, are you sure?”

She nodded.

“He was talking to Dr. Cross.”

My chest tightened.

Marcus?

My closest friend?

My commanding officer?

Impossible.

Then my phone rang.

Marcus.

I answered.

“David.”

“Why did Gwen say you were involved with Blackridge?”

Silence.

Then Marcus said:

“You need to get out of the city.”

“Why?”

“Because they're coming for you.”

“Who?”

“I don't have time.”

The call ended.

A loud crash came from downstairs.

Gwen screamed.

I ran.

My mother was standing in the kitchen.

The back door was open.

Glass covered the floor.

And Paige was gone.

On the counter sat a single black envelope.

My name was written on it.

Inside was a photograph.

Paige was sitting in a chair.

Her wrists were tied.

Someone had painted a red circle over her face.

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