Chapter 13 - The House Was Never Ours
The room began filling with smoke.
“Dad!”
I grabbed Chloe and covered her mouth.
Luis kicked the door.
Nothing.
“There's another exit,” he shouted.
We searched.
None.
Then Chloe pointed at the floor.
“Dad.”
A metal grate.
We pulled it up.
A tunnel.
We crawled through as smoke flooded the room behind us.
The tunnel led beneath the rail yard.
We emerged into an abandoned service garage.
Three vehicles waited outside.
One belonged to my company.
Another belonged to Daniel.
The third had federal plates.
Luis stopped.
“What?”
I stared.
“Someone knew we were coming.”
A federal agent stepped out.
“Gabriel Bennett?”
I raised my gun.
“Who are you?”
“Special Agent Mason.”
“Why are you here?”
“To stop this.”
I didn't trust him.
Neither did Luis.
Agent Mason looked at Chloe.
“She has to come with us.”
“No.”
“Your daughter is being targeted by a network that has infiltrated your company, local law enforcement, and several government agencies.”
“I know.”
“You don't know all of it.”
He handed me a file.
Inside was an evidence photograph.
My home.
Taken eleven years ago.
The night Chloe was born.
Three men were standing outside.
Daniel.
Martin.
And Eleanor.
Teresa wasn't in the picture.
I looked at Mason.
“Why were they there?”
“Because Chloe wasn't the target.”
“What?”
Mason turned the page.
A medical record.
My name.
Then another.
Teresa.
Then Chloe.
Someone had ordered genetic testing.
I stared.
“Why?”
Mason said quietly,
“Because they needed to know which child inherited your father's neurological memory trait.”
I looked at Chloe.
She was listening.
“They tested her,” I said.
“Before she was born.”
The world seemed to tilt.
“Who?”
“Your mother.”
I looked at the agent.
“Why would Eleanor care?”
“Because your father hid something in a memory sequence.”
“What does that mean?”
Mason didn't answer.
Instead, he opened an old photograph.
My father.
My mother.
Daniel.
And me.
The four of us standing in front of a warehouse.
On the back was a handwritten sentence.
ONE SON WILL REMEMBER.
ONE SON WILL FORGET.
ONE GRANDCHILD WILL UNDERSTAND.
I stared at the words.
Then Chloe spoke.
“I know what it means.”
Everyone looked at her.
“Grandpa used to tell me a story.”
“What story?”
“About four trucks.”
I frowned.
She continued.
“Every truck carried the same boxes. But only one truck had the real box.”
“What box?”
“I don't know.”
“Then how do you know?”
“Because Grandpa asked Dad to tell me the story when I turned twelve.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why twelve?”
Chloe's eyes moved toward me.
“Because that's when he said the memory would become complete.”
Mason looked at Luis.
Luis looked at me.
Then all three of our phones rang simultaneously.
A message appeared.
TOMORROW NIGHT.
YOUR HOUSE.
BRING YOUR DAUGHTER.
I stared at the screen.
Mason whispered,
“This is over.”
“No.”
I looked toward Chloe.
“They're not taking her.”
Then I noticed something strange.
The message came from Teresa's phone.
May you like
My wife had been missing for hours.
And yet someone was sending messages from her number.
