Chapter 8 - Vincent stared at the photograph for a full ten seconds.No one spoke.
Finally, Mom whispered:
“That's Daniel.”
Vincent nodded.
“And my father.”
The guard placed the image on the table.
“Photo was found in the basement.”
Vincent turned it over.
No date.
No location.
Nothing.
He looked at another image.
Daniel and Sterling.
Another.
Daniel and Vincent's father.
Another.
Claire Monroe.
Then one that made Mom recoil.
She was in it.
Standing outside the hospital the night Daniel supposedly died.
The photograph had been taken from across the street.
Mom shook her head.
“I never saw that car.”
Vincent looked closer.
“That's because it wasn't a car.”
He zoomed in.
A black security van.
Kane Security.
Mom turned toward him.
“You said someone used your company.”
Vincent nodded.
“My father.”
“But he's dead.”
“Yes.”
“Then who was using it?”
Vincent didn't answer.
His guard whispered:
“Maybe someone wants us to think he's dead.”
Vincent looked at him.
“Find the van.”
They traced the license plate.
It had been decommissioned six years ago.
Then reactivated last month.
Same vehicle.
Same company.
Different driver.
The driver's name was Thomas Reed.
Vincent recognized it.
“Impossible.”
“What?”
“My father's personal driver.”
The guard looked confused.
“He died with him.”
Vincent stared.
“Apparently not.”
They returned to the restaurant.
Sterling's Bistro was closed.
Lights off.
Chairs stacked.
Vincent's men entered first.
The basement door was locked.
He unlocked it.
A staircase descended.
They walked through a concrete corridor.
The deeper they went, the colder it became.
At the bottom was a massive room filled with computers.
Server racks.
Documents.
Money-counting machines.
Cameras.
And dozens of employee files.
Mom looked around.
“This is where they keep everything.”
Vincent nodded.
A screen displayed the words:
TRANSFER IN 42 DAYS.
Another screen showed names.
All seventy-seven victims.
Each had a status.
Mom's status was different.
PRIORITY.
Vincent's face hardened.
“Why is she priority?”
A guard pointed at another monitor.
There were files on me.
Medical records.
Birth certificate.
School registration.
Photographs.
Every place I'd ever been.
Every person who had babysat me.
My favorite restaurant.
My favorite toy.
Even the color of my bedroom curtains.
Mom took a step backward.
“How long have they been watching her?”
Vincent stared.
“Since birth.”
Mom covered her mouth.
I pointed at the screen.
“That's my birthday.”
Vincent nodded.
Then another screen activated.
A live camera feed.
Our apartment.
My bedroom.
The camera view moved.
A person entered the room.
Mom screamed.
Vincent stepped forward.
The figure turned toward the camera.
It was Daniel.
Alive.
He looked directly into the lens.
Then he said:
“Vincent.”
Vincent froze.
Daniel continued.
“You should not be here.”
Mom collapsed against the wall.
“Daniel?”
He looked at the camera.
“She can hear me?”
Vincent moved toward the screen.
“No.”
Daniel looked straight at him.
“Yes.”
Vincent's eyes narrowed.
“How?”
Daniel smiled faintly.
“Because I built this system.”
The camera shut off.
A loud alarm sounded.
Every computer began deleting files.
Vincent shouted:
“Pull the drives!”
Guards rushed forward.
Screens went black one after another.
Mom cried:
“Wait!”
One monitor remained.
A countdown appeared.
00:10
Vincent stared.
“Get back!”
00:09
00:08
00:07
Mom grabbed me.
00:06
A final message appeared.
DANIEL CARTER IS NOT THE ENEMY.
00:05
Vincent's face tightened.
00:04
HE IS THE REASON YOUR DAUGHTER IS STILL ALIVE.
00:03
00:02
00:01
The entire system exploded into darkness.
Then one final line appeared.
ASK YOUR MOTHER WHAT SHE DID IN 2004.
Mom stopped breathing.
Vincent slowly turned toward her.
“What happened in 2004?”
She looked at him.
Tears rolled down her cheeks.
“I don't remember.”
May you like
Vincent stared at her.
“Then someone made sure you wouldn't.”
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