Chapter 9 - The Man Behind the GlassI didn't sleep after Emma said that.
She couldn't have been there six years ago.
She wasn't even born.
Yet the recording contained her voice.
Cole played it again.
Three times.
Same result.
The girl's voice was unmistakably Emma.
We sent the file to a forensic audio specialist.
The answer came the next morning.
“It's synthetic.”
Not a real recording.
Someone had reconstructed Emma's voice.
Using samples.
I stared at Cole.
“From where?”
“Possibly years of recorded speech.”
“That means they've had access to her.”
“Or to recordings of her.”
The distinction didn't make me feel any safer.
We returned to the notebook.
Claire had written a strange sentence:
They don't watch the children. They train the adults.
I didn't understand.
Cole did.
“Fear makes people predictable.”
“Meaning?”
“They don't need to control you physically.”
“They need you scared enough to do what they want.”
Vanessa.
The cameras.
The threats.
The photograph of Claire.
Everything was designed to manipulate me.
Then a message arrived.
M:
Bring the box.
Location attached.
An abandoned train station.
Time.
11:00 p.m.
Cole wanted surveillance.
I refused police protection.
“Whoever this is knows every camera we've used.”
He agreed.
“We go dark.”
At 10:47, we arrived.
The station was empty.
Rain hit the roof.
The tracks disappeared into darkness.
A screen flickered inside an old ticket booth.
Claire appeared.
Live.
She was sitting in a chair.
Her hands tied.
I stepped forward.
“Claire!”
Her eyes widened.
She whispered something.
I couldn't hear.
The screen zoomed in.
Her lips moved.
“Don't…”
The signal cut.
A speaker came alive.
“Did you bring the box?”
I held it up.
“Yes.”
“Open it.”
I opened it.
“Put the contents on the floor.”
Claire's voice came from the speaker.
“Daniel, don't.”
I froze.
The person controlling the screen laughed.
“You see?”
“He still trusts her.”
“What do you want?”
“The notebook.”
I threw it down.
Silence.
Then:
“Now the truth.”
A projector turned on.
A video appeared.
Six years earlier.
The warehouse.
Me.
Michael.
Adrian Vale.
Martin Crowe.
And four children.
The girls from the notebook.
I watched myself walk into the room.
I spoke to someone off camera.
“What are they doing here?”
Martin replied:
“They saw something.”
“What?”
“Enough.”
I saw myself looking at Lily.
She was crying.
I had stepped toward her.
“Take me instead.”
Exactly as the recorder had captured.
Then Adrian struck me from behind.
The video cut.
I stared at the screen.
“What happened afterward?”
The voice answered:
“You died.”
“What?”
“Officially.”
I turned to Cole.
His expression was frozen.
The video resumed.
Someone carried my unconscious body away.
Then another man appeared.
My brother Michael.
Alive.
Standing beside Claire.
They were talking.
Michael said:
“He can't know.”
Claire replied:
“Then erase it.”
The video stopped.
I shook my head.
“My brother died six years ago.”
The speaker answered:
“That's what you were told.”
A door opened behind the screen.
A man walked into the station.
Older.
Gray hair.
Silver ring.
Adrian Vale.
Cole raised his weapon.
“Adrian!”
Adrian smiled.
“You still arrive late.”
“Where is Claire?”
“Alive.”
“Where?”
Adrian looked at me.
“You want your wife.”
“Yes.”
“Then give me Emma.”
My blood turned to ice.
“No.”
Adrian's expression became almost gentle.
“She was never yours.”
“What does that mean?”
“You'll find out.”
Then the station lights turned off.
A gunshot echoed.
When the lights returned, Adrian was gone.
So was the box.
And on the floor lay one photograph.
Claire.
Holding a newborn baby.
May you like
On the back:
YOU HAVE BEEN RAISING THE WRONG CHILD.
Related Stories
