Chapter 5 - No one spoke for several seconds.
I stared at the screen.
My father's name.
Thomas Reed.
Dead for three years.
My mother sat down slowly.
“No.”
I looked at her.
“You knew.”
“I knew he had plans.”
“That isn't what I asked.”
She looked at me.
“I thought he was dead.”
Marcus laughed bitterly.
“You all thought he was dead.”
My head spun.
“How could my father be alive?”
Marcus shook his head.
“I don't know.”
“You've been working for him.”
“For someone using his identity.”
“Who?”
“That is what I've been trying to find out.”
My mother stood.
“Show me the message.”
Marcus handed her the phone.
She read it.
Then her expression changed.
“What?”
She pointed to the bottom.
“That's Thomas's old encryption.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means whoever sent this had access to something only Thomas and I knew.”
She looked at me.
“The key.”
I pulled it from my pocket.
She nodded.
“That's not just a key.”
“What is it?”
“A marker.”
“For what?”
“The last archive.”
I waited.
She continued.
“Thomas created a hidden archive containing every piece of research, every payment, every name.”
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
“You don't know?”
“He never told me.”
“Then why does the key matter?”
“Because the archive can't be opened without it.”
I looked at Emma.
She was sitting quietly on the basement steps.
My mother crouched beside her.
“Emmy.”
Emma looked up.
“Why did you call me that?”
My mother smiled sadly.
“Because I knew your father would give you the name I couldn't.”
Emma frowned.
“What does it mean?”
“It means little one.”
Emma reached out and touched my mother's face.
“You really are Grandma.”
My mother's eyes filled with tears.
“Yes.”
Emma hugged her.
I looked away.
I didn't trust myself to watch.
Then Marcus said:
“We have a bigger problem.”
“What?”
He pointed at the wall.
“Someone has been inside this room recently.”
I stepped forward.
There were fresh scratches around one of the filing cabinets.
Someone had moved it.
Behind the cabinet was a narrow tunnel.
My mother stared at it.
“That wasn't there before.”
Marcus frowned.
“It was.”
She turned toward him.
“You knew?”
“I suspected.”
I pulled the cabinet aside.
A passage disappeared into darkness.
Cold air rushed through.
At the end was another door.
There was a note attached to it.
My name was written across the front.
Daniel.
I tore it open.
Inside was a photograph.
It showed my father standing outside a hospital.
He looked exactly as he had three years after my mother's funeral.
Impossible.
But the date printed on the image was recent.
Six months ago.
On the back:
YOU BURIED THE WRONG MAN.
My breathing stopped.
I showed it to my mother.
She stared at the photograph.
“He's alive.”
Marcus shook his head.
“Or someone wants us to believe he is.”
Then the sound of an engine came from outside.
My mother grabbed Emma.
“Lights off.”
We killed every light.
Three cars stopped outside.
Doors opened.
Men stepped into the rain.
I looked through the window.
Four men.
Black jackets.
One of them held a rifle.
My mother whispered:
“They found us.”
“How?”
She looked at the key in my hand.
“They never lost track of it.”
The front door exploded.
We ran into the tunnel.
Marcus slammed the hidden door behind us.
Gunshots cracked through the house.
Emma screamed.
I pulled her close.
We stumbled through the passage.
At the end was a narrow staircase leading upward.
My mother unlocked another door.
We emerged behind an abandoned greenhouse.
A black SUV waited nearby.
“Get in.”
I pushed Emma into the back seat.
Marcus jumped into the passenger seat.
My mother took the wheel.
We sped into the darkness.
For ten minutes no one spoke.
Then Emma said:
“Grandma?”
“Yes?”
“The woman outside our house.”
My mother looked at her in the mirror.
“What about her?”
“She told me something.”
My mother stiffened.
“What?”
“She said…”
Emma looked at me.
“She said, ‘Don't believe the woman who looks like me.’”
My mother slammed on the brakes.
The SUV stopped in the middle of the road.
Marcus turned around.
“What did you say?”
Emma pointed at him.
“She said Marcus was lying too.”
My mother slowly turned toward Marcus.
He looked terrified.
Then another car appeared behind us.
Its headlights illuminated the road.
A man stepped out.
Even through the rain, I recognized him.
My father.
Thomas Reed.
May you like
He looked directly at me.
And smiled.
