Chapter 8: The Memory They Stole
The footsteps stopped.
One.
Two.
Three.
Then silence.
I couldn't breathe.
The last image from the projector was still burned into my mind.
Elias.
My brother.
Nine years old.
Standing beside me in front of the red door.
And his lips forming three words:
Daniel killed me.
I looked at Detective Collins.
She looked just as stunned.
“That video is fake,” I said.
My voice barely sounded like mine.
“It has to be.”
Collins didn't answer.
“Tell me it's fake.”
“We don't know.”
“You're a detective.”
“I know.”
“You investigate things.”
“I know.”
“Then investigate this!”
My voice echoed through the room.
Collins grabbed the projector.
“It's old footage.”
“So?”
“The image quality is genuine.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means the recording may actually be from 2005.”
My stomach twisted.
“No.”
“Daniel…”
“No.”
I stepped backward.
“I didn't kill Elias.”
“I didn't say you did.”
“But the video says I did.”
“It says he said you did.”
I stared at her.
“That's different?”
“Very.”
She walked toward the projector.
“Someone could have forced him to say it.”
“Who?”
“We need to find out.”
The room was still dark.
The footsteps had disappeared.
I pulled out my phone.
No signal.
“Where is Lily?”
“I don't know.”
“Then we need to get out.”
Collins examined the steel door.
“There's another exit.”
“Where?”
She pointed toward the back wall.
A narrow ventilation passage.
“That's not an exit.”
“It leads somewhere.”
“How do you know?”
“I've been here before.”
I stared at her.
“When?”
“Two years ago.”
“During Anna's investigation?”
She nodded.
“What happened?”
“I followed Anna.”
“And?”
“She found this room.”
“What did she do?”
“She cried.”
I froze.
“Anna cried?”
“She wasn't afraid.”
“Then why?”
“Because she found the tapes.”
I walked toward the shelves.
“What was she looking for?”
“Elias.”
I pulled another cassette from the shelf.
ELIAS - SESSION 9
“What's a session?”
“I don't know.”
I inserted it into the player.
Static.
Then a man's voice.
“Elias, we're going to try again.”
A child's voice answered.
“Where's Daniel?”
“He's safe.”
“I want him.”
“You can't see him yet.”
“Why?”
“Because you're dangerous.”
The boy started crying.
“I didn't do anything.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you keeping me here?”
Silence.
Then the man said:
“Because your brother needs to forget.”
My blood froze.
“Forget what?”
The tape continued.
The man spoke slowly.
“Daniel needs to believe you died.”
Elias sobbed.
“But I'm alive.”
“Yes.”
“When can I go home?”
“When Daniel forgets you.”
The tape clicked.
I stopped it.
My hands were shaking.
“Someone kept him alive.”
Collins nodded.
“For years.”
“Why?”
“To control me.”
She didn't answer.
“That's why Michael appeared.”
“Maybe.”
“To replace him.”
“Maybe.”
“No.”
I turned toward her.
“It's not a coincidence.”
“What?”
“Michael showed up after Elias disappeared.”
She stared at me.
“And everyone told me he was my brother.”
“Your parents.”
“Yes.”
“Anna?”
I froze.
“Anna never called him Elias.”
“What?”
“She always called him Michael.”
I remembered.
Every family photograph.
Every Christmas.
Every birthday.
Anna never once said:
“Elias.”
She always said:
“Michael.”
I had thought nothing of it.
Now it felt deliberate.
Maybe Anna knew.
Maybe she had been protecting me from the truth.
Then why did she die?
I heard something behind me.
A soft click.
The steel door opened.
I spun around.
Nobody was there.
Collins raised her weapon.
“Stay back.”
We stepped into the corridor.
The hallway was empty.
But there was something on the floor.
A small black envelope.
I picked it up.
My name was written on it.
DANIEL CARTER
Inside was a photograph.
Me.
At nine years old.
Standing beside Elias.
But the photograph was taken from inside our house.
Someone had been watching us.
On the back was a date.
October 14, 2005.
Below it:
Three days before Elias disappeared.
I looked at Collins.
“Who took this?”
“We need to find the original.”
“Why?”
“Because the photograph may contain evidence.”
I looked again.
There was something behind us.
A man standing in the doorway.
Only half his face visible.
But I recognized the tattoo.
Three black dots.
My blood ran cold.
“Michael.”
Collins took the photograph.
“That's not Michael.”
“How do you know?”
“Because the man in this photograph is older.”
She zoomed in.
The man's face was partially visible.
The same jaw.
The same eyes.
The same three-dot tattoo.
But older.
Much older.
“Who is he?”
Collins stared at the photograph.
Then whispered:
“Your father.”
I couldn't speak.
“My father had that tattoo?”
“Apparently.”
“He never did.”
“Maybe he removed it.”
I looked at the image.
“No.”
“What?”
“My father died in 2010.”
“I know.”
“He died before Michael admitted he had the tattoo.”
Collins nodded.
“Which means…”
She didn't finish.
I did.
“Michael got the tattoo from him.”
Silence.
Then the lights flickered.
A voice came through the speakers.
“Very good, Daniel.”
Michael.
I looked up.
“Where is my daughter?”
“She wants to see you.”
“Put her on.”
A few seconds passed.
Then Lily's voice.
“Daddy?”
“Lily!”
“I'm okay.”
“Where are you?”
“I don't know.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Who is with you?”
She hesitated.
“Mommy.”
My chest tightened.
“Lily…”
“She's here.”
“That's impossible.”
“I can see her.”
I looked at Collins.
Her face had gone pale.
“Lily, listen to me.”
“Okay.”
“Tell me what she looks like.”
Silence.
“She looks like Mommy.”
I closed my eyes.
“Lily…”
Then another voice came through.
Anna.
“Daniel.”
I almost cried.
“Anna?”
“I knew you'd come.”
“Where are you?”
“You've been looking in the wrong place.”
“Where?”
“Home.”
I froze.
“What?”
“Everything you need is in the house.”
“Where?”
“In my office.”
“We searched it.”
“No.”
Her voice became softer.
“You searched what was left.”
“What does that mean?”
“The wall.”
I looked at Collins.
“What wall?”
“The wall behind the bookshelf.”
My heart stopped.
“Anna, are you alive?”
Silence.
Then:
“You know the answer.”
The transmission ended.
I stared at the speaker.
Collins grabbed her radio.
“We need units at Daniel's house.”
“No.”
She looked at me.
“What?”
“Michael wants us there.”
“Exactly.”
“Then that's where Lily is.”
“Or where he wants us to think she is.”
I shook my head.
“Anna told me to check the wall.”
“Daniel…”
“If there's evidence there, we need it.”
“We can't go alone.”
“I'm not going alone.”
I looked at her.
“You're coming.”
She hesitated.
Then nodded.
Twenty minutes later, we reached my house.
The front door was open.
I hadn't left it open.
Collins drew her weapon.
“Stay behind me.”
We entered.
The house was dark.
Everything looked normal.
Too normal.
No broken windows.
No overturned furniture.
No signs of forced entry.
Then I noticed something.
A family photograph had been moved.
It was hanging slightly crooked.
I walked toward it.
Behind the frame was a small hole.
Inside was a piece of paper.
I pulled it out.
Anna's handwriting.
You were nine when they took him.
My hands shook.
I read the next line.
You were fourteen when they brought him back.
Then:
But the boy who returned was not Elias.
I stopped.
Collins looked at me.
“What does it say?”
I handed her the paper.
Her face tightened.
Then I saw something else.
A second sentence had been written underneath.
And Daniel, you helped them choose him.
I stepped backward.
“No.”
My mind suddenly flashed.
A room.
A red door.
A frightened boy.
Someone asking me:
“Which one is your brother?”
I couldn't breathe.
There were two boys.
Two identical faces.
One was Elias.
The other was someone else.
And a child's voice.
Mine.
Saying:
“That one.”
I grabbed my head.
A memory.
Not a dream.
A memory.
I saw myself pointing toward the boy.
The boy who would become Michael.
Then I heard my own nine-year-old voice.
“He looks like Elias.”
I screamed.
Collins caught me before I fell.
“Daniel!”
I pushed her away.
“I remember.”
“What?”
“I remember the room.”
“What room?”
“The red door.”
“What happened?”
I looked at her.
“There were two boys.”
She froze.
“Two?”
I nodded.
“One was Elias.”
“And the other?”
“I don't know.”
“What did you do?”
I swallowed.
“I chose him.”
Collins stared at me.
“Why?”
“Because someone told me…”
I struggled to breathe.
“They told me if I chose wrong…”
“What?”
“They would kill Lily.”
Collins' face went white.
“Lily wasn't even born in 2005.”
I stared at her.
“I know.”
“Then how could they threaten her?”
I had no answer.
Until I remembered something else.
A photograph.
Anna.
Pregnant.
Standing beside the red door.
The date was 2005.
Before Lily was born.
My heart stopped.
I looked toward the wall behind Anna's bookshelf.
“Help me move it.”
Collins and I pushed the shelf aside.
Behind it was a red door.
The same door.
My hand trembled as I inserted the silver key.
Click.
The door opened.
Inside was a small room.
A child's bed.
Old photographs.
Medical equipment.
And on the wall were dozens of pictures of Lily.
From infancy.
From school.
From our home.
But there was one photograph in the center.
Anna.
Alive.
Holding a newborn baby.
And beside her stood my father.
Behind them was another man.
Michael.
But this time he wasn't smiling.
He was holding a document.
I stepped closer.
At the bottom of the photograph was a date.
July 3, 2006.
One year after the supposed death of Elias.
My hands went numb.
Then I saw the baby.
A small hospital bracelet.
I zoomed in.
The name on it was clear.
LILY CARTER.
And beneath her name:
SUBJECT 17.
I stared at the photograph.
Lily had been part of this before she was even born.
Then a sound came from the darkness behind us.
A child's voice.
“Daddy?”
I turned.
Lily was standing in the doorway.
Alive.
Alone.
I rushed toward her.
“Lily!”
I pulled her into my arms.
“Where have you been?”
She cried.
“I came home.”
“Who brought you?”
She pointed behind me.
I turned.
Nobody.
Then she whispered:
“Mommy.”
I looked at the red door.
And on the wall behind it, someone had written a sentence in fresh red paint:
THE WOMAN YOU SAW IS NOT ANNA.
My blood ran cold.
Because at that exact moment, my phone rang.
May you like
The caller ID said:
ANNA CARTER.
