Chapter 12 - The Man Sophia RememberedI sat beside Sophia that night.
She was awake.
Her stuffed unicorn rested in her lap.
"Sophia."
"Yes, Daddy?"
"Can I ask you something?"
She nodded.
"Do you remember the man you saw?"
She looked at me.
"The man who came to our house?"
"Yes."
She nodded.
"What did he look like?"
She thought.
"Like Daddy."
My heart stopped.
"But not Daddy."
I carefully asked:
"What was different?"
"He had a scar."
I looked at Daniel.
He immediately understood.
"Where?"
Sophia touched the left side of her jaw.
"Here."
Daniel went still.
His brother had a scar there.
I remembered the photograph again.
My wife's killer had looked like me.
Daniel's brother had looked like me.
And his brother had worked for Black Harbor.
"What's his name?" I asked.
Sophia whispered:
"Andrew."
Daniel stepped backward.
"No."
I looked at him.
"Andrew Mercer?"
He nodded.
"My brother."
"Is he alive?"
Daniel didn't answer.
"Is he alive?"
"He should have died twelve years ago."
A voice came from the doorway.
Sarah.
"He didn't."
We turned.
Sarah was holding a photograph.
She placed it on the table.
A recent photograph.
Andrew Mercer.
Alive.
Standing beside Nathan Cole.
I looked at the date.
Three days earlier.
My blood ran cold.
"Where did you get this?"
"Sarah found it."
"No."
She shook her head.
"I found it in Cole's office."
"Why were you there?"
"I followed him."
"You were spying on him?"
"I wanted Lucas back."
She started crying.
"They were never going to let me leave."
I looked at the photograph.
Andrew.
Cole.
And behind them...
A woman.
My wife.
Older photograph.
Same face.
Same eyes.
But alive.
The date was impossible.
Taken eight months after her supposed death.
I stared at Daniel.
"That's not possible."
Daniel walked closer.
He studied the image.
Then he whispered:
"That's not your wife."
"What?"
He pointed.
"The necklace."
I looked closer.
My wife always wore a silver pendant with a tiny blue stone.
The woman in the photograph wore gold.
"Then who is she?"
Daniel's face drained of color.
"Her sister."
I stared.
"My wife never had a sister."
Daniel looked at me.
"According to official records."
Silence.
Then the secure phone rang.
I answered.
A distorted voice spoke.
"Colonel Reed."
"Who is this?"
"You've spent twelve years searching for the wrong dead woman."
The line clicked.
Then one final message appeared.
COME TO CHICAGO. ALONE.
Underneath was a photograph of Sophia asleep.
And another photograph of my wife.
May you like
Standing beside Andrew Mercer.
Alive.
