Chapter 9: The Name in the Bible
The emergency lights came on.
Red.
Then white.
Then red again.
My mother's heart monitor began screaming.
“Mom!””
Nurses rushed into the room.
“Step back!””
I moved aside as they crowded around her.
“She's losing pressure!””
A doctor shouted for medication.
I stood frozen.
Natalie grabbed my arm.
“Grant.””
“I'm here.””
“No.””
She pointed toward the hallway.
“Look.””
A man in dark clothes was walking away from the room.
I ran.
“Hey!””
He turned.
For one second, I saw his face.
Older.
Gray hair.
A scar above his eyebrow.
Then he disappeared through the stairwell.
I chased him down two flights.
By the time I reached the exit, he was gone.
I pushed through the doors.
The parking lot was almost empty.
A black sedan sped away.
I memorized the license plate.
Then my phone rang.
Priya.
“Grant, come back upstairs.””
“Someone was here.””
“I know.””
“He came for Mom.””
“Come back.””
I returned to the room.
Mom was stable.
Barely.
The doctor pulled me aside.
“She needs rest.””
“Someone tampered with the room.””
“We're investigating.””
“Someone shut down the monitors.””
“I understand.””
“No. You don't.””
I pointed toward the hallway.
“Someone came here looking for her.””
The doctor looked concerned.
“Security is already reviewing the cameras.””
Priya came toward me.
“Your mother asked for you.””
I entered the room.
Mom's eyes opened.
“Nathan.””
“I'm here.””
“Did you see him?””
“Who?””
She shook her head.
“The man.””
“Who was he?””
She whispered a name.
“Thomas.””
Natalie stepped into the room.
“Thomas Hale?””
Mom shook her head.
“Not your Thomas.””
I frowned.
“My Thomas?””
“Your grandfather.””
I froze.
“He's dead.””
Mom looked at me.
“No.””
The word was barely audible.
“What?””
“He disappeared.””
“Mom, his funeral—”
“A body was buried.””
My heart stopped.
“But it wasn't him.””
Priya went still.
“Are you sure?””
“I saw him.””
“When?””
“Last year.””
My mouth went dry.
“Why didn't you tell me?””
“Because he came to my apartment.””
“What did he want?””
“He wanted the Bible.””
I felt cold.
“The Bible?””
“Yes.””
“What did you tell him?””
“That I had given it to you.””
Mom looked at Natalie.
“He didn't believe me.””
I stared at my mother.
“Why didn't he take it?””
“Because he thought I was lying.””
“And you weren't.””
“No.””
“Where is he now?””
“I don't know.””
I looked at Priya.
“We need to go home.””
Natalie shook her head.
“No.””
“Why?””
“Because the Bible isn't there.””
“What?””
“I moved it.””
“When?””
“Before the break-in.””
“Where?””
She looked at me.
“My mother's house.””
“Your mother is dead.””
“I know.””
“Then where?””
Natalie reached into her purse.
She pulled out a key.
“My grandmother's storage unit.””
I stared.
“You had this the entire time?””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
“Because I didn't know who to trust.””
I almost laughed.
“That's rich.””
“I know.””
“Everyone knew something except me.””
Natalie lowered her eyes.
“I wanted to tell you.””
“You should have.””
“I was scared.””
“So was Mom.””
Natalie nodded.
“And so was I.””
Priya interrupted.
“We don't have time.””
She looked at me.
“If Thomas is alive, he may be looking for the Bible.””
“Then let's get there first.””
The storage facility was twenty minutes from the hospital.
We arrived just before midnight.
Rows of metal doors stretched beneath harsh security lights.
Natalie unlocked Unit 317.
The door rolled upward.
Inside were boxes.
Dozens of them.
Family photographs.
Old clothing.
Documents.
A wooden trunk.
Natalie walked toward it.
“My grandmother kept everything.””
She opened the trunk.
At the bottom was the Bible.
Brown leather.
Worn edges.
A brass clasp.
I picked it up.
My hands were shaking.
“This was given to me on my wedding day.””
Natalie nodded.
“Open the spine.””
I remembered Mom's voice.
I turned the Bible over.
There was a seam along the leather binding.
Priya handed me a small knife.
I carefully opened the lining.
A thin envelope slid out.
Inside was a birth record.
Not a photocopy.
An original.
Two infant names.
*Nathan Hale.*
*Grant Mercer.*
Both marked alive.
Both marked discharged.
Neither marked deceased.
I looked at Natalie.
“This proves it.””
She nodded.
“There was more.””
I pulled out another document.
A bank transfer.
Thomas Hale.
Payment to Evelyn Cross.
October 13, 1989.
The day before our birth.
My hands went numb.
“That's the payment.””
Priya took photographs of every page.
Then she froze.
“Grant.””
“What?””
“Look at the account.””
I did.
The transfer hadn't come from Thomas Hale personally.
It came from a company.
*Mercer-Hale Holdings.*
My grandfather's company.
I turned another page.
A handwritten ledger.
Names.
Payments.
Dates.
At the bottom was a note:
*After the switch, Daniel must be handled. Rebecca must be silenced. Nathan must remain Mercer.*
I felt sick.
“Remain Mercer.””
Priya nodded.
“That confirms your mother wasn't the person who arranged it.””
“No.””
I turned another page.
There was a final name.
Not my grandfather.
Not Thomas.
Not Evelyn.
A name I recognized immediately.
*Daniel Mercer.*
I stared.
“What?””
Natalie leaned closer.
“Why is your father listed?””
Below his name was a payment.
The amount was enormous.
The date was October 20, 1989.
One week after our birth.
Beside it was a handwritten note.
*Paid for cooperation.*
I couldn't breathe.
“My father took money?””
Priya looked at the document.
“That's what it appears to say.””
“But Mom said he was trying to expose them.””
“Maybe he was.””
“Then why was he paid?””
We heard a noise outside.
A car door.
Then footsteps.
Slow.
Coming toward the storage unit.
Natalie grabbed my arm.
“Someone followed us.””
The footsteps stopped.
A shadow appeared beneath the door.
Then a man's voice.
“Grant.””
I knew it immediately.
The voice from the phone.
The man who claimed to know my father.
He spoke again.
“Put the Bible on the floor.””
Priya whispered, “Don't.””
The man continued.
“You've been lied to by everyone.””
I looked at the documents.
“Who are you?””
Silence.
Then:
“Your father.””
The world stopped.
Natalie covered her mouth.
Priya's face went white.
I stepped toward the door.
“Daniel?””
“Yes.””
“You're alive?””
“I've been alive for thirty-seven years.””
“Why did you leave us?””
His voice cracked.
“Because I was forced to.””
“By whom?””
A pause.
“By the person standing closest to you.””
I looked at Natalie.
She stared back, horrified.
“Who?””
Daniel said,
“Your mother.””
My blood ran cold.
“No.””
“She didn't tell you everything.””
I looked at the documents again.
The payment to Daniel.
The hidden records.
The Bible.
Everything seemed to contradict itself.
Then Daniel spoke again.
“Grant, open the Bible to the last page.””
I turned it over.
The final page contained a photograph.
A photograph of my mother.
Standing outside a courthouse.
Beside her was a newborn baby.
And next to them stood a man.
Daniel.
Alive.
But that wasn't what made my blood run cold.
The date was printed beneath the photograph.
*October 21, 1989.*
Six days after the hospital switch.
Six days after my father was supposedly gone.
On the back, Mom had written one sentence:
*I did what Daniel asked—but I never told him what I had done with the other child.*
I looked at the storage-unit door.
“Mom lied to you too.””
Daniel's voice became almost a whisper.
“Yes.””
“Why?””
“Because she thought she was protecting you.””
“From whom?””
There was a long silence.
Then Daniel said:
“From me.””
The storage-unit lights suddenly went out.
May you like
And in the darkness, Natalie screamed.
Someone had grabbed her from behind.
