Chapter 2: The Woman in the Photograph
I stared at the photograph until the pixels blurred.
My father was younger in it. Much younger. Maybe thirty-five. His hair was darker, his shoulders broader, and there was a careless smile on his face I hadn't seen in years.
Beside him stood a woman.
She looked directly at the camera.
One hand rested against my father's chest.
The other cradled a baby wrapped in a pale blue blanket.
My baby.
At least, that was what my mind insisted.
I zoomed in.
The woman had dark hair pulled over one shoulder, high cheekbones, and a tiny scar near her left eyebrow.
I had never seen her in any family photograph.
Never heard her name.
Never been told she existed.
My thumb hovered over the unknown number.
I typed:
*Who are you?*
Three dots appeared almost immediately.
Then disappeared.
Then appeared again.
Finally, a message arrived.
*Someone who tried to tell your father the truth twenty-nine years ago.*
I swallowed.
*What truth?*
The reply came back.
*That you were never supposed to leave the hospital with him.*
I stood so quickly that the kitchen chair scraped across the floor.
My first instinct was to go upstairs and wake Natalie.
My second was to call Dad.
I chose Dad.
The call rang four times before going to voicemail.
“Dad, it's me. Call me back. Right away.””
I hung up.
Then I called again.
Straight to voicemail.
Something was wrong.
Not because he wasn't answering.
Because my father always answered.
He had once left a wedding reception to answer my call because I'd sounded upset about a flat tire.
He had answered during a funeral.
He had answered while standing on a roof in the middle of a thunderstorm.
Something in my stomach tightened.
I looked toward the stairs.
Natalie was still upstairs.
I grabbed my keys.
I made it halfway to the front door before she appeared.
“Where are you going?””
I turned.
“Dad isn't answering.””
Natalie leaned against the banister.
“He probably doesn't want to deal with this tonight.””
“This?””
She gave me a look.
“You know what I mean.””
“No, actually, I don't.””
She came down two steps.
“Your father came here asking for a thousand dollars, refused to explain why, and then pulled you outside so you could have a secret conversation.””
“It wasn't a secret conversation.””
“You literally told me not to listen.””
“I told you to give him privacy.””
Natalie crossed her arms.
“What did he say?””
I paused.
I could still hear the stranger's warning in my head.
Your father doesn't know who's watching him.
“I need to check on him.””
Her expression hardened.
“Grant, don't turn this into another one of your father's emergencies.””
I stared at her.
“Another?””
“You know exactly what I mean.””
“No. Explain it.””
She sighed.
“Every few months there's something. A repair. A bill.
A crisis. Somehow you're always the son who has to fix it.””
“He didn't come asking for money until today.””
“And you gave it to him without even knowing what it was for.””
“He needed it.””
“You don't know that.””
“Yes, I do.””
“How?””
“Because he's my father.””
She looked at me for several seconds.
Then she said quietly, “That's not an answer.””
Something about her tone bothered me.
Not concern.
Not anger.
Certainty.
As if she knew more than she was admitting.
I stepped closer.
“Have you talked to Dad recently?””
“No.””
“Are you sure?””
Natalie blinked.
“Why would I lie about that?””
“I don't know.””
Her face changed.
It was subtle.
A tightening around the eyes.
A small pause before she answered.
“I haven't spoken to him.””
I nodded.
“Okay.””
I opened the door.
“Grant.””
I looked back.
She came down the remaining stairs.
“Don't go over there tonight.””
“Why?””
“Because it's almost eight.””
“So?””
“So if something is actually wrong, he'll call.””
I stared at her.
She held my gaze.
Then she added, “And if it's just another attempt to make you feel guilty, you don't have to fall for it.””
I left.
My father's truck wasn't at his house.
The driveway was empty.
His porch light was off.
I knocked anyway.
“Dad?””
Nothing.
I knocked harder.
“Dad!””
Silence.
I tried the doorknob.
Unlocked.
My father never left his door unlocked.
I stepped inside.
The house smelled like sawdust, coffee, and the cedar oil he used on his old furniture.
“Dad?””
No answer.
I checked the kitchen.
His coffee mug was on the table.
Half full.
Cold.
A pair of reading glasses sat beside it.
A file folder was open near the edge of the table.
My pulse quickened.
I walked over.
Inside were photocopies of documents.
Hospital records.
A county seal.
A legal form with several paragraphs blacked out.
Then I saw my name.
*GRANT MERCER*
I pulled the papers out.
The top page was dated six years after I was born.
Under “Reason for Amendment,” one sentence had been circled in red ink.
*Correction of parentage information.*
I stopped breathing.
I flipped to the next page.
There was a handwritten note in my father's unmistakable block letters.
*He was six when they changed it.*
My hands began to shake.
Another note was underneath.
*I was told to sign.*
I sat down.
I read it twice.
Then a third time.
Six years old.
Changed parentage information.
Dad was told to sign.
What did that mean?
I pulled out my phone and photographed every page.
Then I heard something outside.
A car door.
I froze.
Headlights swept across the living room wall.
Someone was pulling into the driveway.
I shoved the papers back into the folder and stood.
The car engine shut off.
Footsteps approached the porch.
Three knocks.
Not loud.
Measured.
I moved toward the hallway.
“Dad?””
The front door opened.
I nearly stepped backward.
A woman stood there.
Dark hair.
High cheekbones.
A tiny scar near her left eyebrow.
The woman from the photograph.
She was older now, but there was no mistaking her.
She looked past me into the house.
Then her eyes met mine.
“Oh my God,” she whispered.
I couldn't speak.
She covered her mouth.
“You look exactly like him.””
I finally found my voice.
“Who are you?””
She closed the door behind her.
“My name is Evelyn.””
“Evelyn what?””
“Evelyn Cole.””
The name meant nothing.
I looked at the folder.
“Do you know my father?””
She nodded.
“I knew Raymond before you were born.””
“What happened to him?””
Her face tightened.
“He went to get the records.””
“What records?””
She didn't answer.
“Where is he?””
“I don't know.””
My heart sank.
“What do you mean, you don't know?””
“I mean I haven't been able to reach him.””
“You came here because of him?””
“I came because of you.””
I stepped back.
“That doesn't make any sense.””
“It will.””
She looked at the folder.
“You found them.””
“I found what?””
“The amended records.””
“How do you know about those?””
She stared at me.
“Because I watched them change.””
My skin went cold.
“Who changed them?””
She shook her head.
“Not here.””
“Why not?””
“Because your wife is listening.””
I turned toward the hallway.
Evelyn grabbed my wrist.
“Don't.””
I pulled away.
“What are you talking about?””
Her voice dropped.
“There's a black SUV parked across the street.””
I looked through the front window.
She was right.
A black SUV sat beneath a dead streetlamp.
Engine off.
Windows tinted.
My heart began pounding.
“Maybe it's a neighbor.””
Evelyn shook her head.
“No.””
“How do you know?””
“Because it was behind me when I left your father’s house.””
I looked at her.
“Where was he?””
She hesitated.
“At a storage facility.””
“Why?””
“He kept something there.””
“What?””
“Proof.””
“Proof of what?””
She opened her mouth.
Her phone rang.
She glanced at the screen.
Her expression collapsed.
“What?””
I asked.
She didn't answer.
She listened.
Then her face went white.
“Is he alive?””
Silence.
“Hello?””
The call ended.
“Evelyn?””
She looked at me.
“They found him.””
“Where?””
She swallowed.
“The hospital.””
My chest tightened.
“What happened?””
“They said he collapsed.””
“Is he okay?””
“I don't know.””
“What did they say?””
She looked toward the window.
Then back at me.
“They said he's being prepared for emergency surgery.””
My phone rang before I could respond.
Hospital.
I answered immediately.
“Hello?””
A man's voice came through.
“Is this Grant Mercer?””
“Yes.””
“This is St. Vincent Medical Center. Your father, Raymond Mercer, has been admitted.””
I gripped the phone.
“Is he conscious?””
There was a pause.
“Not at the moment.””
“What happened?””
“He experienced a medical emergency. The surgical team is with him now.””
“I’m coming.””
“Mr. Mercer?””
“Yes?””
“There is something you need to know.””
I stopped.
“What?””
“Your father arrived carrying a sealed envelope.””
My eyes moved slowly toward Evelyn.
“He left instructions that it was to be given directly to you.””
“Okay.””
“He was very specific.””
“About what?””
The nurse lowered her voice.
“He told us not to let your wife see it.””
My blood went cold.
I looked at Evelyn.
She was already staring at me.
And then my phone received another message from the unknown number.
*Grant, get to the hospital before Natalie does.*
I heard the front door click shut.
Evelyn and I both turned.
May you like
Natalie was standing in the doorway.
And she was holding my father's brass key.
