Chapter 6: The Name on the Paper
The name stared back at me from the tiny scrap of paper.
*GRANT MERCER.*
My own name.
For a moment, I wondered whether I had finally lost my grip on reality.
I looked at Natalie.
She was staring at the paper too.
“Where did that come from?”” I asked.
Her lips parted.
“I don't know.””
“You're holding it.””
“I found it inside the drive.””
“You said the drive was your father's.””
“It was.””
“And this was inside?””
“Yes.””
I took the paper from her.
The handwriting was my father's.
I knew it as well as I knew my own.
The heavy downward stroke on the G.
The cramped letters.
The slight tilt to the right.
I turned it over.
Nothing.
Just my name.
Evelyn stepped closer.
“Give it to me.””
I handed it over.
She looked at it and immediately shook her head.
“No.””
“What?””
“That isn't Raymond's handwriting.””
I stared at her.
“It is.””
“No.””
She held the paper closer to the porch light.
“Look at the M.””
I did.
The first stroke was higher.
Different.
Evelyn pointed to the final R.
“Raymond always looped this line. Whoever wrote this doesn't.””
I looked again.
She was right.
The handwriting looked like my father's.
But it wasn't.
A cold sensation moved through my chest.
“Then whose handwriting is it?””
Evelyn didn't answer.
My phone was still pressed against my ear.
The nurse's voice came through again.
“Mr. Mercer?””
“I'm here.””
“Your father keeps asking for you.””
“What exactly did he say?””
She hesitated.
“He keeps saying, ‘Not the hospital. Don't bring him here.’”
I frowned.
“What?””
A long pause.
“Mr. Mercer, I may have misunderstood him.””
“What did he say?””
“He said, ‘They know the hospital.’”
I looked at Evelyn.
She understood immediately.
“We need to move,” she said.
I hung up.
Natalie grabbed my sleeve.
“Move where?””
“Somewhere he can’t find us.””
“Elliot?””
I nodded.
Then I saw the black SUV at the end of the street.
Its headlights were gone.
The driver's door was open.
No one was inside.
“He left,” Natalie whispered.
“No.””
Evelyn looked toward the side gate.
“He wants us to think he left.””
A metallic sound came from the front of the house.
The unmistakable scrape of a key entering a lock.
Natalie grabbed my hand.
“Run.””
We moved.
Not toward the house.
Toward the old shed.
My father had built it twenty years earlier from leftover construction materials. Inside was a narrow access door that opened onto the alley behind the property.
Evelyn reached it first.
She pulled the handle.
Locked.
She cursed under her breath.
“What?””
“Raymond changed the lock.””
I reached for the brass key in my pocket.
The one Natalie had brought from his truck.
I pushed it into the lock.
It turned.
The door opened.
We slipped into the alley just as the front door of the house slammed open.
Elliot called out.
“Grant!””
I didn't look back.
We ran.
The rain had turned the pavement slick. My shoes splashed through puddles as we cut between two rows of garages.
Natalie was breathing hard behind me.
“Where are we going?””
“To my car.””
“No.””
Evelyn grabbed my arm.
“Not your car.””
“Why?””
“Because if they know your house, they know your vehicle.””
She was right.
I looked around.
“Then what?””
“Walk.””
“What?””
“Two blocks. There's a diner.””
“We can't hide in a diner.””
“We don't need to hide.””
She pointed down the alley.
“We need to disappear.””
We crossed the next street on foot and reached a twenty-four-hour diner glowing beneath a flickering neon sign.
Inside, the air smelled like coffee, bacon, and wet coats.
Nobody looked twice at us.
We took a booth in the back.
Natalie slid in beside me.
Evelyn sat opposite.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Natalie said, “We need to call the police.””
Evelyn shook her head.
“Why?””
“Because someone broke into a house.””
“No.””
“A man is stalking us.””
“No.””
“He threatened us.””
“No.””
Natalie slammed her palm on the table.
“Then what exactly are we supposed to do?””
Evelyn looked at her.
“Find Raymond's evidence before Elliot does.””
I stared.
“Where?””
Evelyn pointed to the paper in my hand.
“It's telling us something.””
“My name?””
“Yes.””
“That makes no sense.””
“It does if the name is a key.””
I frowned.
“What kind of key?””
She leaned closer.
“Twenty-nine years ago, Raymond gave you a number.””
“What number?””
“Not a phone number.””
She watched my face.
“A locker number.””
I searched my memory.
Nothing.
Then something surfaced.
A childhood memory.
My father kneeling beside my bed.
It was after my sixth birthday.
He had been holding a small metal box.
I remembered the box because it had three numbers scratched into the lid.
*4-1-8.*
My breath caught.
“Unit 418.””
Evelyn nodded.
“What do you remember?””
I told her.
My voice sounded distant as I spoke.
“I was six. Dad gave me a small box. He said it belonged to me.””
“What was inside?””
“I don't know.””
“You opened it?””
“No.””
“Why not?””
“He told me I could when I was older.””
Natalie looked at me.
“Did you ever see the box again?””
I shook my head.
“Not until years later.””
“When?””
“When I was nineteen. Dad was moving out of the old house. I saw it in a cardboard box.””
“What did you do?””
“I asked him about it.””
“What did he say?””
I closed my eyes.
“He said, ‘Some things are safer forgotten.’”
Evelyn whispered, “That was the moment.””
“What moment?””
“The moment Raymond realized you had started remembering.””
I looked at her.
“Remembering what?””
She hesitated.
“Your brother.””
I pushed back from the table.
“I don't remember a brother.””
“You don't remember because someone made sure you wouldn't.””
“Hypnosis?””
“No.””
“Then what?””
“Medication.””
The word made me go still.
Evelyn folded her hands.
“You were sick when you were six. After the incident, doctors gave you sedatives for several days.””
“And?””
“And Raymond later discovered that someone had altered your medical records.””
“For what purpose?””
“To make it appear that you were suffering from memory problems.””
Natalie shook her head.
“That doesn't prove anything.””
Evelyn looked at her.
“You saw the records.””
Natalie said nothing.
I turned toward her.
“Did you?””
She finally nodded.
“Yes.””
“How bad were they?””
Her eyes glistened.
“They were extensive.””
“How extensive?””
“There were medications listed that you never told me about.””
“What medications?””
She swallowed.
“Sedatives. Antipsychotic medication. Memory suppressants.””
My stomach twisted.
“I was six.””
“I know.””
“Why would anyone give a six-year-old those drugs?””
“Because they needed your testimony to disappear.””
I leaned back.
“What testimony?””
Evelyn looked around the diner before answering.
“You saw something.””
“What?””
She shook her head.
“That's what Raymond was trying to recover.””
I stared at the table.
A memory flashed.
A white hallway.
A bright ceiling light.
Someone crying.
A woman holding my hand.
A little boy behind glass.
I blinked.
Gone.
I grabbed my head.
“What the hell was that?””
Natalie touched my shoulder.
“Grant?””
I pulled away.
“I remembered something.””
Evelyn went still.
“What?””
“I don't know.””
I closed my eyes.
“There was a hallway.””
“Where?””
“A hospital.””
“Anything else?””
“A boy.””
Natalie stopped breathing.
I looked at her.
“You know something.””
“No.””
“You reacted.””
“I was surprised.””
“By what?””
She looked toward Evelyn.
Evelyn's expression suddenly became grim.
“Grant,” she said, “don't force the memory.””
“Why?””
“Because whoever erased it may have left something dangerous behind.””
“Like what?””
Before she could answer, my phone buzzed.
A new message.
Unknown number.
I opened it.
There was a photograph.
It showed a hospital corridor.
The same white hallway from my memory.
A little boy stood at the end.
Six years old.
Dark hair.
Blue shirt.
And beside him stood my father.
I zoomed in.
The boy's face was partially turned toward the camera.
But I knew him.
Not because I remembered his face.
Because I recognized the scar above his eyebrow.
The exact same scar I had.
I looked at Evelyn.
“My brother.””
She nodded.
“That’s him.””
Another message appeared.
*His name was Daniel.*
Then another.
*He was taken because Raymond refused to sell you both.*
My blood ran cold.
Natalie looked at the screen.
“Who is sending these?””
I didn't answer.
The phone buzzed again.
This time the message contained no photograph.
Only an address.
*St. Matthew's Children's Home. Room 12.*
Beneath it:
*Ask Natalie what happened there.*
I slowly raised my eyes.
Natalie had gone completely pale.
“What happened there?”” I asked.
She shook her head.
“Nothing.””
“Then why did someone send me that?””
“I don't know.””
“Were you there?””
She looked at the table.
“Natalie.””
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Yes.””
My chest tightened.
“When?””
She whispered:
“Before we met.””
“What did you do there?””
She covered her mouth.
I waited.
Finally, she looked at me.
“I went there looking for Daniel.””
“Why?””
“Because someone hired me.””
“Who?””
She didn't answer.
“Who hired you?””
Her voice cracked.
“Your father.””
I stared at her.
“My father hired my future wife to find my missing brother before we ever met.””
She nodded.
“And what did you find?””
Natalie's tears fell.
“I found a room with your name on the door.””
I couldn't breathe.
“What was inside?””
She looked directly at me.
“A child.””
I felt my body go numb.
“Who?””
She whispered:
“Daniel.””
Before I could speak, my phone rang again.
The caller ID was the hospital.
I answered.
“Hello?””
A woman's voice was trembling.
“Mr. Mercer, I'm so sorry.””
My stomach dropped.
“What happened?””
“Your father is awake.””
Relief hit me.
“But there's a problem.””
“What problem?””
“The police are here.””
I frowned.
“Why?””
“Because someone just reported that a man matching your father's description was seen leaving this hospital.””
I looked at Evelyn.
“What?””
The nurse continued.
“And, Mr. Mercer…”
“Yes?””
“The sealed envelope is missing.””
Then I heard a man's voice in the background.
Calm.
Familiar.
Elliot Voss.
May you like
“Tell Grant his father never made it to the operating room.””
The call went dead.
