Chapter 4: The Brother Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
For several seconds, I couldn't hear anything except the blood pounding in my ears.
My brother.
Nathan Whitaker.
The boy who had taught me to ride a bicycle. The teenager who had taken the blame when I broke our father's antique watch. The man who had once stood beside me at our mother's funeral and promised that no matter what happened, the Whitaker brothers would never turn against each other.
Dead for six years.
I had identified his body myself.
Or at least, I believed I had.
“Margaret,” I said slowly, “repeat what you just told me.””
The woman on the phone was breathing unevenly.
“Mr. Whitaker, I know how impossible this sounds.””
“You're telling me my brother was in the room with my wife the night before she died?””
“Yes.””
“That isn't possible.””
“I saw him.””
“You saw a man who looked like him.””
“No, sir. I knew Nathan. I cared for him before he disappeared.
He had a small crescent-shaped scar beneath his left ear. I saw it that night.””
I closed my eyes.
Nathan had that scar.
He had received it when we were teenagers, after falling through a glass door during one of our father's infamous parties.
Nobody outside the family knew about it.
“Where are you?”” I asked.
“I can't tell you over the phone.””
“Then meet me.””
“I can't come to the house.””
“Why?””
“Because Vanessa knows I'm alive.””
I looked toward Miriam.
She was already typing something into her phone.
“Margaret, listen carefully. You're under my protection now.””
A bitter laugh escaped her.
“That is what Elena said.””
The words struck harder than I expected.
“What?””
“Your wife told me you would protect me. She said you were a good man underneath everything else.””
I swallowed.
“And you believed her?””
“I did. But she also told me something else.””
“What?””
“That if I ever heard your brother's name again, I should never trust anyone wearing a Whitaker security uniform.””
My eyes moved instinctively toward the hallway.
Dominic.
“Margaret, where is the recording?””
“I'll send you a location. Come alone.””
“No.””
“Then you won't find it.””
The call ended.
A moment later, a message appeared.
An address.
An abandoned roadside motel outside Hartford.
I showed it to Miriam.
She studied the screen.
“This could be a trap.””
“I know.””
“We need law enforcement.””
“Then we'll bring law enforcement.””
She nodded.
“First, we secure the children.””
I looked toward the nursery.
Behind its walls was something Elena had wanted me to find.
And if Nathan was alive, there was a very good chance he wanted me to find it for entirely different reasons.
At 3:20 p.m., I entered the children's bedroom.
Sophie sat on the rug with Caleb.
They were building a tower from wooden blocks.
Caleb's rabbit sat beside them.
The tower collapsed when I opened the door.
He looked up.
“Daddy!””
This time, he ran toward me.
I caught him and lifted him into my arms.
Sophie remained on the floor.
I sat beside her.
“Sweetheart, can I ask you something?””
She nodded.
“Have you ever heard Vanessa mention Uncle Nathan?””
Her expression changed immediately.
She looked toward the door.
Then she whispered, “The man with the black watch?””
My heart stopped.
“What man?””
“He comes when you're not here.””
Caleb began arranging blocks again.
Sophie leaned closer.
“He doesn't knock. He uses the side door.””
“When did you last see him?””
“Two nights ago.””
“What did he do?””
She rubbed her thumb against the edge of her sleeve.
“He asked Vanessa if she had found Mommy's little box.””
“What did she say?””
“She said she was looking.””
I kept my voice gentle.
“Did he speak to you?””
Sophie nodded.
“He asked if I remembered him.””
“And what did you say?””
“I said no.””
“Why?””
“Because he smiled, Daddy.””
She looked at me.
“But his eyes weren't smiling.””
A chill settled over me.
I kissed the top of her head.
“You did the right thing.””
Then she reached into the pocket of her cardigan.
She removed a small folded piece of paper.
“I found this in Mommy's room.””
I opened it.
It was a photograph.
Elena stood beside Nathan at a summer garden party, both smiling toward the camera.
But it wasn't the photograph that frightened me.
It was the writing on the back.
For my two favorite Whitaker boys. Remember, family is supposed to mean something.
Elena had written it six years earlier.
I turned the photograph over.
Sophie pointed toward Nathan.
“Is that the man who comes at night?””
“Yes.””
She stared at the picture.
“Then why does everyone say he's dead?””
I had no answer.
Not one I could give a seven-year-old.
At 4:05 p.m., Miriam and I entered the nursery.
Two investigators waited outside while a forensic technician photographed the room.
I had spent millions renovating this house, but Elena had designed the nursery herself.
Soft blue walls.
White curtains.
A painted moon above Caleb's crib.
A wooden bookshelf filled with children's stories.
Nothing looked unusual.
Miriam examined the room.
“Where would she hide something?””
I stood beside the bookshelf.
“Elena believed children deserved a little magic. She used to hide birthday presents in strange places.””
I looked at the wall behind the crib.
There was a small framed painting of a sailboat.
I removed it.
Behind it was a rectangular outline.
The paint around the edges looked newer.
“Get the technician,” I said.
A few minutes later, he examined the wall.
“Mr. Whitaker, there's a hollow section behind this panel.””
He carefully removed the decorative covering.
Inside was a small metal compartment.
A black velvet box rested within it.
I recognized the box immediately.
Elena's.
She had used it to store jewelry before we married.
I opened it.
Inside was a silver key, a flash drive, and a folded note.
The note contained only one sentence.
Evan, if you're reading this, it means I was right about Nathan.
My fingers tightened around the paper.
Miriam picked up the flash drive.
“Let's have this examined properly.””
But beneath the note was another sheet.
Elena had written a longer message.
I don't know how much time I have. Vanessa is not acting alone. Nathan came to see me tonight. He told me you were in danger and that I needed to cooperate.
I refused.
He said the children would pay for my stubbornness.
I stopped reading.
Miriam put a hand on my shoulder.
“Evan.””
I continued.
If anything happens to me, don't believe the story about my illness.
And don't let Nathan near our children.
The paper slipped slightly in my hand.
For six years, I had mourned my brother.
For six years, I had visited his grave.
For six years, I had believed his death was one of the few tragedies in my life that money could never undo.
Now I was beginning to understand that somebody had used that grief as a weapon.
A forensic technician approached.
“Sir, there's something else.””
He pointed toward the inside of the compartment.
A second object had been taped beneath the metal shelf.
A small digital recorder.
I looked at Miriam.
She nodded.
The technician carefully removed it.
“It's old,” he said.
“But the memory card appears intact.””
I turned toward the nursery door.
Outside, I heard a radio crackle.
Then an officer shouted.
“Mr. Whitaker!””
I stepped into the hallway.
“What?””
“Your security chief has left the premises.””
My expression hardened.
“How?””
The officer looked uncomfortable.
“He said he was going to retrieve his personal belongings. One of the guards opened the service gate.””
I stared at him.
“Who authorized that?””
Nobody answered.
Then my phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
A photograph appeared.
It showed my brother standing outside Whitaker House.
The timestamp was two minutes old.
Underneath it were seven words.
You should have stayed in London, Evan.
A second message followed.
Ask Miriam what happened to the first will.
I slowly turned toward my attorney.
May you like
For the first time since I had known her, Miriam looked genuinely afraid.
And that was when I realized my brother wasn't the only person who had been keeping secrets.
