Chapter 5: The Man Who Wasn't Dead
For thirteen years, I had believed my father was dead.
I had stood beside a closed casket.
I had watched dirt fall onto the grave.
I had listened to the pastor talk about a man who had worked with his hands, loved his family, and left behind a son who would carry his memory forever.
I had cried until I couldn't breathe.
And now my twelve-year-old daughter was telling me that the man wasn't dead.
“No,” I whispered.
Maya watched my face.
“Dad?””
I stepped away from the bed.
“No.””
Claire reached for me.
“Marcus—”
“Don't.””
My voice shook.
“You don't get to say my name like that.””
She lowered her hand.
Dr. Harris looked between us.
“Perhaps we should give everyone a moment.””
“No,” I said.
I turned toward him.
“I need answers.””
The doctor nodded.
“I understand.””
I looked at Maya.
“Sweetheart, did you actually see this man?””
She nodded.
“Daniel?””
“Yes.””
“What did he look like?””
“He had gray hair.””
My heartbeat quickened.
“Was he old?””
She thought about it.
“Not really. Maybe like you when you were older.””
I almost smiled.
Almost.
“Did he have glasses?””
She nodded.
“Black ones.””
My father had worn black-rimmed glasses.
Always.
Even when he worked in the garage.
“Did he have a scar?””
Maya's eyebrows pulled together.
“Here.””
She touched the left side of her jaw.
My father's scar had been there since I was a child.
A welding accident.
I sank into the chair.
Claire said nothing.
I looked at her.
“You knew.””
She shook her head.
“I knew Daniel existed.””
“That isn't what I asked.””
“I didn't know your father was alive.””
“But you knew someone was pretending he was dead.””
“I knew there were things about your father's death that didn't make sense.””
I stared at her.
“Thirteen years.””
Her eyes glistened.
“I was afraid.””
“You were afraid for thirteen years?””
She nodded.
“Yes.””
“Of him?””
“Of what would happen if you found out.””
“Then why did you let Maya meet him?””
Claire's face collapsed.
“I didn't.””
“Then who did?””
“I don't know.””
Maya spoke from the bed.
“Mom knows.””
Claire closed her eyes.
“No, Maya.””
“Yes, you do.””
Claire looked at our daughter.
The two of them stared at one another.
Something passed between them.
Something practiced.
Like they had had this conversation before.
“Mom told me to forget him,” Maya whispered.
I looked at Claire.
“You told her to forget Daniel.””
“She was frightened.””
“You knew she met him.””
Claire's lips trembled.
“She told me after.””
“When?””
“Last month.””
“And you did nothing?””
“I was trying to find out what he wanted.””
“You should have called me.””
“I thought he would come after you.””
“He came after our daughter.””
Claire's face tightened.
“I know.””
“No. You don't.””
I stood.
“You don't get to decide who gets protected anymore.””
A nurse entered quietly.
“Sorry. There's a call for Mr. Carter.””
I frowned.
“Who?””
She checked the note.
“He wouldn't give a name.””
My pulse jumped.
“Where?””
“Hospital security desk.””
I looked at Claire.
She looked frightened again.
“Don't go,” she whispered.
I ignored her.
The security desk was two floors down.
The hospital at night felt completely different from the place I'd entered hours earlier.
The hallways were quieter.
The lights seemed too bright.
Every footstep echoed.
When I reached the desk, a security officer stood behind the counter.
“Mr. Carter?””
“Yes.””
He handed me a sealed envelope.
“This was left for you.””
“By who?””
“A man.””
“What did he look like?””
The officer shrugged.
“Middle-aged. Gray hair. Black glasses.””
My stomach dropped.
“Where did he go?””
“He used the parking garage.””
I tore the envelope open.
Inside was a single photograph.
My father.
Alive.
Standing beside a black SUV.
My hands began to shake.
On the back of the photograph was an address.
And beneath it, six words.
*Come alone. Bring nothing. Trust nobody.*
I read it twice.
Then a third time.
“Sir?””
I looked up.
The security officer was watching me.
“Do you need help?””
I folded the photograph.
“No.””
“Are you sure?””
I nodded.
Then my phone rang.
Claire.
I almost ignored it.
But I answered.
“What?””
Her voice was barely audible.
“Marcus, where are you?””
“Downstairs.””
“You need to come back.””
“Why?””
“Someone just tried to get into Maya's room.””
The world seemed to narrow.
“What?””
“The nurse stopped him.””
“Who?””
“I don't know.””
I started running.
I took the stairs two at a time.
By the time I reached Maya's floor, two security officers were standing outside her room.
Claire was there.
Dr. Harris was there.
Maya was crying.
I pushed through the doorway.
“Where is he?””
One officer turned.
“He left.””
“Who?””
“We're checking the cameras.””
“Did you see him?””
The officer nodded.
“Gray-haired male. Black glasses.””
My blood ran cold.
“The same man?””
Claire grabbed my arm.
“Marcus.””
I pulled away.
“Did he touch Maya?””
“No,” Dr. Harris said.
“The nurse intervened before he entered.””
I looked at Maya.
She was gripping the blanket.
“Baby.””
She reached for me.
I went to her.
“He was looking for you,” I said.
She nodded.
“Did he say anything?””
Maya wiped her face.
“He asked me if you had found the letter.””
My body went still.
“What letter?””
Claire looked at me.
I reached into my jacket.
The envelope was still there.
Maya stared at it.
“That one.””
I looked at Claire.
“You said you didn't know about this.””
“I don't.””
“Then how does he know?””
She stepped closer.
“I don't know.””
For once, I believed her.
Because Claire looked genuinely terrified.
Dr. Harris moved toward us.
“There is something else.””
“What?””
“The security officer said the man left this.””
He held out a small plastic evidence bag.
Inside was a key.
An old brass key with a dark green tag.
I recognized it immediately.
My father's handwriting.
*Workshop.*
My knees almost buckled.
I hadn't seen that key since I was seventeen.
I took a step back.
“Where did he get that?””
Dr. Harris shook his head.
“He gave it to security and said it belonged to you.””
Claire stared at the key.
“Maya,” she whispered.
Our daughter suddenly started crying harder.
I crouched beside her.
“What's wrong?””
“I don't want you to go.””
“Go where?””
She looked at the key.
“The old house.””
“What old house?””
“The place Daniel took me.””
I glanced at Claire.
She looked sick.
“Why don't you want me to go?””
Maya grabbed my sleeve.
“Because Grandpa said you'd come.””
My chest tightened.
“What?””
She shook her head.
“I don't remember exactly.””
“What did he say?””
“Something about when you finally came back…”
Her words faded.
I waited.
“When I finally came back where?””
“The workshop.””
I stared at her.
“Did you meet Grandpa there?””
She hesitated.
Then nodded.
“How?””
Maya looked toward Claire.
My wife whispered, “Tell him.””
That was the first time she had ever told our daughter to tell me the truth.
Maya took a shaky breath.
“There was a man in the room.””
“Who?””
“I thought it was Daniel.””
“And?””
“He turned around.””
She looked directly at me.
“It was Grandpa.””
Everything inside me went silent.
“You're sure?””
She nodded.
“He looked at me and said, ‘You're Marcus's little girl.’”
I couldn't speak.
Maya continued.
“Then he asked where you were.””
“What did you tell him?””
“That you thought he was dead.””
My throat tightened.
“What did he say?””
She whispered the words.
“He said, ‘That's exactly what your mother was supposed to make him believe.’”
I turned toward Claire.
She was crying now.
Not the quiet tears she had shed earlier.
Uncontrolled tears.
“Tell me what that means.””
Claire shook her head.
“I can't.””
“You can.””
She covered her face.
“I was nineteen, Marcus.””
The room went silent.
“Nineteen when what?””
She looked at me.
“When your father gave me money to disappear from his life.””
I stared at her.
“What?””
“He told me he would destroy you if I didn't.””
My blood ran cold.
“He knew about us?””
“He knew everything.””
“Why would he want you gone?””
Claire's voice broke.
“Because I found out why your father changed his identity.””
I took a step toward her.
“What did he do?””
She looked at me for several seconds.
Then she said the one thing I had not expected.
“He wasn't running from the police.””
She wiped her tears.
“He was running from the people who paid him.””
My phone vibrated in my pocket.
I pulled it out.
An unknown number.
One new message.
*YOUR FATHER HAS TEN MINUTES LEFT.*
A second message arrived.
*COME TO THE WORKSHOP ALONE.*
May you like
Then a third.
*OR MAYA WILL LEARN WHAT HAPPENED TO THE OTHER GIRL.*
