Chương 10
Claire nodded slowly.
"But he never contacted you."
"Why?"
She swallowed.
"I think he was trying to figure out who created you before he put you in danger."
Daniel looked back at the screen.
For the first time since Claire arrived at his door, the question changed.
It was no longer why someone had used his identity.
It was why someone had been watching him long before he knew there was anything to fear.
Daniel kept his finger on the edge of the laptop screen.
The sentence looked different the third time he read it.
Not because the words changed.
Because the space around them had changed.
Six years earlier, someone had written that they had found the person whose identity was being used.
Six years earlier, Daniel had been living in another city, working a job he barely remembered, believing his life was ordinary.
He closed the laptop.
"I need to see the rest."
Claire nodded, but she did not immediately move.
"There's something else."
Daniel looked at her.
"What?"
"My brother's last email."
The hesitation bothered him more than the words.
"Why didn't you show me that first?"
"Because I wasn't sure if I should."
"Claire."
She looked toward the window.
Outside, a delivery driver argued with someone over a parking space.
A woman at the next table laughed into her phone.
The ordinary noise of the diner seemed almost disrespectful.
"I thought if I showed you everything at once, you would leave."
Daniel leaned back.
"Why would I leave?"
"Because every person who gets close to this eventually does."
The answer was too quick.
Too practiced.
He studied her face.
"Who else got close?"
Claire rubbed her thumb against the corner of the laptop.
"My brother."
She swallowed.
"And me."
Daniel waited.
She did not continue.
"That is not an answer."
"No."
A tired smile appeared for half a second.
"You sound like him."
"Your brother?"
"He hated incomplete answers."
"What happened to him?"
Claire looked down.
The question had been sitting between them since they met.
She had avoided it every time.
"He died in a car accident."
Daniel watched her carefully.
"Accident?"
"That is what the report said."
The way she said it made the word feel smaller.
Not false.
Just insufficient.
"Do you believe that?"
"I don't know what I believe anymore."
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The waitress placed the check on the table even though they had not asked for it.
"Whenever you're ready," she said.
Claire looked embarrassed.
"Sorry."
The waitress shrugged.
"People take their time with coffee."
She walked away.
Daniel almost smiled.
There was something comforting about a stranger who had no idea that two people at a corner table were discussing stolen identities and dead investigators.
After they left the diner, Claire drove separately and Daniel followed her to her apartment.
He noticed the hesitation before she unlocked the door.
Not fear of him.
Fear of what was inside.
Her apartment was small and crowded with things she had not decided whether to keep or throw away.
Books stacked near the couch.
A plant that needed water.
A box of old photographs sitting open on the floor.
"My brother hated clutter," she said.
Daniel looked around.
"You kept his things."
"Some."
"You couldn't throw them away."
Claire removed her coat.
"No."
She did not defend it.
That honesty made him uncomfortable.
Daniel had spent years believing people either told the truth or they lied.
Now he was learning that most people lived somewhere between those two places.
Claire plugged in the laptop.
While they waited, Daniel noticed a framed photograph on a shelf.
A younger Claire stood beside a man who looked about ten years older than her.
Her brother.
He was smiling.
Not a perfect smile.
A real one.
The kind people had before they knew they would someday become evidence in someone else's story.
"He looks happy," Daniel said.
Claire looked at the photograph.
"He was."
"What changed?"
She folded her arms.
"Work."
"That simple?"
"No."
She sat down.
"He was a corporate investigator."
Daniel turned.
"Investigating what?"
"Fraud. Internal issues. Things companies don't want public."
"North Vale?"
"Eventually."
The laptop screen turned on.
Claire sat beside him.
A folder appeared.
David Mercer.
Daniel felt his chest tighten.
The name had become something physical.
Something heavy.
Inside were dozens of files.
Emails.
Scans.
Notes.
Photos.
Claire opened the oldest document.
It was a report with David Mercer's name at the top.
But the photograph attached was not Daniel.
It was another man.
A man in his late forties.
The real David Mercer.
Daniel stared.
"Who is that?"
"I don't know."
"You said someone used my identity."
"I said that because I thought they replaced you with him."
Daniel looked at her.
"Explain."
Claire zoomed in on the document.
"The first person with the name David Mercer was this man."
She opened another file.
"Then five years later, the records changed."
Daniel leaned closer.
The dates lined up.
The employment history.
The addresses.
The tax information.
Everything had been transferred.
But not perfectly.
Small errors remained.
Tiny cracks.
A middle initial missing.
A birthday recorded one day differently.
A job start date moved by three months.
Someone had copied a person.
But they had not copied him carefully enough.
"Why me?" Daniel asked.
Claire looked away.
"I don't know."
"Your brother might have."
"He might have."
The uncertainty returned.
Daniel closed the folder.
"We need to find out."
Claire looked surprised.
"You still want to?"
"No."
The answer came immediately.
She blinked.
"No?"
"I don't want any of this."
He rubbed his face.
"I want to go home, make dinner, complain about my neighbor's dog barking at six in the morning, and worry about normal things."
A small laugh escaped her.
"He has a loud dog?"
"Very loud."
"What kind?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know?"
"I've never actually seen it."
That made her laugh again.
A real laugh this time.
It disappeared quickly.
Daniel looked at the floor.
"But wanting a normal life doesn't make this disappear."
Claire nodded.
"No."
The next morning, Daniel made a mistake.
He went to work.
He told himself it was because he needed routine.
Because hiding would look suspicious.
Because people noticed when someone changed.
All of those things were partly true.
The larger truth was that he needed proof he was still himself.
Marcus found him in the maintenance room staring at a stack of repair orders.
"You are definitely sick."
Daniel looked up.
"Why?"
"You've been holding that paper for five minutes."
Daniel looked down.
He was holding a form upside down.
He placed it on the desk.
"Long night."
Marcus leaned against the doorway.
"Want to talk?"
"No."
"Okay."
Marcus nodded.
Daniel expected him to leave.
He didn't.
"You know, most people say no and then immediately explain why they said no."
Daniel almost smiled.
"Are you always like this?"
"Unfortunately."
"Does it work?"
"Sometimes."
Marcus looked around the room.
"I know something is wrong."
Daniel stayed quiet.
"I also know you don't want people involved."
"How do you know?"
"Because you cleaned your desk yesterday."
Daniel frowned.
"What?"
"You only clean when you're stressed."
"I do not."
"You reorganized the supply cabinet after your divorce."
Daniel stopped.
"You remember that?"
"You were the only person who alphabetized batteries."
"That was not a bad system."
"It was batteries, Daniel."
For the first time in days, the pressure loosened.
Only slightly.
But enough.
Marcus became serious.
"Whatever this is, don't let it make you disappear while you're still standing here."
The sentence stayed with Daniel after Marcus left.
Not because it solved anything.
Because it was the first time someone had noticed the person beneath the problem.
That afternoon, Daniel received an email from an unknown address.
No subject line.
Only one attachment.
A photograph.
His hand froze above the mouse.
The image showed a building entrance.
His apartment building.
Taken four years earlier.
The date was visible in the file information.
Three months before Daniel moved in.
At the bottom of the image was a note.
I was not trying to replace you.
I was trying to find you before they did.
Daniel read it twice.
Then his phone rang.
Claire.
He answered without speaking.
"Daniel?"
"Someone sent me a photo."
Silence.
"From when?"
"Before I moved here."
Another silence.
Then Claire whispered.
"Send it to me."
He did.
A minute passed.
Then two.
When she finally spoke, her voice had changed.
"What?"
Daniel looked at the screen.
"What?"
"My brother took this photo."
The room seemed to shrink.
"How do you know?"
"Because I recognize his camera."
Daniel looked at the photograph again.
The question was no longer who had created the false identity.
May you like
The question was why someone who was trying to protect him had been afraid of the people who created it.
And why he had failed before he could tell Daniel the truth.
