Chương 8
Daniel looked down at the notebook.
His father’s handwriting.
His father’s fear.
His father’s silence.
“What did he find?”
Marcus paused.
“A series of transfers from an account your mother controlled.”
Daniel said nothing.
“Large amounts of money moved over several years.”
“And?”
“And Thomas believed your mother was hiding something.”
“My mother died twelve years ago.”
“I know.”
“So why are we talking about her?”
“Because before she died, she told Thomas something.”
Daniel’s chest tightened.
“What?”
Marcus hesitated.
“She told him she had been protecting someone.”
The words sounded wrong.
Daniel sat on the edge of the bed.
“Who?”
“We never found out.”
“That’s it?”
“No.”
Marcus’s voice changed.
More serious.
“Thomas thought he had found the answer.”
Daniel waited.
“He thought it was you.”
The room became silent.
Daniel stared at the phone.
“What?”
“He believed someone had used your name to move money.”
“That’s impossible.”
“I know.”
“Then why would he believe it?”
“Because the records made it look that way.”
Daniel stood again.
“Records can be wrong.”
“Yes.”
“Then why did he leave?”
Marcus did not answer immediately.
That was the first time Daniel sensed something beneath the conversation.
Something Marcus was avoiding.
“Because he was afraid,” Marcus said.
“Of what?”
“Of what would happen if he was wrong.”
Daniel looked toward the door.
He suddenly felt trapped in the room.
“My father abandoned his family because he was afraid he made a mistake?”
“No.”
Marcus’s voice became firm.
“Your father left because he thought his mistake had already put you in danger.”
Daniel shook his head.
“That makes no sense.”
“It didn’t to me either.”
“Then why believe it?”
“Because I saw what he saw.”
Daniel waited.
“What did you see?”
“A bank record.”
“Showing what?”
“Your name.”
The words landed quietly.
That made them worse.
Not dramatic.
Not loud.
Just there.
Daniel sat back down.
His mind searched through memories.
College.
Jobs.
Bills.
The years before his father disappeared.
Nothing connected.
Nothing made sense.
“I never had access to anything like that.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Because I investigated.”
Daniel frowned.
“You investigated me?”
“No.”
The answer came quickly.
“I investigated the records.”
Marcus paused.
“And what I found made things more complicated.”
Daniel looked at the clock beside the bed.
Almost midnight.
He should have been asleep.
He should have been home.
He should have been living his normal life.
Instead, he was listening to a stranger explain that his dead father had spent years afraid of something connected to his own name.
“What did you find?”
Marcus was quiet.
“Someone had copied your identity.”
Daniel felt a strange relief.
Finally.
Something that made sense.
“Then my father knew that?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t he tell me?”
Marcus did not answer.
Daniel already knew.
Because Thomas did not trust his own judgment.
Because he believed silence was protection.
Because he had spent his whole life hiding pain behind decisions nobody asked him to make.
“He should have told me,” Daniel said.
“Yes.”
The agreement hurt more than an excuse would have.
“He should have come home.”
“Yes.”
Daniel looked down.
For years, he had imagined everyone defending his father.
He had imagined excuses.
Distance.
Complicated explanations.
He had never imagined someone simply agreeing that Thomas was wrong.
“He wrote that he failed me.”
Marcus was quiet.
“He knew.”
“What?”
“He knew leaving hurt you.”
Daniel swallowed.
“Then why?”
“Because he believed staying would hurt you more.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
He hated that answer.
Because part of him understood it.
And understanding was much harder than anger.
“What happened after he left?”
“He kept investigating.”
“By himself?”
“Yes.”
“That was stupid.”
Marcus gave a quiet breath.
“Yes.”
The answer almost sounded like agreement between two people who had both known Thomas.
“He should have trusted people.”
“He didn’t.”
“I know.”
“He thought if he involved anyone else, they would become a target.”
Daniel looked at the notebook.
“Was he right?”
Marcus did not answer.
That was answer enough.
A few seconds passed.
Then Daniel heard something outside his room.
Footsteps.
He looked toward the door.
The hallway light beneath it moved.
Someone had stopped outside.
“Marcus.”
“Yes?”
“Are you alone?”
The question surprised him.
“No.”
Daniel stood.
“Who is with you?”
A pause.
Then Marcus said something Daniel did not expect.
“My daughter.”
Daniel frowned.
“Why?”
“Because she was the reason I contacted you.”
The footsteps outside Daniel’s door moved away.
He waited.
“Why would your daughter care?”
Marcus became quiet.
Then he said, “Because she was the person your father was trying to protect.”
Daniel felt the air leave the room.
“What?”
“My daughter was the reason Thomas started looking into Northbridge.”
“Why?”
“Because seven years ago, she disappeared.”
Daniel gripped the phone.
“Disappeared?”
“She came back.”
The relief in Marcus’s voice was brief.
“But she was not the same.”
Daniel sat slowly.
“What happened to her?”
Marcus did not answer right away.
When he did, his voice sounded older.
“Your father spent the last years of his life trying to find out who did it.”
Daniel looked at the notebook.
At the pages full of names.
Dates.
Questions.
And suddenly the story changed again.
His father had not only been running from something.
He had been chasing something.
Something that had never ended.
“Daniel,” Marcus said.
“Yes?”
“There is something you need to know before you keep looking.”
“What?”
“Your father did not die because he was sick.”
Daniel stopped breathing for a moment.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying his death was investigated.”
Daniel stood.
“The police said it was natural.”
“Yes.”
“Then why are you telling me this?”
“Because the report was wrong.”
The room went completely still.
Daniel stared at the phone.
A thousand questions rose at once.
But before he could speak, Marcus continued.
“And because the person who changed that report knows you have the letters now.”
Daniel felt a cold sensation move through him.
“What person?”
May you like
Marcus’s answer was almost a whisper.
“The same person who has been watching your family for seven years.”
