Chương 10
His mother stopped breathing loudly into the phone.
“When?”
“Six months ago.”
“And Claire didn’t tell you?”
“No.”
“Did she believe him?”
“Yes.”
“Do you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Ethan.”
“He had the tag.”
His mother began to cry.
Not dramatically. She made one wounded sound and tried to hide it by clearing her throat.
“I buried that tag,” she said.
“No. We buried another one from his effects box. This may be the one he carried.”
“I touched it before the service.”
“I know.”
“Your father cut his hand on that corner.”
“I remember.”
“Is Daniel coming home?”
The hope in her voice frightened Ethan more than grief would have.
“I don’t know who is coming home.”
His mother went quiet.
Then she asked whether Claire had given birth.
Ethan closed his eyes.
“No.”
He told her about the miscarriage. He told her Nora belonged to Leah and possibly Daniel. He did not tell her Claire had hidden Ellie’s death. That part still felt too private to share and too large to forgive.
His mother listened.
When he finished, she said, “Bring the baby here.”
“To Ohio?”
“She’s Daniel’s.”
“We don’t know that.”
“She has no mother.”
“She has Claire.”
“That is temporary.”
“So is everything right now.”
His mother’s voice cooled. “Your wife kept my grandchild’s death from me.”
“She kept it from everyone.”
“That doesn’t make it better.”
“No.”
“Then why are you defending her?”
Ethan looked through the garage window toward the kitchen. Claire was washing bottles at the sink. Nora rested against her shoulder in a fabric carrier.
“I’m not sure I am.”
He ended the call feeling as though he had betrayed both women.
That night he slept on the sofa.
Not because Daniel had slept there. Because Claire closed the bedroom door.
At four in the morning, Ethan woke to find her standing beside him with Nora.
“She won’t settle,” Claire whispered.
He sat up.
“Gas?”
“Maybe.”
“Give her here.”
Claire passed Nora down, then sat in the armchair.
Ethan paced the living room with the baby against his shoulder. His steps were slow. Nora fussed, quieted, fussed again.
“I used to do this with Daniel,” he said.
Claire’s eyes were half closed. “Walk around with him?”
“When we were little. He had nightmares after our grandfather died. He’d come into my room and wake me because he didn’t want our parents to know.”
“You were the same age.”
“I told him I was seven minutes older.”
“Seven?”
“Four. I rounded up.”
Claire’s mouth moved toward a smile.
“He believed older brothers had authority.”
“Daniel believed whatever was useful.”
Ethan kept walking.
“He was afraid of basements,” he said. “Our grandfather’s house had one with a freezer that made a knocking noise. Daniel refused to go down alone.”
“He never told me.”
“He wouldn’t.”
“What were you afraid of?”
“Nothing.”
Claire looked at him.
Ethan sighed. “Dogs.”
“You want a dog.”
“I recovered.”
“What happened?”
“Daniel pushed me into a yard with a beagle.”
Claire laughed before stopping herself.
Nora quieted against Ethan’s shoulder.
He looked down. “That’s all it took?”
“She likes your voice.”
“She doesn’t know my voice.”
“She knows low sounds.”
The distinction mattered, though Ethan could not say why.
The following afternoon, Delgado returned with preliminary findings.
The fingerprints on the tag were partial and mixed. One print might match Daniel’s service record, but the quality was too poor for certainty.
The tag itself matched photographs from his personnel file, including the diagonal cut and dented corner.
More importantly, a facial image had been found.
A traffic camera near the grocery store captured a man meeting Leah six months earlier. He wore a cap and turned away, but one frame showed most of his face.
Delgado placed the printed image on the dining table.
Ethan saw himself.
Not exactly. The man’s cheeks were thinner, beard uneven, posture bent. But the eyes, nose, and line of the mouth belonged to the same face Ethan shaved every morning.
Claire stood behind him.
“That’s him.”
Ethan touched the corner of the photograph.
Daniel’s left hand rested against the car roof. The little finger angled inward.
“Is it enough?” he asked.
“Enough to say the possibility is strong,” Delgado said.
“He’s alive.”
“We believe so.”
Ethan waited for relief.
What came instead was anger so clean it made his hands cold.
Daniel had been alive during the funeral. Alive while their mother folded the flag into a cedar chest. Alive while Ethan packed Daniel’s apartment, canceled his phone, argued with an insurance company, and decided which boots to donate.
“Where has he been?”
“We are working on that.”
“What was he involved in?”
Delgado sat across from him.
“Financial fraud, document theft, identity misuse, and obstruction related to the investigation of the convoy incident.”
“Did he kill Malik?”
“We have no evidence of that.”
“Did he switch identities?”
“We believe Daniel gave Malik Stone a jacket containing Daniel’s identification and personal effects before the convoy left.”
“Why would Malik wear it?”
“The weather turned cold. Daniel’s jacket was warmer.”
Ethan stared.
Such a stupid, ordinary reason.
“Daniel knew the route was dangerous,” Delgado continued. “He stayed behind claiming illness. The convoy was attacked. Several bodies were burned. Daniel disappeared before the casualty list was finalized.”
“He used Malik’s death.”
“Yes.”
“Did he cause the attack?”
“No evidence currently indicates that.”
“Voss?”
“Still under investigation.”
Claire asked, “Why didn’t Daniel report that he was alive?”
Delgado looked at her.
“Because he had stolen money. Because he had altered invoices. Because Malik had copied records. Because Daniel believed Voss would blame him for everything, and Daniel had enough guilt to make that believable.”
“Was he trying to expose Voss?”
“Eventually.”
“Eventually,” Ethan repeated.
Delgado nodded. “The records suggest your brother participated in the scheme for nearly a year. He began collecting evidence after Voss diverted a larger share and threatened Leah.”
“So he became honest when the arrangement stopped benefiting him.”
May you like
“That is one interpretation.”
“It’s the accurate one.”
