Chapter 4: The Man Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
I stared at the photograph until the edges began to blur.
My father.
Standing outside an abandoned warehouse with Ethan Cole.
The same father whose funeral I had attended three and a half years earlier. The same father whose ashes I had watched being lowered into the ground. The same man whose death certificate sat inside a locked drawer in my home.
Except the photograph was dated yesterday.
I enlarged the image.
My father's hair was gray. His shoulders were slightly hunched, and he wore the dark brown coat I remembered from his last winter with us.
There was no mistake.
It was him.
"Marcus!"" I shouted.
He had nearly reached the hallway with Lily.
He turned.
"What?""
I showed him the photograph.
Marcus stared at it.
Then he looked at me.
"Daniel, that's your father.""
"I know.""
"But he's dead.""
"Apparently, nobody told him.""
Marcus lowered Lily onto the sofa.
"Wait. Before you do anything stupid, tell me where you got this.""
"An unknown number.""
"Call it.""
I did.
The phone rang once before disconnecting.
I called again.
The number was unavailable.
Marcus rubbed his forehead.
"Okay. We need to slow down. You have a missing wife, a former employee who may have stolen millions, a woman who was supposed to marry you, and now a photograph of your supposedly dead father.""
"I don't have time to slow down.""
"You have a seven-year-old daughter. You absolutely have time to think.""
He was right.
I looked at Lily.
She was sitting quietly, holding the photograph of Alicia against her chest.
I crouched in front of her.
"Sweetheart, Uncle Marcus is going to take you home. Mrs. Carter will be there, okay?""
Mrs. Carter was our longtime housekeeper. She had helped raise Lily since she was a baby, and I trusted her more than almost anyone.
"Will you come home soon?"" Lily asked.
"I promise.""
"Will you find Mommy?""
I brushed a strand of hair from her face.
"I'm going to find out the truth.""
She studied me.
Then she whispered, "Mommy said you would.""
My chest tightened.
"She said that?""
Lily nodded.
"She said Daddy would find her when he stopped believing the wrong people.""
I looked toward Vanessa.
She had gone completely still.
"Vanessa," I said.
"Did Alicia ever say anything like that to you?""
Vanessa shook her head.
"No.""
"Think carefully.""
"I don't remember.""
"Then remember.""
Marcus picked up Lily.
"I'll call you when we're home.""
I nodded.
As they disappeared down the hallway, I turned toward Vanessa.
"You're coming with me.""
She looked frightened.
"To the storage facility?""
"Yes.""
"Daniel, I don't think that's a good idea.""
"Neither was keeping my wife's key for three years.""
She lowered her eyes.
I walked toward the door.
After a moment, I heard her footsteps following me.
Peachtree Storage sat behind a row of auto repair shops on Memorial Drive.
The facility was surrounded by a tall metal fence. A security camera pointed toward the entrance, and a faded sign advertised climate-controlled storage units.
I parked outside.
Vanessa sat motionless in the passenger seat.
"Why are you shaking?"" I asked.
"I'm cold.""
"It isn't cold.""
She looked at me.
"Daniel, if we find something in there, you have to understand that Alicia may not be the person you remember.""
I turned off the engine.
"She disappeared. She didn't become a different person.""
"You don't know what happened.""
"Neither do you.""
Vanessa stared through the windshield.
Then she whispered, "Maybe that's the problem.""
I got out.
Inside the office, a middle-aged man sat behind a glass window. A small television played a football game without sound.
He looked up.
"Can I help you?""
I placed the key on the counter.
"Unit 314.""
He examined it.
"Name on the account?""
I hesitated.
"Brooks.""
He typed something into his computer.
His expression changed.
"That's unusual.""
"What?""
"The account was closed this morning.""
My stomach tightened.
"By whom?""
He looked at the screen.
"Authorized account holder.""
"Name?""
He hesitated.
"Mr. Daniel Brooks.""
I stared at him.
"That's impossible. I never opened this account.""
The man turned the monitor slightly.
A scanned copy of my driver's license appeared.
My name.
My photograph.
My signature.
Except I had never signed that document.
Vanessa stepped closer.
"Can you tell us when the unit was last accessed?""
The employee checked another screen.
"Yesterday, at 6:12 p.m.""
"Who accessed it?"" I asked.
"The system doesn't record the visitor's name. Just the access code.""
"Do you have security footage?""
"Not without a police request.""
I leaned forward.
"Someone is using my identity to access a storage unit containing evidence in a missing-person case.""
He picked up the telephone.
"Sir, I need to call my supervisor.""
"Please do.""
A few minutes later, the supervisor arrived.
After checking my identification and making a phone call, he agreed to let me inspect the unit while recording the visit.
The metal door rolled upward with a harsh mechanical rattle.
Inside was a single cardboard box.
Nothing else.
I stepped forward.
The box had been sealed with brown packing tape.
On top, someone had written:
*FOR DANIEL — ONLY IF ALICIA DOESN'T COME HOME.*
My knees nearly buckled.
Vanessa covered her mouth.
I crouched and touched the handwriting.
I knew it.
I had seen it on birthday cards, shopping lists, and the notes Alicia used to leave beside my coffee.
It was hers.
I carefully opened the box.
Inside were three folders, an old mobile phone, a small velvet jewelry pouch, and a sealed envelope.
The first folder contained bank statements.
The second contained company records.
The third contained photographs.
I picked up the first photograph.
Ethan Cole was standing outside our office building, shaking hands with a man in a gray suit.
I recognized the man.
He was my father's personal attorney, Richard Hayes.
I opened another photograph.
This time, Ethan was handing my father a thick envelope.
The date was printed in the corner.
Three weeks after my father's funeral.
I felt sick.
"Daniel," Vanessa whispered.
I looked at her.
She was staring at the velvet pouch.
I opened it.
Inside was Alicia's wedding ring.
The ring she had been wearing the night she disappeared.
I held it in my palm.
For three years, I had imagined finding it in a hospital, at the bottom of a river, or in some place where I could finally stop hoping.
Now it was here.
Along with a letter.
I opened the envelope.
Daniel,
If you're reading this, it means I failed to come home.
I need you to understand that I never left because I wanted to abandon you or Lily.
Your father knew what Ethan was doing. He knew about the transfers. He also knew why I had started investigating.
There is something about your birth, Daniel, that you were never told.
I stopped reading.
My birth?
I continued.
The money was only the beginning. Your father was protecting someone. Someone inside our family.
Do not trust Richard Hayes.
Do not believe the story about his death.
And whatever happens, never let Ethan get his hands on Lily.
I love you.
Alicia.
I lowered the letter.
Vanessa was crying.
"Your father knew," she whispered.
I looked at her.
"Knew what?""
She shook her head.
"I don't know.""
"Vanessa!""
"I swear!""
I picked up the old mobile phone.
Its battery was dead, but the device looked intact.
The storage supervisor brought us a charger.
While the phone powered on, I examined the remaining documents.
One bank statement showed repeated transfers from Brooks Development to an offshore account.
The amounts were staggering.
Over eight million dollars.
But one name appeared repeatedly in the authorization column.
Richard Hayes.
My father's attorney.
Then the old phone vibrated.
One saved voicemail appeared on the screen.
The date was three years earlier.
The contact name was DAD.
I pressed play.
My father's voice filled the storage unit.
"Daniel, if you're hearing this, I'm sorry. I should have told you the truth before it became too late.""
There was a pause.
Then he said something that made Vanessa stumble backward.
"Your mother was never dead, son. And Alicia is the only person who knows where she's been.""
The recording ended.
I stood motionless.
My mother had died when I was six.
At least, that was what I had been told.
And now, apparently, she was alive.
Before I could process the words, the storage supervisor shouted from the entrance.
"Sir! Someone just accessed the main gate!""
I turned.
A black SUV was pulling away from the building.
I caught a glimpse of the driver.
Ethan Cole.
And in the back window, someone had pressed a hand against the glass.
A woman's hand.
May you like
With a familiar silver ring.
Alicia's ring.
