Chapter 2 - My Brother Was Alive
I stared at the phone long after the call ended.
Hannah grabbed my arm.
“What happened?”
“That was Daniel.”
Nobody in the basement moved.
“What did he say?”
My mouth felt dry.
“He said not to trust Melissa.”
Officer Kent glanced toward the stairs.
“Can we trace it?”
“Already calling it in.”
The number had been blocked, but our communications unit could request emergency carrier information.
Normally, the process took time.
Tonight, time felt like something we didn’t have.
I called the number back.
Disconnected.
Again.
Nothing.
Hannah took the phone gently from my hand.
“Michael, listen to me. From this moment on, you’re family. That means I need you to let us do this properly.”
“My brother just called after nine years.”
“I know.”
“He sounded injured.”
“I know.”
“And his son was locked in a basement by a man who apparently knew he was alive.”
“I know all of that. Which is exactly why you cannot go charging into this alone.”
I hated that she was right.
Upstairs, crime-scene technicians began processing the house.
In Ryan’s bedroom, they found two prepaid phones.
In a locked filing cabinet, they found documents under multiple names.
The more we discovered, the less Ryan looked like an angry stepfather who had lost control.
He looked prepared.
Prepared for what was the question.
One document gave us our first answer.
A private-security contractor license.
Ryan Mercer.
Not Ryan Grant, the name he used socially.
Mercer.
I knew that surname.
Nine years earlier, Daniel had been working as a financial auditor at Continental Medical Logistics.
The company provided equipment to hospitals across the Midwest.
Daniel disappeared three days before he was scheduled to meet a federal investigator.
The lead suspect had never officially been named.
But one man had been questioned repeatedly.
Continental’s regional security director.
Walter Mercer.
Ryan’s father.
Walter died six years ago.
At least officially.
I felt the past rearranging itself.
Daniel’s disappearance had never been random.
Ryan entering Melissa’s life probably wasn’t random either.
Hannah found me standing in the hallway.
“You remember something.”
“Ryan’s father worked for the company Daniel was investigating.”
Her eyebrows lifted.
“You’re sure?”
“I sat through every briefing.”
“Was Ryan questioned?”
“He would’ve been around twenty-two.”
“Old enough.”
Nobody had connected him to Melissa because, as far as I knew, Melissa didn’t meet Ryan until years later.
That suddenly seemed unlikely.
My phone buzzed.
Emergency location information from Daniel’s call.
The signal had hit a tower northwest of Bellwood.
A rural area near Lake Carver.
Thirty square miles of woods, abandoned industrial properties and scattered homes.
Then another officer came upstairs.
“We found something in the garage.”
A floorboard beneath Ryan’s workbench concealed a plastic case.
Inside were maps.
Printed photographs.
License-plate numbers.
My license plate.
Hannah’s.
Melissa’s employer.
Evan’s school bus route.
And a photograph of a farmhouse beside a handwritten address.
117 Miller Quarry Road.
Lake Carver.
My heartbeat jumped.
“We go now.”
Hannah was already calling the tactical team.
Before we could leave, the hospital called.
Evan was asking for me.
I wanted to say no.
Every minute mattered.
But then the nurse added, “He says he remembered something Daniel told him.”
Twenty minutes later, I was beside Evan’s hospital bed.
He looked smaller beneath the fluorescent lights.
A tray of untouched macaroni sat beside him.
“You found my house,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Did you find Dad?”
“Not yet.”
His eyes dropped.
“But we’re looking.”
“Ryan said nobody was.”
“What?”
“He said nobody had looked for Daniel in years.”
I pulled a chair closer.
“That isn’t true.”
Evan looked at me.
“I looked for your father every day I could.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Did you miss him?”
There are questions children ask that slice through every wall adults build.
“Yes,” I said. “More than I knew how to explain.”
Evan studied my face.
Then he reached beneath his blanket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
A nurse had found it hidden inside the tongue of one of his sneakers when his clothes were collected.
“I forgot.”
It was a drawing.
At least, that was what I initially thought.
Evan had drawn a house.
One window.
A tree.
A crooked fence.
Numbers were written beside the tree.
“What are those?”
“Dad told me if bad people found him, I should remember them.”
“Are they part of an address?”
“No.”
“What are they?”
“He said you would know.”
I didn’t.
That hurt more than I expected.
Daniel had spent his childhood creating codes.
Our father traveled constantly for construction jobs, and Daniel hated saying things directly on postcards because Mom read everything.
So we developed ridiculous little systems.
Baseball scores.
Comic-book issue numbers.
Page numbers from old adventure novels.
7-4-2-11.
I stared at the drawing.
Then I saw the tree.
Four branches on one side.
Two on another.
Eleven apples.
Seven roots.
It wasn’t random.
“Evan, did your dad say anything else?”
“He said, ‘Remember summer camp.’”
My heart kicked.
When Daniel was eleven and I was fourteen, our parents sent us to Camp Alder.
We hated it.
On the second night, Daniel wanted to run home.
I convinced him to stay by creating a treasure map around the campground.
Location seven.
Cabin four.
Bunk two.
Floorboard eleven.
7-4-2-11.
A hiding place.
“Camp Alder.”
The camp had closed fifteen years earlier.
It sat twelve miles northwest of Bellwood.
Near Lake Carver.
I stood so fast the chair scraped the floor.
Evan grabbed my sleeve.
“Is Dad there?”
“I don’t know.”
His fingers tightened.
“Bring him back.”
I looked into the face of a nephew I hadn’t known existed that morning.
“I’m going to try.”
The old camp was overgrown and silent.
Our team reached it just after midnight.
No lights.
No vehicles.
Cabin Four stood near the tree line, roof sagging.
I could still remember Daniel daring me to sneak frogs into the counselor’s sleeping bag.
For one painful second, I saw him as he had been then.
Eleven years old.
Gap-toothed smile.
Knees constantly scraped.
Following me everywhere.
Then reality returned.
Tactical officers cleared the cabin.
Empty.
Bunk Two had collapsed.
We moved it aside.
Eleven floorboards from the north wall.
I knelt.
The board lifted easily.
Underneath sat a waterproof metal box.
Inside was a flash drive.
A photograph.
And a letter addressed to me.
My hands shook as I opened it.
Mike,
If you’re reading this, I failed to keep Evan out of it.
I stopped.
Hannah stood beside me.
“Keep going.”
I swallowed.
I’m sorry you believed I was dead. I wanted to come home more times than I can count. But the men involved in Continental were never just stealing medical equipment. They were moving people, identities and money through hospitals. Witnesses disappeared. Records changed. Dead men became living men under new names. Living people became dead on paper.
I learned that someone inside law enforcement was helping them.
I looked up.
Hannah’s face hardened.
I continued.
That’s why I couldn’t contact you. I didn’t know who to trust around you.
Melissa helped me hide for a while. She was pregnant with Evan when I disappeared. She believed I was dead until six years ago, when I contacted her.
So Evan had been conceived before Daniel vanished.
And Daniel had secretly reentered his life later.
The timeline finally made sense.
Then I reached the next paragraph.
Ryan Mercer married Melissa because of me. He wanted to know what she knew. For years, I thought Melissa was protecting Evan. Recently, I discovered she may have made a deal with Ryan. I don’t know whether she did it willingly or because she was afraid.
Trust Evan.
Trust what he remembers.
And Mike—if Captain Warren is still wearing a badge, do not let him know you found this.
I stopped breathing.
Captain Warren.
Thomas Warren.
The man who had led the investigation into Daniel’s disappearance.
The same man who recommended me for the police academy.
The same man who attended my mother’s funeral.
The same man who, six months earlier, had been promoted to deputy chief.
Hannah whispered a curse.
Footsteps sounded outside.
Every officer in the cabin turned.
A flashlight swept across the broken window.
Then a voice called from beyond the doorway.
“Michael?”
I knew that voice too.
Deputy Chief Thomas Warren stepped inside.
His gaze went directly to the letter in my hand.
He smiled.
“You found Daniel’s box.”
No one had told him there was a box.
My hand moved toward my weapon.
Warren’s smile disappeared.
Then three armed men emerged from the darkness behind him.
“Put the gun down, Michael.”
Hannah drew hers.
“So this is how it was,” she said.
Warren sighed.
“I was hoping he wouldn’t involve the boy.”
My blood burned.
“Where is my brother?”
Warren looked at me for several long seconds.
Then he answered.
“Still alive.”
Hope exploded through me.
May you like
Until he finished.
“For now.”
