Chapter 6 - The Father Who Was Supposed To Be Dead
The man on the security monitor lifted the photograph in his hand.
My father stared back at me from the screen.
The same man whose funeral I attended twenty years ago.
The same man whose ashes my family kept in a memorial box.
The same man Marcus had spent fifteen years running from.
I looked at my brother.
And for the first time since he came back...
Marcus looked more afraid than I was.
"Daniel."
Marcus grabbed my shoulder.
"Turn off the cameras."
I pulled away.
"No."
His expression changed.
"Daniel, listen to me."
"No."
I stepped closer.
"You don't get to disappear for fifteen years and start giving me orders."
The front gate camera continued showing the man outside.
Our father.
Richard Vale.
The man who was supposed to be dead.
I couldn't look away.
My entire life was suddenly filled with ghosts.
First Marcus.
Now him.
Two people I buried.
Two people who had been alive while I was mourning them.
I turned toward Marcus.
"Explain."
He said nothing.
"Now."
Marcus looked at Emily.
Then at Lily.
Then back at me.
"I thought he was dead too."
I laughed.
A bitter, angry laugh.
"You expect me to believe that?"
"It's the truth."
"You lied to everyone."
"Because I was trying to protect them."
I pointed toward the monitor.
"From him?"
Marcus didn't answer.
That was the answer.
I walked toward the front door.
Marcus immediately stopped me.
"Don't open it."
"Why?"
"Because if he's here, he's not alone."
The house suddenly felt smaller.
Every shadow looked different.
Every corner felt like someone was watching.
The same feeling I had when my nephews disappeared.
The same feeling that told me someone had been inside my home before I knew it.
I looked at the security screen.
"How did he get past the gate?"
Marcus stared at the monitor.
"He didn't."
I frowned.
"What?"
"He has access."
A cold feeling moved through me.
"Access to my estate?"
Marcus nodded.
"Your father built the original security system."
I froze.
Of course.
Before I became a private investigator, before this house became mine, my father designed the entire security network.
Every emergency protocol.
Every hidden entrance.
Every backup system.
I thought those things belonged to me.
But they never did.
They belonged to him.
I looked at Marcus.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
His face tightened.
"Because I didn't know who I could trust."
I looked at Emily.
"You trusted her."
Marcus lowered his eyes.
"Emily helped me survive."
My sister looked away.
That sentence hurt.
Because it meant everyone had a part in this.
Everyone except me.
I walked toward the living room.
"No more secrets."
Nobody answered.
I turned around.
"Tell me everything."
Marcus stayed silent for several seconds.
Then he finally spoke.
"Fifteen years ago, I discovered our father was alive."
The room went quiet.
"I found evidence that Richard was involved in something called the Vale Foundation."
"The same foundation you mentioned?"
Marcus nodded.
"It wasn't created to help people disappear."
He looked at me.
"It was created to make people disappear."
I felt my stomach tighten.
"What kind of people?"
"Anyone who threatened the organization."
My mind went back to the files.
Missing people.
Photographs.
Names.
Payments.
"So you investigated him."
"Yes."
"And he found out."
Marcus nodded.
"The night everyone thought I died, I was supposed to meet him."
"What happened?"
Marcus looked down.
"He tried to kill me."
The words hung in the air.
"But you survived."
"Someone helped me."
"Who?"
Marcus looked at Lily.
I followed his eyes.
The little girl was standing silently.
My heart sank.
"Eleanor."
Marcus nodded.
"Her mother."
I looked at Lily.
"So Eleanor saved you?"
"She saved both of us."
"Then why did everyone think you were dead?"
Marcus's face became painful.
"Because Richard needed everyone to believe it."
I walked closer.
"Why?"
Marcus looked at me.
"Because you were next."
The room went silent.
"What?"
"He wasn't trying to remove me."
Marcus's voice became lower.
"He was trying to remove everyone connected to me."
I felt my anger turning into something colder.
"Why would our father want me gone?"
Marcus looked at me.
"Because you were the only person who could expose him."
I shook my head.
"I wasn't involved."
"Exactly."
He stepped closer.
"You were clean."
That answer bothered me.
"Explain."
Marcus took a breath.
"Our father built everything around secrets. He controlled information. He controlled people. But he made one mistake."
"What?"
"He underestimated you."
I almost laughed.
"Me?"
"You were the one person he couldn't manipulate."
I thought about my life.
My career.
Finding missing people.
Following evidence.
Looking for truth.
Maybe Marcus was right.
Maybe that was why my father kept me away.
Because he knew I would eventually search.
I looked at the security monitor again.
Richard was still outside.
Waiting.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
Everyone froze.
I answered.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then an old voice came through.
"Daniel."
I couldn't breathe.
Because I knew that voice.
It was my father.
"How are you alive?"
A quiet laugh.
"You should ask your brother that."
I looked at Marcus.
My father continued.
"I know Marcus told you stories."
My grip tightened around the phone.
"What do you want?"
"I want my family back."
I looked at Marcus.
"After fifteen years?"
Silence.
Then Richard said something that made my blood turn cold.
"Daniel, your brother never told you why he really disappeared."
I looked at Marcus.
"What is he talking about?"
Marcus looked away.
My father continued.
"Ask him about the night your mother died."
The room became completely silent.
My mother's death.
Another memory I thought I understood.
Another funeral.
Another truth I thought was buried.
I looked at Marcus.
His face changed.
Not fear.
Guilt.
"Daniel..."
I stepped back.
"What happened to Mom?"
Nobody answered.
My father spoke again.
"Your brother has spent fifteen years protecting you from the truth."
I looked at Marcus.
"Tell me."
Marcus closed his eyes.
Then the front door slowly unlocked by itself.
Everyone turned.
The handle moved.
Once.
Twice.
The door began to open.
May you like
And standing outside was someone holding the same photograph from my father's hand...
Someone who knew exactly what happened the night my mother died.
