Chapter 3 - The Man Behind David’s Funeral
I moved Logan behind me.
Marco immediately noticed.
"Catherine."
"Stay away from us."
Alessandro didn't move.
His expression had become unreadable.
I held David's note so tightly the paper crumpled.
"You said you didn't know where he was."
"I don't."
"My husband says you do."
"If David wrote that tonight, then someone wants you to believe I betrayed him."
"Someone?"
"Or David himself."
I stared at him.
"You think my husband is lying?"
"I think men who have spent years hiding learn to say whatever keeps people alive."
"That is not an answer."
"No."
For the first time since the hospital, anger flashed in Alessandro's eyes.
"But I was shot three times tonight because I was trying to reach your husband."
That stopped me.
"What?"
"The ambush wasn't random."
Marco placed a phone on the table.
A photograph filled the screen.
It showed a shipping yard.
A figure stood near stacked containers.
Even from behind, I recognized David.
The timestamp was six hours earlier.
"This came from one of our surveillance teams," Marco said. "David surfaced yesterday."
"Where?"
"Pier Nine."
Alessandro continued.
"He requested a meeting."
"With you?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"He said Meridian was moving your name into active status."
I didn't know what that meant.
I could tell from Marco's expression that I didn't want to.
"Explain."
Alessandro looked at Logan.
Then at me.
"Meridian maintains categories for people connected to investigations."
"What category?"
"Observation. Leverage. Removal."
My mouth went dry.
"And active?"
"Removal."
I pulled Logan closer.
"Why would they want us dead now?"
"Because David found something."
"What?"
"The part stored inside that ring."
I opened my palm.
The ring lay there like the world's smallest grenade.
"So read it."
"We can't."
"Why?"
"The chip is encrypted."
"Then decrypt it."
"David designed the encryption."
I laughed bitterly.
"My husband could barely remember the code to our garage."
Alessandro stared at me.
"Apparently David was very good at pretending."
I hated that sentence.
I hated what it meant.
How much of my marriage had been real?
His job?
His name?
His stories?
His friends?
Our first date?
The night he proposed?
Was I a wife or a cover?
Logan tugged my sleeve.
"Hungry."
The word dragged me back to reality.
Whatever secret war surrounded us, he was still three.
I found cereal in the safe-house kitchen.
While he ate, I watched him carefully.
"Sweetheart, the man you saw at the hospital..."
"Daddy."
"You were sure it was Daddy?"
Logan nodded.
"Did he hug you?"
Another nod.
"What was he wearing?"
"Hat."
"What color?"
"Black."
"Did he have hair on his face?"
Logan giggled.
"Scratchy."
That matched the photograph.
My chest hurt.
"Why didn't he come see Mommy?"
Logan's smile disappeared.
"He said bad men see Mommy."
I looked toward Alessandro.
He had heard.
"Did Daddy tell you anything else?"
Logan stirred cereal.
"He cried."
That nearly destroyed me.
"Why?"
"He said sorry."
I had to look away.
Later that morning, Marco brought equipment to read the ring.
The chip was protected by a sequence requiring both biometric and phrase authentication.
A prompt appeared.
VOICE KEY REQUIRED.
Alessandro looked at me.
"David probably used something only you would know."
"What?"
"Think."
I stared at the screen.
A memory surfaced.
David sitting on the floor beside Logan's crib.
Our baby screaming at two in the morning.
David bouncing him and whispering the same phrase repeatedly.
Home is wherever we both come back to.
It had been something his mother used to say.
I leaned toward the microphone.
"Home is wherever we both come back to."
The screen changed.
ACCESS PARTIAL.
Marco looked impressed.
"One more factor."
A second prompt appeared.
DATE.
I knew immediately.
Not our wedding.
Not Logan's birth.
The date we met.
I entered it.
The files opened.
Dozens of encrypted folders appeared.
Photographs.
Financial ledgers.
Audio clips.
Names.
Government contracts.
Then a video file started automatically.
David appeared.
Alive.
My hand flew to my mouth.
He sat in a dark room.
His beard was longer.
His face looked thinner.
"Catherine," he said.
I stopped breathing.
"If you're watching this, things went wrong."
Tears came instantly.
"I need you to understand something before you decide whether to hate me."
I whispered, "Too late."
He continued.
"The car crash was staged. I agreed to it because Meridian had already located you and Logan."
His voice broke when he said our son's name.
"I thought disappearing would keep you safe for a few weeks. Then I discovered someone inside my unit had changed the plan. They wanted me gone permanently."
A photograph appeared beside him.
Jonathan Vale.
"I suspected Vale."
My stomach tightened.
"But Vale wasn't working alone."
Another photograph appeared.
Someone I recognized immediately.
My former supervisor at the engineering company where David had supposedly worked.
Elaine Mercer.
I had attended Christmas dinners at her house.
She had held newborn Logan.
David continued.
"Elaine gave Meridian access to building systems, hospitals, courthouses, and municipal networks."
Hospitals.
I looked toward Marco.
He understood.
"That's how they got Logan upstairs."
David's recording continued.
"The network uses innocent people as pressure points. Families. Children. Anyone they can turn into leverage."
My anger sharpened into something colder.
"I began working with Alessandro Romano because he had evidence Meridian was using his organization without his knowledge."
Alessandro looked at me.
There was the answer.
David had trusted him.
At least when he recorded the message.
But then David's expression changed.
"If Alessandro tells you he's innocent, don't believe him."
Everyone went still.
Alessandro stared at the screen.
David continued.
"He isn't Meridian. But he made decisions that helped them grow. He knows it."
Alessandro looked away.
That was different from betrayal.
Still bad.
But different.
"Most importantly," David said, "if I disappear again, don't come looking for me."
I almost laughed.
Of course I was going to look.
"You have Logan. Protect him."
The video flickered.
Then David leaned closer.
"If you're seeing this after February 14, use the hospital sub-basement access code 6219. There is a room beneath the old pathology wing. Everything began there."
The video ended.
Marco checked the date.
February 14 had been three weeks earlier.
I stood.
"We're going back."
"No," Alessandro said.
"David told me where to go."
"He also told you not to look for him."
"I've listened to enough men deciding what is best for me."
Marco coughed as if hiding amusement.
Alessandro didn't.
"That hospital was attacked six hours ago."
"Then they'll assume we won't return."
"That's why you're not a strategist."
"Good. I'm a janitor. People don't notice us."
That sentence changed the room.
Because I knew hospitals.
Service corridors.
Laundry lifts.
Badge-controlled doors nobody remembered existed.
I could get us into the sub-basement without walking through the main lobby.
Alessandro reluctantly agreed.
By afternoon, he could barely stand but insisted on coming.
We returned in two vehicles.
I wore my uniform.
Marco disguised himself as facilities staff.
Alessandro remained hidden beneath a hooded jacket.
We entered through a laundry receiving area.
No one looked twice at me pushing a cart.
That was the funny thing about invisible people.
You could place a woman in a gray uniform beside powerful men and everyone assumed she belonged to the furniture.
We reached the pathology sub-basement.
Door 6219.
No label.
I entered the code.
The lock opened.
Inside was an abandoned office.
One desk.
One computer.
One wall covered with photographs.
My photograph.
Logan's preschool.
Our old apartment.
My grocery store.
My bus stop.
Photos going back two years.
Someone had watched every part of our lives.
Then I saw something worse.
A photograph of David's funeral.
Jonathan Vale stood behind me.
Elaine Mercer stood near the road.
And beside a black vehicle in the background was another man.
Alessandro stepped closer.
His face changed.
"You know him?"
He didn't answer.
"Alessandro."
Marco stared too.
"Boss..."
"Who is he?"
Alessandro's voice turned almost inaudible.
"My brother."
I looked at him.
"I thought your brother was dead."
"He is."
Then the computer screen switched on by itself.
A live camera feed appeared.
A man sat in a dark room.
His face remained hidden.
But his voice filled the basement.
"Welcome, Catherine."
I froze.
May you like
The man leaned toward the camera.
"Your husband told you the wrong brother died."
