Chapter 2 - The Man Who Was Supposed To Be Dead
The man standing inside the steel doorway looked at me like he had been waiting eight years for this moment.
I couldn't move.
I couldn't breathe.
My hands remained locked around the steering wheel of the old Ford pickup while my mind desperately tried to reject what my eyes were seeing.
It was impossible.
The man outside that abandoned building was not supposed to exist.
Not after the night my wife came home crying.
Not after the phone call.
Not after the funeral arrangements.
Not after I watched Jessi bury every photograph of that part of her life because she said some memories were too painful to keep.
But there he was.
Alive.
Standing beneath the broken light above the warehouse entrance.
The same dark eyes.
The same scar along his jaw.
The same face that had appeared in every nightmare I had refused to admit I still had.
My fingers tightened around the steering wheel.
"No..."
The word escaped my mouth before I even realized I had spoken.
Eight years earlier, I had been told that Ethan Cross was dead.
Jessi had told me.
Wendy had confirmed it.
Everyone had confirmed it.
Ethan was gone.
And now he was standing twenty feet away from my daughter.
I reached for my phone.
My first instinct was to call the police.
My second instinct was to run toward Fiona.
But neither happened.
Because Fiona looked at Ethan differently.
She wasn't afraid of him.
She was afraid of something else.
That scared me more.
I watched as Ethan lowered himself slightly and spoke to her.
I couldn't hear the words through the truck window.
But I saw Fiona nod.
Then Wendy looked around.
Not casually.
Carefully.
Like someone checking if they were being followed.
My heart started pounding.
Because she wasn't just bringing Fiona somewhere.
She was hiding something.
I grabbed my phone and opened the camera.
Zooming in through the windshield, I captured the three of them standing together.
A grandmother.
A child.
A man who was supposed to be dead.
I took several pictures.
Then I finally opened the truck door.
Slowly.
Quietly.
I stepped outside.
The cold air hit my face.
My shoes pressed against the cracked pavement as I moved closer.
Every step felt heavier than the last.
"Fiona."
My voice wasn't loud.
But it was enough.
My daughter turned immediately.
Her eyes widened.
"Daddy?"
Wendy froze.
The expression on her face changed instantly.
For the first time since she moved into our home, I saw something I had never seen before.
Fear.
Not anger.
Not annoyance.
Fear.
"What are you doing here?" Wendy asked.
I stared at her.
"I could ask you the same thing."
Ethan stood silently behind her.
His eyes never left mine.
That bothered me more than anything.
A guilty person would have looked away.
A shocked person would have reacted.
But Ethan looked like he expected me.
Like he knew I would eventually find him.
I walked toward Fiona and placed myself between her and everyone else.
"Are you okay?"
She nodded.
But her eyes moved toward Wendy.
That small movement told me everything.
My daughter trusted me.
But she was still afraid of what would happen next.
I looked at Wendy.
"You took her to an abandoned building."
Wendy opened her mouth.
I raised my hand.
"Don't."
My voice was calmer than I felt.
"Not yet."
She stopped.
I looked at Ethan.
"You're dead."
The silence that followed was heavier than anything I had experienced before.
Ethan slowly looked down.
Then back at me.
"I know."
My chest tightened.
"You know?"
He nodded.
"I know what everyone believes."
I stepped closer.
"Everyone?"
His expression changed slightly.
Then he looked at Wendy.
That one glance told me there was a conversation happening between them without words.
A conversation they didn't want me to understand.
"Who are you really?" I asked.
Ethan didn't answer.
Instead, he looked at Fiona.
"She brought you the device, didn't she?"
My entire body went still.
I hadn't told him.
Nobody knew.
Not Wendy.
Not Fiona.
Not anyone.
I reached into my pocket.
The small black device was still there.
My fingers wrapped around it.
"How do you know about that?"
Ethan looked at me.
"Because that device was never supposed to leave your house."
A chill moved through me.
"What does that mean?"
Before he could answer, Wendy stepped forward.
"Daniel, you need to listen to me."
I turned toward her.
"Eight years."
My voice became sharper.
"Eight years you let me believe this man was dead."
Wendy's face changed.
"I didn't have a choice."
Everyone said that.
People always said that when they were hiding something.
"I didn't have a choice."
The sentence people used when they wanted forgiveness before admitting the truth.
I looked at Fiona.
Then back at Wendy.
"You involved my daughter."
Her eyes filled with regret.
"I never wanted her involved."
"But you did it anyway."
Wendy looked down.
That was enough.
I already knew.
I picked up my phone.
"I'm calling the police."
Fiona immediately grabbed my hand.
"Daddy."
I looked at her.
She was shaking.
"Please don't."
I froze.
Not because she defended Wendy.
Because she was afraid of what would happen if the police arrived.
"Why?"
She looked at Ethan.
Then whispered:
"Because Grandma said they would come after you."
My stomach dropped.
"Who would?"
Fiona didn't answer.
She looked terrified.
Ethan stepped forward.
"Daniel."
I turned.
His voice was quiet.
"Your wife didn't tell you everything."
The mention of Jessi made my entire body tense.
"Don't say her name."
Ethan stopped.
"I knew Jessi longer than you did."
The anger came instantly.
I grabbed his jacket.
"Be careful."
Wendy moved forward.
"Daniel!"
But Ethan didn't fight back.
He just looked at me.
"You think I'm the person you should be angry with."
His eyes hardened.
"But you don't know what Jessi was trying to protect you from."
I released him.
Slowly.
"What happened to my wife?"
Nobody answered.
That silence hurt more than any accusation.
Because silence meant there was something.
Something everyone knew except me.
I stepped backward.
"No."
I shook my head.
"You don't get to do this."
I pointed at all of them.
"You don't get to appear after eight years, bring my daughter here, and tell me my entire life is a lie."
Ethan looked away.
Then he said something that made my blood run cold.
"Your wife didn't disappear because of me."
A pause.
"She disappeared because she found out what was inside that device."
I stared at him.
The small black object in my pocket suddenly felt heavier.
"What is inside it?"
Ethan didn't answer.
Instead, he walked toward the warehouse door.
"There is something you need to see."
I didn't move.
"Why should I trust you?"
He stopped.
Then looked back.
"Because the person who told you I was dead is the same person who has been searching for that device for eight years."
My eyes moved toward Wendy.
She looked away.
That was all I needed.
A question formed in my mind.
One I didn't want the answer to.
"Wendy..."
She closed her eyes.
"Daniel..."
"Did you know he was alive?"
Her silence answered.
I felt something inside me break.
Not because Ethan was alive.
Because my own family had known.
I picked up Fiona and held her close.
She wrapped her arms around my neck.
"Daddy..."
"I'm here."
I looked at Wendy.
"I want the truth."
Nobody spoke.
Then Ethan unlocked the warehouse door.
The old metal creaked.
Inside was darkness.
But before he stepped in, he looked at me one last time.
"Before you see what's inside, you need to understand something."
I waited.
"Jessi didn't leave you."
My heart stopped.
"She was trying to come back."
A million thoughts hit me at once.
"What does that mean?"
Ethan looked toward the dark room.
Then whispered:
"It means your wife has been alive this entire time."
The world seemed to disappear.
Fiona gasped.
Wendy covered her mouth.
And I stood there unable to move.
Because eight years of grief.
Eight years of questions.
Eight years of believing I had lost the woman I loved...
had just collapsed in one sentence.
I stepped toward the warehouse.
Ethan moved aside.
The darkness inside waited.
Then my phone suddenly vibrated.
One new message.
Unknown number.
I looked down.
A picture appeared on the screen.
It was taken inside my house.
From my bedroom.
May you like
Moments earlier.
And standing beside my sleeping daughter’s bed was someone I knew very well.
