Chapter 3 - The Dead Man Calling
Nobody wanted Dad to answer.
I did.
"Pick it up."
His eyes stayed on the phone.
"Maddie."
"Pick it up."
"You don't understand."
"Then help me."
Mom was crying silently now.
Ethan looked between them.
"Uncle Thomas is alive?"
Dad didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
Agent Brooks picked up the phone, placed it inside an evidence sleeve, and connected the call through a monitored speaker.
"Richard?"
The voice was older than I remembered.
But I remembered it.
Thomas Carter used to lift me onto his shoulders.
He taught Ethan to throw a baseball.
Then, when I was twelve, our parents told us he'd died in a boating accident.
No body.
Closed casket.
I had cried for weeks.
Dad finally spoke.
"Thomas."
"You shouldn't have opened 317."
My father looked at me.
"We didn't."
Thomas laughed softly.
"Madison did."
I stepped closer.
"How do you know I'm here?"
Silence.
Then:
"Hello, Maddie."
I hated how familiar he sounded.
"Where are you?"
"Not safe."
"Neither is Lily."
That changed his breathing.
"Is she with you?"
"No."
"Good."
"Why?"
"Because this was never about Ethan."
I looked at my brother.
He looked destroyed.
"What was it about?"
"You."
The room seemed to shrink.
Thomas continued.
"Your brother's custody case was leverage."
"For what?"
"To bring you home."
"Why?"
"I can't tell you on this line."
Agent Brooks wrote something on a pad.
KEEP HIM TALKING.
"Then tell me why my parents helped."
Thomas went silent.
I watched Mom.
She stared at the floor.
Dad closed his eyes.
"Ask your mother," Thomas said.
Mom made a broken sound.
I turned toward her.
"What did you do?"
She shook her head.
"Elaine," Dad warned.
"No," she whispered.
"Elaine."
"No more."
She stood.
For the first time that day, my mother looked less like the woman who had spent thirty years controlling every room she entered and more like somebody who had been carrying a weight too long.
"Thomas didn't die."
"We established that."
"He disappeared."
"Why?"
"Because of your father."
Dad slammed his hand on the table.
"Enough."
I stepped between them.
"No. Not enough."
Mom looked at me.
"Richard's company got into trouble."
"What kind?"
"Financial at first."
Dad laughed bitterly.
"Don't pretend you didn't know."
"I knew about the debt."
"You knew more."
"Not at the beginning."
Their marriage was unraveling in front of us.
I didn't care.
"What happened?"
Mom swallowed.
"Your father accepted a shipping contract."
Dad stared at her.
"It was legitimate."
"Until it wasn't."
"Elaine."
"The cargo wasn't what the paperwork said."
Restricted equipment.
My commander's words returned.
"Military equipment?" I asked.
Mom nodded.
Ethan sat down hard.
Dad's voice became desperate.
"I didn't know."
"Maybe not the first time," Mom said.
"But you kept shipping."
"I was threatened."
"So was Thomas."
I looked at the phone.
My uncle was still listening.
"What did Thomas do?"
"He tried to expose it."
Dad's face twisted.
"He tried to destroy us."
"He tried to stop you."
"I was protecting my family."
"By telling your children their uncle was dead?"
Dad had no answer.
Thomas spoke through the phone.
"Richard, tell Madison who signed the first contract."
Dad went still.
Mom whispered, "Don't."
I looked at her.
That was when I understood.
"You?"
She shook her head.
"Mom?"
"I didn't know what it was."
My parents had spent my entire life presenting themselves as opposites.
Dad was business.
Mom was family.
Dad made the decisions.
Mom kept everyone together.
Apparently, that was another lie.
Agent Brooks asked Thomas where he was.
He refused.
Then the call disconnected.
The number vanished from Dad's screen.
Untraceable.
Brooks looked furious.
I looked at my parents.
"Did you manufacture evidence against Ethan?"
Mom shook her head.
Dad said nothing.
"Did you?"
Vance answered from behind us.
"No."
Everyone turned.
He was seated beside another agent.
His face had lost all its arrogance.
"I did."
Ethan crossed the room so fast I had to stop him.
"You framed me?"
Vance looked at him.
"I was instructed to create enough concern for an emergency custody intervention."
"By my parents?"
"No."
"Then who?"
Vance looked at Agent Brooks.
"I want immunity."
She almost laughed.
"You don't have enough leverage."
"I know who ordered the custody case."
Now she stopped smiling.
"Who?"
"Immunity."
Brooks requested a prosecutor.
While we waited, Rachel finally called the person watching Lily.
She spoke quietly.
Then her expression changed.
"What?"
Ethan moved toward her.
"What happened?"
Rachel listened.
"No. Don't leave the house."
Her face went white.
"Lock everything."
She ended the call.
"Lily's missing."
Everything stopped.
"What do you mean missing?" Ethan demanded.
"The woman watching her went upstairs for two minutes. The back door was open when she came down."
I grabbed Rachel's shoulders.
"Was there forced entry?"
"No."
"Car?"
"She heard one."
"Description?"
"Black SUV."
My parents reacted simultaneously.
I saw it.
"What?" I asked.
Dad looked away.
"What do you know about a black SUV?"
Mom whispered, "Thomas."
"You think Thomas took her?"
Dad said, "He used to drive one."
"Twenty years ago?"
No answer.
Agent Brooks mobilized everyone.
Within minutes, an Amber Alert was being prepared.
Security footage from the neighborhood arrived.
Black SUV.
Partial plate.
A man exited.
He wore a baseball cap.
He entered through the backyard.
Three minutes later, he returned holding Lily's hand.
Not dragging her.
Holding it.
Lily wasn't afraid.
She knew him.
The camera caught his face for one second.
Ethan leaned toward the monitor.
"Pause."
Brooks froze the frame.
Mom covered her mouth.
Dad whispered, "No."
I stared at the screen.
It wasn't Thomas.
It was someone else from our childhood.
Someone who had been in our house hundreds of times.
Someone who attended birthdays.
Christmases.
My high-school graduation.
My enlistment ceremony.
Charles Vance.
The attorney.
We turned.
His chair was empty.
The agent assigned to him lay unconscious in the corridor.
The emergency exit was open.
On the floor beside the agent was Lily's stuffed rabbit.
Its stomach had been cut open.
Inside was a folded note.
I opened it.
One sentence.
COME ALONE IF YOU WANT YOUR NIECE BACK.
Below it was an address.
I knew the place.
My father's oldest warehouse.
And beneath the address was one more instruction.
BRING THE 317 DRIVE.
Rachel looked at the backpack.
Then at the empty table.
May you like
The black drive was gone.
Someone in the room had taken it.
