Chapter 18 - The Brother in the Photograph
We did not go to Virginia.
We went to Ethan's office.
The teenage boy in the photograph had been standing across the street from the building.
The picture had been taken less than three hours before.
Dad studied it.
“Can we enhance the image?”
Daniel nodded.
Within minutes, the photograph filled a monitor.
Gray eyes.
Dark hair.
A scar above the eyebrow.
I couldn't look away.
“Do you see the resemblance?”
Ethan stood beside me.
“Yes.”
“Who?”
He hesitated.
“Your father.”
I looked at Dad.
He studied the boy.
“Not just me.”
He looked at me.
“You.”
I stared.
“How?”
“The eyes.”
I touched my face.
This was my brother.
The person who might have been taken because I was chosen instead.
The person my father had forgotten.
Ethan received another message.
He read it.
“What?”
He handed me the phone.
A location.
A diner.
Fifteen minutes away.
No signature.
No explanation.
Dad shook his head.
“We don't go.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“It's a trap.”
“Everything is a trap.”
“Yes.”
“Then what do you suggest?”
“Nothing.”
That answer made me angry.
“You expect me to sit here while my child is missing and my brother is somewhere nearby?”
“I expect you to survive.”
“I've had enough surviving.”
The words came out before I could stop them.
Dad stared.
“I want my life back.”
“I know.”
“No.”
I pointed at him.
“You don't.”
“You've been fighting shadows for years.”
“You've been lying to me for years.”
“Yes.”
The admission silenced me.
Dad stepped closer.
“I was wrong.”
“About what?”
“About thinking I could protect you by controlling what you knew.”
He put the DNA envelope into my hands.
“I won't do that anymore.”
I stared at him.
Then he said:
“Go to the diner.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“With Ethan.”
He looked at Daniel.
“We'll watch from a distance.”
I swallowed.
“Thank you.”
He nodded.
“But don't trust anyone who approaches you.”
We entered the diner separately.
Ethan sat at the counter.
I took a booth.
Ten minutes passed.
Then he walked in.
C-13.
He looked younger than I expected.
Seventeen, maybe.
He scanned the room.
His eyes found mine.
Then he smiled.
It wasn't a happy smile.
It was a tired one.
He sat across from me.
“Camila.”
I couldn't speak.
“You know my name.”
“I've known it all my life.”
“How?”
“Records.”
“Who gave them to you?”
He looked toward the window.
“Your mother.”
I froze.
“She was alive?”
“When I last saw her.”
“Where?”
“An underground facility.”
“Is she alive now?”
He hesitated.
“I don't know.”
“Who are you?”
He smiled sadly.
“That's the question you've been asking since you were little.”
“What's your name?”
“Eli.”
“Eli Carter?”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“Eli Moretti.”
My chest tightened.
“Does Dad know?”
“He knows enough.”
“How?”
“Because he put me there.”
I felt sick.
“Why did he think you were dangerous?”
Eli laughed softly.
“Because I was the child they couldn't control.”
“Why?”
“Because I remembered.”
“Remembered what?”
“You.”
I stared.
“I knew you before they separated us.”
“How?”
“We were raised together for six years.”
I couldn't breathe.
“That isn't possible.”
“It is.”
He reached into his jacket.
He pulled out a bracelet.
C-12.
Mine.
I stared.
“I kept it.”
“My bracelet?”
“You gave it to me.”
“Why?”
“You said you didn't need it anymore.”
I touched the metal.
Memories began flashing.
A small hand.
A little boy.
A woman crying.
A door.
A siren.
A man carrying me.
My brother screaming.
I gasped.
“I remember.”
Eli nodded.
“What happened?”
He looked toward the window.
“Your mother tried to get us out.”
“Both of us?”
“Yes.”
“Then why was I the one who left?”
“Because you were sick.”
“I was sick?”
“You had a fever.”
He looked down.
“She thought you'd die there.”
“So she took me.”
“And left you with Dad?”
“No.”
Eli's expression hardened.
“Dad took you.”
The diner seemed to disappear.
“I thought he rescued me.”
“He did.”
“Then why didn't he rescue you?”
“Because Vale told him I was dangerous.”
“Were you?”
Eli smiled bitterly.
“No.”
“What did you remember?”
“Project Carter.”
I swallowed.
“What was it?”
He leaned forward.
“Not genetics.”
“Then what?”
“Prediction.”
My brow furrowed.
“They were trying to predict human behavior.”
“How?”
“Data.”
“From children?”
“Yes.”
“Why children?”
“Because children had fewer variables.”
“That is insane.”
“That's why your mother tried to destroy it.”
“What did they predict?”
Eli looked at me.
“Who would betray whom.”
I stared.
“Family.”
“Yes.”
“Diane?”
“She was part of the final testing.”
“Ethan?”
Eli nodded.
“You.”
“No.”
He shook his head.
“You were the control.”
I felt cold.
“Control for what?”
“To see whether love could be predicted.”
I couldn't breathe.
Ethan had been watching from another table.
Eli looked toward him.
“He's not the first person they've used.”
“What do you mean?”
Eli's voice lowered.
“Carter Ridge wasn't built to steal your money.”
“Then why?”
“To measure how far your husband would go when he thought he was losing you.”
I felt sick.
“Who was measuring?”
“Voss.”
“And Diane?”
“A participant.”
My phone vibrated.
A new message appeared.
Ask Eli about the fire.
I looked at him.
“You know about the fire?”
His expression changed.
“I was there.”
“What fire?”
He didn't answer.
“Eli.”
“The night your mother died.”
Silence.
“What happened?”
“She set the facility on fire.”
“Why?”
“To destroy the records.”
“Did she escape?”
“I don't know.”
“Then how did you?”
His eyes hardened.
“I didn't.”
I stared.
“What?”
“That wasn't me.”
He pointed to a photograph on the table.
It was old.
Charred at the edges.
Two children.
Me and Eli.
A third child stood behind us.
I looked closer.
“Who is that?”
Eli whispered:
“C-14.”
My heart stopped.
“There were three?”
“Yes.”
“Where is C-14?”
Eli looked at the door.
“Inside your family.”
May you like
I turned.
Ethan was gone.
