Chapter 31 - The Man Behind the Door
The locks kept clicking.
One.
Two.
Three.
The sound came closer with every turn.
Lucas was shaking so badly that his teeth were chattering.
“He’s here,” he whispered again.
I tightened my grip on his hand.
“Who is here?”
Lucas stared at the dark corridor.
“The man in the recordings.”
Victor laughed from the floor.
The investigator pressed a hand against Victor’s shoulder.
“Don’t move.”
Victor barely seemed to notice him.
“You still don’t understand what you walked into,” he said.
I looked at him.
“Then start talking.”
A fourth lock clicked.
Then a fifth.
Rachel pulled Daniel closer to her.
Diane was staring at the hallway as if she recognized something none of us did.
“Diane?”
She didn't answer.
I touched her arm.
She flinched.
“Diane, what is it?”
Her lips parted.
“That sound.”
“What sound?”
“The locks.”
She looked at Victor.
“David used to talk about them.”
The investigator turned.
“Your husband knew about this place?”
“He knew there was something under the property,” Diane said. “He told me never to ask questions.”
Victor smiled.
“David asked plenty.”
Diane's eyes filled with tears.
“Then why didn't he tell me?”
“Because he knew what would happen.”
The sixth lock clicked.
A cold draft moved through the room.
The lights flickered again.
Then a voice came from the corridor.
“You shouldn't have brought her here.”
Nobody moved.
The voice wasn't loud.
It didn't need to be.
It sounded calm.
Educated.
Almost tired.
The investigator immediately raised his weapon.
“Show yourself.”
A man stepped out of the darkness.
He looked to be in his late seventies.
Tall.
Straight-backed.
Silver hair combed neatly away from his forehead.
He wore a charcoal suit with no tie.
In one hand he held a small leather folder.
In the other, nothing.
No weapon.
That somehow made him more frightening.
He stopped beneath the failing light.
His eyes went directly to me.
Not Victor.
Not the investigator.
Me.
“Natalie Brooks.”
My stomach dropped.
Evan moved in front of me.
“Stay away from her.”
The old man looked at him.
“You still protect people before you understand why they need protecting.”
Evan's jaw tightened.
“Who are you?”
The man smiled faintly.
“My name is Arthur.”
Victor's face changed.
For the first time since I'd met him, I saw genuine fear.
“Arthur,” Victor whispered.
The old man looked down at him.
“You were told not to open the second door.”
“You lied to me.”
“No,” Arthur said. “I gave you exactly what you earned.”
Victor tried to stand.
The investigator forced him back down.
Arthur looked at Lucas.
The boy's face went white.
“I remember you.”
Lucas backed away.
“You don't know me.”
Arthur's expression softened.
“I know exactly who you are.”
“I said you don't know me.”
“You were six when they moved you.”
Lucas stared.
“You were supposed to forget.”
Arthur took one slow step forward.
Diane stepped between him and Lucas.
“Don't come any closer.”
Arthur stopped.
His eyes moved to her.
“You're Diane.”
“Yes.”
“You were told your son died.”
Diane's voice broke.
“Yes.”
“And for twelve years, you believed it.”
“You took him.”
Arthur shook his head.
“Not personally.”
Diane stared at him.
“Then who?”
Arthur glanced at Victor.
“He did.”
Victor looked furious.
“You told me I was choosing the child for the trust.”
“I told you to retrieve the child whose identification matched the transfer.”
“I did.”
“You retrieved Daniel.”
Victor's eyes darted toward the boy beside Rachel.
“But he was labeled Lucas.”
Arthur smiled.
“That was the point.”
My pulse began pounding.
“So you deliberately switched their names.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Arthur looked at me.
“Because names are easier to change than blood.”
A gunshot suddenly cracked through the room.
Everyone ducked.
One of the overhead fixtures shattered.
Rachel screamed.
Daniel dropped to the floor.
The investigator grabbed Victor by the collar and dragged him behind a concrete pillar.
“Who fired?”
Another shot echoed down the corridor.
Arthur didn't move.
He simply looked at the darkness behind him.
“Not mine.”
The investigator shouted to his team.
“Secure the corridor!”
Two officers rushed past us.
Then came a burst of gunfire.
Lucas grabbed my sleeve.
“Natalie.”
“I'm here.”
“He's going to take me.”
“Who?”
Arthur answered.
“The people who still believe the original trust belongs to them.”
He opened the leather folder.
Inside were photographs.
Old photographs.
Hospital photographs.
Birth certificates.
DNA reports.
And a picture of a woman holding a newborn.
I recognized her immediately.
Anna.
But she was much younger.
The baby in her arms had a dark patch of hair over the left side of his forehead.
Lucas.
Arthur turned another page.
A second photograph showed Diane in a hospital bed.
She was asleep.
A newborn lay in a bassinet beside her.
Two identification tags rested beneath the glass.
Lucas Brooks.
Daniel Brooks.
I stared at the photograph.
“There were always two.”
Arthur nodded.
“Exactly.”
“Then why did everyone say there was one?”
“Because the Brooks family didn't lose a child.”
He closed the folder.
“They lost a record.”
My eyes burned.
“Where is the original?”
Arthur looked toward the corridor.
“In the archive.”
“What is in the archive?”
“Everything.”
“Everything about whom?”
“About all of you.”
Evan stepped beside me.
“You keep saying ‘all of you.’ Who are you talking about?”
Arthur finally looked at him with something close to pity.
“Your father never explained the family tree?”
Evan went still.
“What family tree?”
Arthur sighed.
“Then he really did keep you blind.”
Another burst of gunfire erupted from the corridor.
An officer stumbled backward into the room, blood running down his sleeve.
“Move!” the investigator shouted.
Arthur remained perfectly calm.
“There isn't enough time.”
The investigator aimed his weapon.
“Everybody out. Now.”
Arthur looked at the trust in my hand.
“You haven't opened it.”
“What?”
“The trust.”
“You said Lucas can't activate it.”
“He can't.”
“Then why do you care who holds it?”
Arthur's eyes narrowed.
“Because you can.”
The room seemed to shrink around me.
“Why?”
Arthur's voice dropped.
“Because Natalie Brooks was never adopted.”
I couldn't breathe.
Evan stared at him.
“What are you saying?”
“She was concealed.”
“By my father?”
“By everyone who benefited from her disappearance.”
My fingers tightened around the trust.
“Who is my mother?”
Arthur didn't answer.
Diane whispered my name.
“Natalie…”
I turned toward her.
She looked frightened.
“You know something.”
“I don't.”
“You're lying.”
“I swear I don't.”
Arthur smiled.
“She doesn't know.”
“Then who does?”
He looked at the doorway.
“Your mother.”
A second later, the lights went out.
Complete darkness.
I heard Rachel scream.
I heard someone run.
I heard Lucas say my name.
Then I heard a woman's voice in the corridor.
“Natalie.”
My heart stopped.
I knew that voice.
Not because I'd heard it recently.
Because I'd heard it in a dream.
A memory.
A half-remembered lullaby.
The woman whispered again.
“Come to me.”
The emergency lights flashed red.
And in the brief illumination, I saw her standing at the far end of the corridor.
Older.
Pale.
May you like
Alive.
Anna.
