Chapter 16 - THE FATHER WHO KNEW
I couldn't speak.
Twenty years.
My father had known Arthur Voss was alive for twenty years.
That meant every Christmas.
Every birthday.
Every family dinner.
Every time my father told me to stop asking questions.
He had known.
My mother stood beside me, crying.
"Why?"
She looked at me.
"Because your father made a deal."
"What deal?"
"With Arthur."
My hands curled into fists.
"What kind of deal?"
She shook her head.
"You need to hear it from him."
I walked out of the church.
My father was still at the hospital.
Or so I thought.
His room was empty.
The nurse said he had left an hour earlier.
I called him.
Straight to voicemail.
Then my phone buzzed.
A message.
Come to the old lake house. Alone.
No name.
But I knew.
My father.
I drove there.
The lake house had belonged to my grandfather.
It sat beyond a narrow dirt road surrounded by trees.
When I arrived, the front door was open.
"Dad?"
No answer.
I entered.
The living room was dark.
Then I heard him.
"I'm sorry."
My father stepped out of the hallway.
He looked exhausted.
I stared at him.
"You knew."
He lowered his eyes.
"Yes."
"Arthur is alive."
"Yes."
"You knew for twenty years."
"Yes."
I stepped closer.
"Why?"
He took a long breath.
"Because he had your brother."
I froze.
"What?"
"Your older brother."
I stared.
"My brother?"
My father nodded.
"Before you were born, your mother had another child."
I shook my head.
"No."
"His name was Michael."
I couldn't breathe.
"What happened?"
"Arthur took him."
"Why?"
"Because your grandfather discovered the adoption network."
My father sat down.
"Arthur threatened to kill Michael if we exposed him."
"Then why didn't Grandpa stop him?"
"He tried."
"Did he succeed?"
My father looked at me.
"Michael was never found."
I felt sick.
"All these years..."
"Your grandfather spent the rest of his life searching."
"And you?"
"I gave up."
I stared at him.
"You gave up on your own son?"
He started crying.
"I was afraid."
I laughed bitterly.
"Everyone was afraid."
He nodded.
"I know."
"Then why did you stay silent?"
"Because Arthur promised that if I spoke, he'd kill Michael."
"And you believed him?"
My father looked toward the window.
"I had no choice."
"There is always a choice."
He looked at me.
"Not when someone puts a gun to your child's head."
I stepped back.
Then something occurred to me.
"Where is Michael?"
My father's expression changed.
"I don't know."
"Then why did Arthur say you were protecting yourself?"
My father didn't answer.
I stared at him.
"What did you do?"
Silence.
"Dad."
He finally whispered:
"I helped Arthur move the children."
My stomach turned.
"You helped him?"
"Only records."
"You falsified records."
"Yes."
"You lied about adoptions."
"Yes."
"You helped him steal children."
He closed his eyes.
"Yes."
I felt like I didn't recognize him.
"Why?"
"To save Michael."
I turned away.
Then I heard a noise upstairs.
My father looked up.
"What?"
A floorboard creaked.
Someone was here.
We both reached for our weapons.
A small figure appeared at the top of the stairs.
A boy.
Six years old.
Dark hair.
Brown eyes.
A scar across his eyebrow.
I stopped breathing.
My father whispered:
"Michael."
The boy looked at me.
"Are you Graham?"
I couldn't speak.
He nodded.
"Mom said you'd come."
"What mom?"
He smiled.
"Caroline."
My blood ran cold.
Caroline had told us she didn't know where Ethan was.
But this boy wasn't Ethan.
He was Michael.
My brother.
And he had been living in this house.
My father began crying.
"I found him two days ago."
I stared at him.
"Then why didn't you tell me?"
"Because Arthur was watching."
The boy walked downstairs.
He held something in his hand.
A USB drive.
"Arthur told me to give this to you."
I took it.
"What is it?"
May you like
Michael looked at me.
"Everything."
