Chapter 3 - What We DidDetective Marcus Harris arrived ten minutes later.
He had worked major crimes for nineteen years and had the irritating ability to look bored even when everyone else was panicking.
Today, he wasn’t bored.
He studied Michael’s license.
Then the house key.
Then Evan through the glass.
“You’re sure?”
Daniel nodded.
“That’s Michael.”
“Your brother who died working some classified government job?”
“That’s what I was told.”
“And now his eight-year-old son walks into our lobby being chased by a man with a scrubbed gun.”
“Yes.”
Marcus exhaled.
“I hate Fridays.”
Daniel didn’t respond.
Marcus looked at him.
“You’re not interviewing the suspect.”
“I know.”
“You’re not entering his holding room.”
“I know.”
“You’re not—”
“Marcus.”
“Good.”
Marcus walked away.
Twenty minutes later, Ryan still hadn’t given them a real name.
He refused fingerprints.
Refused an attorney.
Refused to speak to anyone except Daniel.
Marcus finally came out.
“He keeps repeating one sentence.”
“What?”
“Tell Daniel the house isn’t safe.”
Daniel looked at the key.
“He knows where it is.”
“Maybe.”
Marcus handed him a paper.
“We got a hit on facial recognition.”
Daniel read the name.
RYAN MERCER.
Former Army.
Private security contractor.
No current address.
No major criminal record.
Then Daniel saw employment history.
Northstar Strategic Solutions.
His stomach tightened.
“Michael worked for Northstar.”
Marcus looked at him.
“You knew that?”
“Before he disappeared.”
“What did the company do?”
“Security. Government contracts. Overseas consulting.”
“Vague enough.”
Daniel nodded.
Michael had never explained his real work.
Daniel had assumed he didn’t want to.
Maybe he wasn’t allowed to.
The hospital doctor examined Evan at the station.
No broken bones.
No urgent internal injuries.
Bruises in various stages of healing.
Dehydration.
Mild malnutrition.
The swollen cheek appeared recent.
When the doctor asked who caused it, Evan whispered one name.
Ryan.
Daniel had to walk away.
If he stayed, he might forget twenty years of police training and put his fist through a concrete wall.
An hour later, Lisa brought food.
Evan ate like someone who had learned meals could disappear.
Daniel pretended not to notice him hiding crackers inside the blanket.
He waited until the boy stopped chewing.
“Evan.”
“Yes?”
“You said your dad told you to keep the key hidden.”
Evan nodded.
“Did he tell you what house it opens?”
“No.”
“Did he tell you where it was?”
“No.”
Daniel frowned.
“Then how are we supposed to find it?”
Evan reached toward the hospital band.
“There’s something inside.”
Daniel leaned closer.
“What?”
Evan pinched the edge of the faded plastic.
“It opens.”
Daniel carefully examined it.
The wristband had been folded over itself and resealed.
He used a small pair of evidence scissors to cut the outer edge.
Inside was a thin strip of paper.
Coordinates.
And five handwritten words.
DANIEL WILL REMEMBER THE TREE.
Daniel stared.
Marcus leaned over his shoulder.
“You remember a tree?”
Daniel didn’t answer.
Because he did.
When he and Michael were children, their father had owned a tiny fishing cabin near Lake Briar, ninety miles north of town.
Behind it stood an enormous sycamore tree.
Michael once fell from it and broke his arm.
Their father had sold the property after their mother died.
Daniel hadn’t been there in more than twenty-five years.
He entered the coordinates into a computer.
A satellite image appeared.
Woodland.
One narrow road.
A small structure.
Daniel whispered, “That’s it.”
Marcus looked at him.
“The childhood cabin?”
“Same land.”
“Owned by whom?”
Lisa began searching county records.
Thirty seconds later, she looked confused.
“Not Michael.”
“Who?”
She turned the monitor.
The property belonged to a trust.
REED FAMILY PRESERVATION TRUST.
Daniel stared.
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“Created nine years ago.”
The same year Michael disappeared.
Marcus looked at the key.
“That’s probably our house.”
Daniel nodded.
“We need a warrant.”
“Already moving.”
Evan appeared in the doorway behind them.
Daniel turned.
“You should be resting.”
The boy looked at the satellite image.
His face changed.
“That’s where we lived.”
Everyone stopped.
Daniel stared at him.
“You recognize it?”
“The trees.”
Evan pointed.
“And the little road.”
Daniel felt his heartbeat increase.
“So Michael has been living at our childhood cabin for years.”
Evan nodded.
“Dad said nobody could know.”
“Why?”
“He said bad people thought he was dead.”
Daniel crouched.
“What bad people?”
Evan looked at the photograph of Ryan Mercer.
“People he used to work with.”
Marcus and Daniel exchanged a glance.
Then Evan added:
“Dad told me one other thing.”
“What?”
“If Uncle Daniel ever comes to the house…”
The boy’s eyes filled with fear.
“…don’t let him open the basement door.”
Daniel slowly stood.
Marcus frowned.
“Why?”
May you like
Evan looked at Daniel.
“Because Dad said that’s where he buried the truth.”
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