CHAPTER 5 — THE FACE UNDER THE BED
"It was..."
Ethan stopped.
His small hand tightened around the edge of the kitchen table.
Samuel waited.
He didn't rush him.
He didn't ask again.
He simply stood there, watching the boy struggle with a memory that seemed too heavy for an eight-year-old to carry.
Outside, rain struck the windows.
The apartment was dark.
The only light came from the faint glow of the streetlamps below.
Then Ethan finally whispered:
"Mr. Brooks."
Samuel's heart stopped.
"Daniel Brooks?"
Ethan nodded.
Samuel stared at him.
Daniel Brooks.
The private investigator Laura had mentioned.
The man who had supposedly been helping Claire for years.
The man who had provided Laura with documents.
The man who had claimed to be searching for Claire.
The man who had been sitting quietly in the courthouse that morning.
Samuel took a step backward.
"Are you sure?"
Ethan nodded.
"He told me not to make a sound."
Samuel's mouth went dry.
"What did he look like?"
Ethan frowned.
"Like he does now."
"Was he wearing a black coat?"
"Yes."
"Did he have a scar?"
Ethan touched his neck.
"Here."
Samuel closed his eyes.
The memory returned.
Five years earlier.
The library.
Claire screaming.
Victor entering.
Samuel falling.
And another man standing behind Victor.
A black coat.
A scar across his throat.
Daniel Brooks.
Samuel opened his eyes.
"Why would he hide under the bed with you?"
Ethan shook his head.
"I don't know."
"What did he say?"
"He said..."
The boy's voice became quieter.
"He said Mommy was going to be okay."
Samuel crouched beside him.
"Did your mother know he was there?"
"I think so."
"Did he take you anywhere?"
Ethan shook his head.
"No."
"What happened after?"
"I heard the door open."
"Which door?"
"Mommy's bedroom."
Samuel's face tightened.
"Then?"
Ethan swallowed.
"Mommy came in."
"Was she alone?"
Ethan nodded.
"She looked scared."
"What did she do?"
"She knelt down."
Ethan's eyes filled with tears.
"She told me not to come out."
Samuel's breathing became shallow.
"Why?"
"She said if I heard her scream, I should stay quiet."
Samuel looked toward the door.
"Did she scream?"
Ethan nodded.
"Once."
Then he covered his ears.
"Then I heard Dad."
Samuel froze.
"What did he say?"
Ethan whispered:
"He said..."
The boy struggled.
Then:
"Where is the card?"
Samuel's blood ran cold.
"What card?"
Ethan shook his head.
"I don't know."
"Did your mother answer?"
"No."
"What happened?"
"Someone pulled her away."
"Who?"
Ethan's eyes closed.
"I couldn't see."
"Then?"
"I heard Mommy say..."
He opened his eyes.
"Richard didn't do it."
Samuel stared.
"What?"
"That's what she said."
Samuel couldn't understand.
"She said your father didn't do what?"
"I don't know."
Ethan began crying.
Samuel pulled him close.
"It's okay."
But it wasn't.
Not anymore.
Because the recording had already suggested Richard wasn't the person who caused Claire's disappearance.
And now Ethan remembered Claire saying the same thing.
The question was no longer whether Richard was innocent.
The question was what he had been protecting.
At 7:15 the next morning, Samuel's phone rang.
It was Laura.
"Are you alone?"
Samuel looked at Ethan.
"Yes."
"Good."
"What happened?"
"I've been trying to reach you all night."
"Why?"
"Daniel Brooks is missing."
Samuel went still.
"Since when?"
"Yesterday afternoon."
"When did you last see him?"
"At the courthouse."
Samuel looked at Ethan.
"He's the man."
"What man?"
"The man Ethan saw."
There was silence.
"What are you saying?"
"Ethan remembers him."
Laura's voice became cautious.
"Are you sure?"
"He's certain."
"Samuel, listen carefully."
"I'm listening."
"Don't tell anyone."
"Why?"
"Because I checked Brooks' records."
"And?"
"He isn't Daniel Brooks."
Samuel felt a chill move through him.
"What?"
"Daniel Brooks died nine years ago."
Samuel couldn't speak.
Laura continued.
"The man we've been working with stole his identity."
Samuel looked toward Ethan.
"Who is he?"
"I don't know yet."
"Then find out."
"I am."
"Laura."
"Yes?"
Samuel lowered his voice.
"Ethan says the man was in the mansion five years ago."
Another silence.
"That changes everything."
"It already has."
Across the city, Richard Hawthorne sat alone in his office.
He hadn't slept.
The memory card was in police custody.
The judge had restricted his movements.
His son was under temporary protection.
Claire might be alive.
Victor was alive.
And now another man from the past had disappeared.
Richard opened a drawer.
Inside was an old photograph.
Claire.
Ethan.
Richard.
Victor.
They were standing together at a family charity event.
Everyone was smiling.
Everyone except Victor.
Richard stared at the photograph.
Then he noticed something he hadn't seen in years.
A figure in the background.
A man wearing a black coat.
He enlarged the image on his phone.
The man's face was partially hidden.
But the scar was visible.
Richard whispered:
"Brooks."
His phone rang.
Unknown number.
Richard answered.
"Hello?"
A voice said:
"You finally remembered."
Richard stood.
"Who is this?"
"You know."
"Victor?"
A quiet laugh.
"No."
Richard's face tightened.
"Then who?"
The voice became colder.
"The man who cleaned up your mistakes."
Richard's blood ran cold.
"What do you want?"
"Your son."
"No."
"Then give me the card."
"I don't have it."
"You will."
Richard looked out the window.
"Where is Claire?"
The voice laughed.
"You still care about her?"
Richard's jaw tightened.
"Where is she?"
"You should have asked that five years ago."
The line went dead.
Richard stared at the phone.
Then he noticed something on his desk.
A photograph.
He hadn't placed it there.
It showed Ethan sleeping.
Taken from inside Samuel's apartment.
On the back was written:
HE IS NOT SAFE WITH YOU.
Richard's hands began to shake.
For the first time, he realized the threat wasn't aimed at him.
It was aimed at his son.
At the police station, Laura sat across from Detective Marcus Reed.
He was in his late forties, with tired eyes and a reputation for refusing to close cases simply because someone powerful wanted them buried.
He placed a file on the table.
"This is everything we have on Daniel Brooks."
Laura opened it.
"There's almost nothing."
"Exactly."
"Birth certificate?"
"Forged."
"Driver's license?"
"Forged."
"Social Security record?"
"Stolen identity."
"Fingerprints?"
"Different."
Laura looked up.
"So who is he?"
Reed leaned back.
"We don't know."
"How did he become a private investigator?"
"He didn't."
"What?"
"He was never licensed."
Laura stared at him.
"Then how did Claire trust him?"
"That's what we're trying to determine."
Reed slid another photograph across the table.
Laura looked at it.
Her face changed.
It was an old photograph from the Hawthorne estate.
Richard.
Victor.
Gerald Pike.
And the unidentified man.
All standing together.
The date was five years before Claire disappeared.
Laura whispered:
"He was there long before the disappearance."
Reed nodded.
"Yes."
"Who took the photograph?"
"Gerald Pike."
"Then Pike knew him."
"Apparently."
Laura looked at the file.
"What happened to Pike?"
Reed didn't answer immediately.
"He didn't disappear."
Laura looked up.
"What?"
"He was murdered."
"When?"
"Six months after Claire disappeared."
Laura stared at him.
"The police report said accident."
Reed nodded.
"The original report did."
"And now?"
"I reopened it this morning."
Laura looked toward the door.
"Why?"
Reed pointed to the photograph.
"Because we found the same scar in another case."
"Whose?"
"Victor Hawthorne."
Laura frowned.
"Victor had no scar."
Reed nodded.
"Not in the photographs."
"Then what does that mean?"
"It means the man with the scar may have been impersonating Victor."
Laura stared at him.
"You're saying there were two men?"
"At least two."
She looked down at the photograph again.
Richard.
Victor.
Gerald.
And the mysterious man.
Four men.
Four secrets.
And one missing woman.
At Samuel's apartment, Ethan sat on the couch watching cartoons.
Samuel was in the kitchen.
He couldn't concentrate.
Every few minutes, he looked at the boy.
Ethan seemed calm now.
But Samuel knew better.
Children didn't simply forget fear.
They learned to hide it.
Samuel poured two glasses of water.
Then Ethan asked:
"Sam?"
"Yes?"
"Can I ask you something?"
"Anything."
"Why did Dad hate Mom?"
Samuel stopped.
"He didn't hate her."
"Then why did they fight?"
"Adults sometimes fight."
"But Mom was scared of him."
Samuel hesitated.
"She was scared of someone."
"Not Dad?"
"I don't know."
Ethan looked down.
"Mom told me Dad wasn't bad."
Samuel sat beside him.
"What exactly did she say?"
Ethan thought.
"She said Daddy was scared."
"Of what?"
"I don't know."
"Anything else?"
Ethan looked toward the window.
"She said Uncle Victor wasn't the worst one."
Samuel's heart stopped.
"What?"
Ethan nodded.
"She said that."
"When?"
"That night."
Samuel stood.
"What else?"
Ethan frowned.
"She said..."
He closed his eyes.
"There's someone above them."
Samuel felt a chill.
"Above who?"
"Mommy said Dad worked for him."
Samuel stared.
"Richard worked for someone?"
Ethan nodded.
"She said Daddy had to."
Samuel's mind raced.
Richard Hawthorne.
A billionaire.
A man who controlled his own company.
Who could possibly control him?
Ethan suddenly looked toward the hallway.
"Sam?"
"Yes?"
"Do you hear that?"
Samuel listened.
Nothing.
Then—
A soft scrape.
From outside the apartment door.
Samuel stood.
He motioned for Ethan to stay behind him.
Another sound.
Something slid beneath the door.
Samuel approached carefully.
It was a small envelope.
No name.
No address.
He opened it.
Inside was a single photograph.
Samuel looked at it.
His stomach dropped.
The picture showed Claire.
Alive.
Standing outside a motel.
And beside her stood Daniel Brooks.
On the back:
SHE TRUSTED HIM. YOU SHOULD NOT.
Samuel stared at the photograph.
Then another piece of paper fell from the envelope.
Three words.
ASK ABOUT BOSTON.
Laura received the same message ten minutes later.
She called Samuel.
He answered.
"I got something."
"So did I."
"What?"
"A photograph."
"Of Claire?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
"A motel in Boston."
Laura went silent.
"That's impossible."
"Why?"
"Because Claire never went to Boston."
"How do you know?"
"Because I checked."
Samuel's eyes narrowed.
"Then someone is lying."
Laura whispered:
"Maybe Claire wasn't in Boston."
"Then why the photograph?"
"Because someone wants us to think she was."
Samuel looked at the picture.
"Who?"
Laura paused.
"I don't know."
Then another thought occurred to her.
"Samuel."
"Yes?"
"Look at the motel sign."
Samuel examined the photograph.
There was a small neon sign behind Claire.
He zoomed in.
THE MARINER.
Laura inhaled sharply.
"That's not a motel."
"What is it?"
"A private club."
"Where?"
"Boston Harbor."
Samuel frowned.
"What does that matter?"
Laura's voice became tense.
"Because Victor Hawthorne owned it."
Samuel went still.
"Victor?"
"Yes."
"But Victor supposedly died four years ago."
"Exactly."
That afternoon, Detective Reed arrived at the Hawthorne estate.
Richard met him at the door.
"You need a warrant."
Reed showed his badge.
"I'm not here to search."
"Then why are you here?"
"I want to ask you about Victor."
Richard's expression changed.
"What about him?"
"Did he have a private club in Boston?"
Richard didn't answer.
Reed watched him.
"You did know."
Richard stepped aside.
"Come in."
They entered the library.
Richard closed the doors.
"Victor owned several properties."
"Which ones?"
"I don't remember."
"Boston?"
Richard looked toward the fireplace.
"Yes."
"What was the Mariner?"
Richard didn't answer.
Reed stepped closer.
"Mr. Hawthorne, your wife disappeared five years ago."
Richard flinched.
"Your brother supposedly died four years ago."
Silence.
"Your security chief was murdered six months after your wife's disappearance."
Richard stared at him.
"And now a private investigator using a dead man's identity has disappeared."
Reed placed the photograph on the table.
"All four events appear connected."
Richard looked at the picture.
Claire.
His face softened.
"She was alive."
"You knew?"
Richard shook his head.
"No."
"Then what do you know?"
Richard sat down.
"I know Victor wasn't working alone."
"Who was he working for?"
Richard looked at Reed.
"Someone who had control over my company."
Reed frowned.
"You own Hawthorne Financial."
"On paper."
"What does that mean?"
Richard lowered his voice.
"There were people behind the company."
"Investors?"
"No."
"Then who?"
Richard looked toward the door.
"I never knew his real name."
Reed's expression sharpened.
"His?"
Richard nodded.
"Victor called him..."
He stopped.
"What?"
Richard swallowed.
"The Chairman."
Reed stared at him.
"Who is the Chairman?"
Richard shook his head.
"I don't know."
"How did you communicate?"
"Through Victor."
"Did he ever meet you?"
"Once."
"When?"
"Five years ago."
"The night Claire disappeared?"
Richard nodded.
Reed leaned forward.
"What did he look like?"
Richard's eyes became distant.
"Black coat."
Reed's face changed.
"Scar?"
Richard nodded.
"Across his throat."
Reed whispered:
"Brooks."
Richard looked at him.
"Who?"
Reed stood.
"Now we know who we're looking for."
That evening, Claire sat alone in a small room overlooking Boston Harbor.
She had changed her name twice.
She had crossed three states.
She had slept in cheap motels and safe houses.
She had spent five years avoiding the people who wanted her silent.
But now she had returned.
Because Ethan had been taken into court.
Because the truth was finally surfacing.
And because she could no longer watch from a distance.
Her phone vibrated.
One message.
THE BOY KNOWS.
Claire's hands trembled.
Another message.
SAMUEL REMEMBERS.
Then a third.
LEAVE BOSTON.
Claire looked out the window.
"No."
She deleted the messages.
Then she opened a drawer.
Inside was a small blue memory card.
Not the one found in Samuel's cleaning room.
Another one.
She held it tightly.
"This time," she whispered, "I'm telling him everything."
She stood.
But before she could leave, someone knocked.
Three times.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Claire froze.
The exact same rhythm.
The same sound she remembered from five years ago.
She slowly approached the door.
"Who is it?"
Silence.
Then a man's voice.
"Claire."
Her blood turned cold.
It was Daniel Brooks.
Or the man pretending to be him.
She stepped backward.
The voice came again.
"Open the door."
Claire whispered:
"No."
A pause.
Then:
"You should have listened to Victor."
Claire looked toward the window.
There was nowhere to run.
The lock began turning.
She backed away.
Then the door opened.
A man in a black coat stepped inside.
A scar ran across his throat.
Claire stared at him.
"You."
He smiled.
"You remember me."
Claire's eyes filled with terror.
"You killed Gerald."
"No."
"You made Victor disappear."
"No."
"Then who?"
The man's smile faded.
"I never wanted any of this."
Claire shook her head.
"You're lying."
He stepped closer.
"I came to warn you."
"About what?"
He looked toward the blue memory card in her hand.
"That card contains the truth."
Claire tightened her grip.
"Yes."
"But you don't know what happens if you play it."
She stared at him.
"What happens?"
The man lowered his voice.
"Your son dies."
Claire's face went white.
"You touch him and I swear—"
He interrupted.
"I'm not threatening you."
"Then who is?"
He looked toward the window.
"Someone who has been watching Ethan since the day he was born."
Claire's breathing stopped.
"Who?"
The man stepped closer.
Then whispered a name.
Claire stared at him in disbelief.
"No."
He nodded.
"Yes."
She shook her head.
"That's impossible."
"It's not."
He turned toward the door.
"Find Samuel."
"Why?"
"Because he knows where the third recording is."
Claire froze.
"Third?"
The man smiled.
"Your husband found the first."
"Who has the second?"
"You."
"And the third?"
He opened the door.
"Your son."
Claire stared.
The man disappeared into the hallway.
She stood frozen.
Then she looked down at the blue memory card.
Her hands trembled.
"Ethan..."
Three hundred miles away, Ethan was asleep.
Samuel sat beside him.
The boy suddenly opened his eyes.
"Sam."
Samuel leaned closer.
"What is it?"
Ethan whispered:
"I remember where the third recording is."
Samuel froze.
"Where?"
Ethan pointed toward his chest.
"Mommy gave it to me."
Samuel frowned.
"Where did she put it?"
Ethan reached beneath his shirt.
A thin chain hung around his neck.
At the end was a small silver pendant.
Samuel stared.
"I've never seen that before."
Ethan opened the pendant.
Inside was a tiny memory chip.
Samuel's breath caught.
"How long have you had that?"
Ethan looked at him.
"Since the night Mommy disappeared."
Samuel stared at the chip.
Then his phone rang.
Laura.
He answered.
"Samuel."
"Yes?"
"We found something."
"What?"
"The identity of the man using Daniel Brooks' name."
Samuel waited.
Laura's voice dropped.
"His real name is Jonathan Vale."
Samuel's eyes widened.
"Who is Jonathan Vale?"
Laura answered:
"The man who owned Hawthorne Financial before Richard."
Samuel looked at Ethan.
The boy was holding the pendant.
Laura continued:
"And Samuel..."
"Yes?"
"Jonathan Vale has been officially dead for twenty-two years."
Samuel looked toward the dark window.
A cold realization settled over him.
Everyone they had been chasing...
had already been declared dead.
Victor.
Brooks.
Vale.
And yet all three had somehow been alive.
Samuel whispered:
"This isn't just a custody case."
Laura answered:
"No."
Her voice trembled.
"It's a conspiracy."
Then Ethan suddenly screamed.
Samuel turned.
The bedroom window was open.
The curtains moved in the cold night air.
And the silver pendant was gone.
May you like
Someone had taken it.
While Ethan slept.
