Chapter 7: The Man at the Door
“Marcus?””
Thomas Reed’s voice came through the door again.
I looked at Michael.
“Go upstairs.””
“No.””
“Michael.””
“I’m not hiding again.””
His voice shook, but he didn't move.
Claire stepped beside me.
“Let me talk to him.””
I shook my head.
“No.””
David whispered, “Marcus, you don't know what he's capable of.””
I looked at him.
“Neither do you.””
Sarah stood near the couch, pale and trembling.
Thomas knocked once more.
“Marcus, I know you're all inside.””
I unlocked the deadbolt.
Claire grabbed my arm.
“Don't.””
I looked at her.
“What if he came here because he knows something we don't?””
“That's exactly why you shouldn't open the door.””
I pulled the door open.
Thomas stood on the porch.
He was older than he had looked in the photographs.
Late fifties.
Gray hair.
Dark coat.
No umbrella.
Rain ran down his face.
His eyes moved past me.
Straight to Michael.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he whispered:
“Laura's boy.””
Michael stepped forward.
“Who is Laura?””
Thomas looked at Sarah.
She lowered her eyes.
“You told me she was dead,” he said.
Sarah swallowed.
“She is.””
Thomas looked back at Michael.
“No.””
I stepped outside.
“You don't get to come into my house and confuse my son.””
Thomas's expression hardened.
“Your house?””
“Yes.””
“You still think everything in this world belongs to you.””
I grabbed his coat.
“What happened to Laura?””
Thomas didn't resist.
“She was murdered.””
My grip tightened.
“By whom?””
He looked at Sarah.
“Ask her.””
Sarah came toward the door.
“Thomas, please.””
He laughed bitterly.
“Please?””
“You promised.””
“I promised your brother.””
David went still.
Thomas looked past me.
“And I kept that promise for sixteen years.””
I stared at him.
“What promise?””
Thomas looked at Michael.
“To keep him alive.””
Michael's face tightened.
“Why would I need protection?””
“Because the people who wanted your mother dead wanted you too.””
I shook my head.
“You're lying.””
Thomas reached inside his coat.
I moved instinctively.
He stopped.
Slowly, he pulled out a photograph.
He handed it to me.
It showed a hospital nursery.
A newborn baby lay behind glass.
Written on the back was a date.
Michael's birth date.
And beneath it:
*Baby Boy Bennett — Transfer Authorized.*
My stomach dropped.
“Bennett?””
Claire stepped closer.
She saw the photograph.
Her face changed.
“That's my sister.””
Thomas nodded.
“Laura gave birth to him.””
I looked at Michael.
He was staring at the photograph.
“That’s me?””
Thomas nodded.
“Yes.””
Michael whispered, “Then why did Mom raise me?””
Thomas looked at him.
“Because Laura didn't want you to disappear.””
“Disappear where?””
“Into the system.””
Claire stepped forward.
“What system?””
Thomas looked at her.
“The one your sister was investigating.””
Claire's face tightened.
“My sister investigated adoptions.””
“She investigated babies being sold.””
Silence.
David whispered, “Thomas…”
Thomas turned toward him.
“You knew.””
David looked away.
Thomas pointed at Sarah.
“She knew too.””
Sarah began crying.
Michael turned toward her.
“You knew my mother?””
Sarah nodded.
“Laura?””
“Yes.””
“How?””
Sarah couldn't answer.
Thomas did.
“She was Sarah's friend.””
I looked at Sarah.
“You knew Laura before you met me.””
“Yes.””
“You knew Michael before you met me.””
“Yes.””
“And you never told me.””
“No.””
“Why?””
Sarah looked at Michael.
“Because Laura asked me to protect you.””
Michael stared at her.
“You protected me by lying?””
“I thought I was.””
“You kept me away from Dad.””
“I was trying to keep you alive.””
His voice broke.
“Then why did you treat me like I wasn't family?””
Sarah covered her mouth.
I stepped toward her.
“That is the question, Sarah.””
She looked at me.
“I didn't know how to love a child who reminded me of everything I had done.””
The admission silenced everyone.
Thomas stepped inside.
“Now you understand.””
I blocked him.
“I understand nothing.””
He reached into his pocket again.
This time, he pulled out a small envelope.
The paper was worn.
My name was written across it.
*Marcus.*
My hands went cold.
“Where did you get that?””
“Emily.””
“That's impossible.””
“She gave it to me the night she died.””
I took it.
Thomas said, “She knew she might not survive.””
I opened it.
Inside was one page.
Emily's handwriting.
Marcus, if Thomas gives you this, believe him about one thing: Michael is not the danger.
I read the sentence twice.
Then:
The danger is someone much closer to you.
My eyes moved down.
I was wrong to keep this from you. I thought I could solve it alone.
The next line was smeared.
Then one sentence remained clear.
If Sarah says Laura died before Michael was born, don't believe her.
I looked up.
Sarah was crying.
“Why did she write that?””
Sarah shook her head.
“I don't know.””
Thomas said quietly, “Because Laura was alive after Michael was born.””
Claire turned toward him.
“You told me Laura died in childbirth.””
“I lied.””
“Why?””
“Because I was trying to keep the person who killed her from finding Michael.””
I stared at him.
“Who killed Laura?””
Thomas looked at Sarah.
Sarah whispered, “No.””
Thomas nodded.
“Yes.””
I turned to Sarah.
“You killed Laura?””
“No.””
“Then who?””
Thomas looked at me.
“Your wife.””
The room erupted.
“No,” I said.
Thomas didn't blink.
“Emily killed Laura.””
Michael backed away.
“My mom wouldn't.””
“She didn't mean to.””
“What does that mean?””
Thomas's voice softened.
“Laura was going to expose the adoption network. Emily was helping her.””
He looked at the letter.
“Then Laura disappeared.””
I shook my head.
“You're saying my wife killed her own source?””
“No.””
“Then why blame her?””
“Because Emily believed she had.””
Claire stepped closer.
“What really happened?””
Thomas looked at her.
“Laura was taken.””
“By whom?””
Thomas's eyes moved toward the staircase.
“That's what Emily was trying to discover.””
I followed his gaze.
Nobody was there.
But a shadow moved across the upstairs wall.
Someone was standing at the top of the stairs.
I reached for Michael.
“Stay behind me.””
The lights went out.
Someone screamed.
Then I heard glass shatter upstairs.
May you like
When the lights came back on, the person at the staircase was gone.
And so was the envelope Emily had written to me.
