Chapter 7 - THE LIFE BEFORE ME
We drove back to Birchwood Lane in silence.
The police had cleared the house.
But it no longer felt like our home.
It felt like evidence.
A place where everyone had left pieces of themselves behind.
Rachael sat at the kitchen table.
I stood across from her.
“Were you married before me?”
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
Then she closed her eyes.
“I wasn't legally married.”
I waited.
“Explain.”
“When I was twenty-three, my father arranged an engagement.”
“To whom?”
“Daniel Mercer.”
My stomach tightened.
“Same name as me?”
“No.”
She looked at me.
“His name was Daniel Mercer.”
“Who was he?”
“A family associate.”
“What happened?”
“He disappeared.”
“When?”
“Sixteen years ago.”
The same year Felicity was born.
I sat down.
“Was there a child?”
Rachael started crying.
“Yes.”
I couldn't speak.
“Where is that child?”
“I don't know.”
“Rachael.”
“I swear.”
“You knew?”
“I knew there was a baby.”
“Whose?”
“His.”
She looked at me.
“Daniel's.”
My mind raced.
Felicity was sixteen.
The photograph showed a child.
A secret baby.
A vanished man.
A missing watch.
Everything seemed connected.
But something still didn't fit.
“Why did your father hide the child?”
“Because Daniel was involved in something dangerous.”
“Criminal?”
“Yes.”
“Then why protect him?”
“He wasn't protecting Daniel.”
She lowered her voice.
“He was protecting the baby.”
Hale arrived an hour later.
I gave him everything.
He listened.
Then he said,
“There's something you need to understand.”
“What?”
“We found records of a man named Daniel Mercer.”
He placed a file on the table.
“Born in Ohio.”
“That's him.”
“Maybe.”
He opened the file.
“Died sixteen years ago.”
I stared at the page.
“How?”
“Car accident.”
“Where?”
“Outside Tacoma.”
Rachael covered her mouth.
“That wasn't an accident.”
Hale looked at her.
“Why?”
“Because my father told me Daniel ran away.”
I looked at the date.
Sixteen years ago.
The same week Felicity was born.
Then Hale placed another document down.
“There's more.”
A hospital record.
A baby.
Mother: unknown.
Father: Daniel Mercer.
The child was born alive.
But the name field was blank.
“Where did the child go?”
“That's what we're trying to determine.”
I looked at Rachael.
“Was it a boy?”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever see him?”
She nodded.
“Once.”
“How old?”
“A few days.”
“Where?”
“My father's house.”
“What happened?”
“Daniel's mother came for him.”
“And?”
“She disappeared.”
Hale leaned forward.
“Did your father arrange it?”
“I don't know.”
I believed her.
But there was another problem.
“Why did Evan say I was connected?”
Rachael stared at me.
“I don't know.”
Hale answered.
“Because your name may have been used.”
“What does that mean?”
“Your military records show you were stationed overseas during the period in question.”
“Yes.”
“So you couldn't have been involved.”
“Unless someone used his identity,” Rachael said.
I looked at her.
She suddenly remembered something.
“Daniel.”
“What?”
“Your middle name.”
“James.”
She nodded.
“That's what Daniel Mercer called himself.”
I stared at her.
For the first time, I understood.
Someone had built an identity around my name.
Someone had wanted the real Daniel Mercer to disappear.
Then Felicity walked into the room.
A nurse had brought her downstairs for a brief change of scenery.
She looked exhausted.
But she was standing.
I knelt.
“You shouldn't be out of bed.”
“I wanted to see you.”
I hugged her carefully.
Then she looked at Rachael.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Why did Grandpa give me the necklace?”
Rachael froze.
“I don't know.”
“He said it belonged to someone.”
“Who?”
Felicity thought.
“A boy.”
My heart pounded.
“What boy?”
“I don't remember.”
She touched the pendant.
“He said someday I might meet him.”
Hale looked at me.
“Did your grandfather ever say his name?”
Felicity shook her head.
“He called him Little Jack.”
Rachael began crying.
“Jack.”
“What?”
She looked at us.
“That was Daniel's nickname.”
Silence.
The child.
The missing boy.
Daniel's son.
But then Felicity spoke again.
“He wasn't little.”
We all looked at her.
“What do you mean?”
“He was in Grandpa's house when I was seven.”
My blood ran cold.
“You saw him?”
“Yes.”
“What did he look like?”
She frowned.
“Older.”
“How old?”
“Maybe twelve.”
“That would be impossible.”
“I know.”
She looked frustrated.
“He said Grandpa wasn't his grandfather.”
Rachael stepped closer.
“What else?”
“He told me not to tell anyone.”
“Why?”
“Because someone was watching him.”
“Who?”
Felicity looked at me.
“A man wearing Dad's old Army jacket.”
My heart stopped.
I had given that jacket away years ago.
Or thought I had.
Hale stood.
“Where is that jacket now?”
I didn't answer.
Because I suddenly remembered.
It wasn't gone.
I had seen it two days earlier.
In our garage.
And when I had arrived home, it was gone.
Someone had taken it.
Someone had been inside our house before Felicity was attacked.
And that meant the person watching the boy wasn't looking for the past.
They were still looking for him.
Hale's phone rang.
He listened.
Then he looked at me.
“We found the man who owned the jacket.”
“Who?”
May you like
Hale's face was grim.
“Your commanding officer.”
