Chapter 4 - THE MAN IN THE PHOTOGRAPH
I grabbed Leo before Ivan could say another word.
He was still half asleep when I carried him downstairs.
“Mom?”
“Come on, buddy.”
“What's wrong?”
“Nothing.”
It was the first lie I had ever hated saying to my son.
Ivan checked the doors.
Every lock.
Every window.
Then he walked through the house room by room.
No broken glass.
No damaged lock.
Nothing missing.
Whoever had taken the photograph had either been inside recently or had access to something we didn't understand.
My hands would not stop shaking.
Daniel arrived forty minutes later.
He was the oldest of my five brothers and the one I called when I needed someone to make panic sound like a plan.
He looked at the photograph.
Then at Ivan.
“Who else has access to this house?”
“No one,” Ivan said.
Daniel ignored him.
“Jessi?”
“Family. Cleaning service once a week.”
“Anyone else?”
“No.”
He looked at the photograph again.
“Don't delete anything.”
“I won't.”
“Don't forward it.”
“Why?”
“Because metadata matters.”
Ivan frowned.
Daniel looked at him.
“Don't touch anything else either.”
For once, Ivan didn't argue.
By noon, Marcus arrived.
Then Ethan.
Then Noah.
Luke came last.
Five brothers.
One kitchen.
And one wooden box in the center of the table.
Nobody joked.
Nobody asked whether this could wait.
Luke picked up the photograph of my father's old house.
He studied it for a long time.
“Where was this taken?”
“I don't know.”
“Do you recognize the road?”
“No.”
He turned it over.
“Date?”
I showed him.
He frowned.
“This is after the accident.”
“Yes.”
“So either the photograph is fake, or your father was alive.”
I swallowed.
“That's what I'm afraid of.”
Ethan took the phone.
“Don't worry. I'm not hacking anything.”
“I wasn't thinking that.”
“I know.”
He examined the image that had been sent to me.
“Whoever sent this didn't strip the file completely.”
“What does that mean?”
“There are remnants.”
“Can you tell where it came from?”
“Not exactly.”
He paused.
“But I can tell you something.”
“What?”
“The image was taken with a phone that was physically close to the table.”
I stared at him.
“That sounds obvious.”
“It isn't.”
He zoomed in.
“There is a reflection here.”
A tiny reflection appeared in the polished wood.
A dark shape.
Someone's sleeve.
And on the wrist—
a watch.
I leaned closer.
I knew that watch.
My stomach dropped.
“Ivan.”
He looked at me.
“That is your watch.”
He stared at the photograph.
“No.”
“It is.”
“No.”
I grabbed his wrist.
He was wearing the same watch.
Silver case.
Black leather strap.
A small scratch near the crown.
He had given it to me on our tenth anniversary.
I had given it back two years later after the battery died.
He had said he would get it repaired.
Then he told me he lost it.
I looked at him.
“Where is that watch?”
“I don't know.”
“You said you lost it.”
“I did.”
Ethan zoomed in again.
“This photo was taken by someone wearing it.”
Ivan's face tightened.
“I haven't worn that watch in years.”
Luke looked at him.
“Then someone has access to it.”
The room went silent.
Marcus broke it.
“Where did you keep it?”
“I don't know.”
Daniel stood.
“Search the house.”
We did.
Closets.
Drawers.
Storage bins.
Nothing.
Then Leo came downstairs.
He was carrying a drawing.
“Mom?”
I turned.
“What is it?”
He held it toward me.
“I found this under Dad's desk.”
My heart stopped.
It was a child's drawing.
A house.
Three people.
Me.
Leo.
And Ivan.
But there was another person standing behind the house.
A man.
Tall.
Wearing a dark coat.
I crouched.
“Who is this?”
Leo shrugged.
“Grandpa.”
I looked at Ivan.
“Why did you draw Grandpa?”
“I didn't.”
“What?”
“I didn't draw him.”
I turned the paper over.
There was writing on the back.
Not Leo's handwriting.
An adult's.
You were never supposed to know him.
I couldn't breathe.
Luke took the drawing.
“Leo, where did you get this?”
“Under Dad's desk.”
“Did you see anyone put it there?”
Leo shook his head.
“No.”
Then he looked at Ivan.
“Dad?”
Ivan crouched.
“Yeah?”
“Why does Grandpa look like you?”
Nobody moved.
I looked at the drawing again.
The face was crude.
But there was a distinctive scar drawn beneath the left eye.
A scar my father had.
A scar Ivan did not have.
I remembered it.
Suddenly, another memory surfaced.
A photograph from my childhood.
My father standing outside the house.
Beside him was another man.
Same height.
Same dark coat.
Same scar.
I had always thought it was a shadow.
Now I wasn't sure.
That afternoon, Ethan found something else.
The photograph of the house had been scanned years ago.
Not recently.
Someone had accessed an old digital archive.
A family photo archive.
Mine.
I stared at the screen.
“How could someone access that?”
Ethan looked at me.
“Through an account.”
“What account?”
“Your old cloud account.”
I felt sick.
“I haven't used that in years.”
“Someone has.”
Ivan looked at Ethan.
“Can you see who?”
“Not without proper authorization.”
Daniel nodded.
“We do this legally.”
Ethan closed the laptop.
Then Luke asked a question nobody had considered.
“Jessi, when did you first start visiting your mother?”
“Eight years ago.”
“Who told you where she was?”
I hesitated.
“A letter.”
“From whom?”
“I don't know.”
“Was it signed?”
“No.”
“Did it contain anything else?”
I thought.
Then remembered.
“A bracelet.”
Everyone looked at me.
“My mother had this same bracelet.”
I opened the wooden box.
The silver bracelet was lying beside the photograph.
Luke stared at it.
Then he looked at the tiny blue stone.
“That's not a decorative stone.”
“What is it?”
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he turned it over.
There was a tiny marking underneath.
A number.
Four digits.
Marcus recognized it first.
“That looks like an inventory code.”
“Inventory for what?”
Luke looked at me.
“Something that was documented.”
I picked up the bracelet.
Then the front door opened.
No one had heard the lock turn.
A man stood outside.
Older.
Gray-haired.
Wearing a dark coat.
And a silver watch with a black leather strap.
The same watch from the photograph.
He looked directly at me.
May you like
Then he said,
“Jessica, your father wants you to stop looking.”
