Chapter 3 - THE WATCH STOPPED AT 4:17
The diner suddenly felt too small.
“Yesterday?” I repeated.
“Yes, sir.”
Bennett sounded almost as stunned as I was.
“The file was corrupted when investigators originally received it. Our technical team recovered the original timestamp this afternoon.”
I looked at Emily.
She was quietly finishing her toast.
She had no idea that the photograph in my hand had just changed everything.
“Where was it taken?”
Bennett hesitated.
“That's the problem.”
“What problem?”
“The location data was removed.”
I closed my eyes.
Someone had deliberately stripped the evidence.
“Can you recover it?”
“We're trying.”
“Try faster.”
“Yes, sir.”
I ended the call.
Emily looked up.
“Are you going to find him?”
I stared at her.
“Yes.”
She nodded as though she had already decided that was true.
Then she asked,
“Can I come?”
I almost said no.
Then I remembered what she had told me.
She knew places my investigators didn't.
She had seen Lucas.
She had survived on those streets.
And she had trusted me enough to hand over the only food she owned.
“Only if you stay beside me.”
She nodded.
“And you do exactly what I say.”
Another nod.
“Deal.”
We left the diner.
The rain had become heavier.
I placed Emily in the back seat of an official SUV that Major Bennett had sent.
She stared at the leather seats.
“Is this yours?”
“No.”
“Whose?”
“The Army's.”
She looked impressed.
“Do soldiers get cars?”
“Sometimes.”
“Do they get soup?”
I smiled.
“Only after missions.”
She considered that.
“Then soup should be mandatory.”
For the first time in a year, I laughed.
It felt strange.
Almost wrong.
But necessary.
Twenty minutes later, we reached Saint Matthew's.
The church stood dark against the rain.
Emily pointed toward the alley behind it.
“There.”
I followed.
There was an old wooden bench beneath a broken awning.
Someone had scratched initials into it.
L.R.
Lucas Ross.
My knees nearly gave out.
He had been here.
Recently.
I touched the letters.
They were fresh.
Very fresh.
Emily pointed toward the ground.
“He sat there.”
“How do you know?”
“He gave me the picture here.”
I crouched.
There were footprints in the mud.
Small shoes.
And larger ones.
Two sets.
One pair belonged to a woman.
I followed them.
They disappeared near the road.
Then I saw something caught beneath the bench.
A red thread.
I pulled it free.
It matched Lucas's backpack.
My hands began shaking.
“He was here yesterday.”
Emily nodded.
Then she pointed across the street.
“She parked there.”
A dark sedan.
Gone now.
But a security camera covered the intersection.
I called Bennett.
“Pull the traffic footage.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Yesterday, around four.”
I looked at the watch.
4:17.
The stopped time.
Maybe it wasn't random.
Maybe that was when something happened.
Five minutes later, Bennett called.
“We have the vehicle.”
“What make?”
“Black Ford sedan.”
“License?”
“Partial only.”
“Send it.”
My phone vibrated.
A plate fragment appeared.
I recognized the state.
Illinois.
Then Bennett said,
“General, the vehicle was registered to a private security company.”
“Which one?”
He named it.
I knew the company.
They had provided security for several federal contractors.
I also knew their founder.
Marcus Hale.
A former Army intelligence officer.
Someone I had worked with twelve years earlier.
“What does Marcus Hale have to do with my son?”
“I don't know.”
“Find out.”
I turned to Emily.
She was staring at the church.
“What's wrong?”
She pointed.
“That's her.”
A blonde woman stood across the street.
She was watching us.
The moment our eyes met, she turned.
“Stay here.”
I ran.
She disappeared around the corner.
I chased her through the alley.
“Stop!”
She kept moving.
I was faster.
I caught up near a chain-link fence.
She turned.
Her face was pale.
“You shouldn't be looking for him.”
“Where is my son?”
“I don't know.”
“You were with him yesterday.”
“I was trying to protect him.”
“From whom?”
She hesitated.
“From you.”
That answer stunned me.
“Why would Lucas need protection from his father?”
“Because you don't know what your ex-wife told him.”
“My ex-wife has been missing for a year.”
The woman's expression changed.
“You don't know where she is?”
“No.”
She looked genuinely surprised.
Then she stepped closer.
“She isn't missing.”
My blood went cold.
“What did you say?”
“She left because she was afraid.”
“Of me?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
She looked behind me.
“Someone who has been watching your family for years.”
“Who?”
Before she could answer, a car horn sounded.
She turned.
I grabbed her arm.
“Don't.”
She looked at me.
“I have five seconds.”
“For what?”
“To decide whether I trust you.”
I released her.
She reached into her coat.
Then she handed me a small bracelet.
Silver.
With a blue stone.
“Your son gave this to me.”
I stared at it.
“Where did he get it?”
“Your ex-wife.”
My heart stopped.
“Where is she?”
The woman shook her head.
“I don't know.”
Then she whispered,
“But Lucas does.”
She ran.
I didn't follow.
I couldn't.
I was staring at the bracelet.
It was engraved inside.
One word.
SARAH.
My ex-wife's name.
And beneath it was a date.
November 17.
Tomorrow.
My phone rang.
Bennett.
“General.”
“What?”
“We found the black sedan.”
“Where?”
“Abandoned near Union Freight Yard.”
My eyes lifted toward the dark skyline.
“Any sign of Lucas?”
Silence.
“Bennett.”
“We found his red backpack.”
I closed my eyes.
“Anything inside?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What?”
“Your son's school notebook.”
“Is it intact?”
“No.”
“What happened?”
“There are pages torn out.”
“Anything left?”
Bennett's voice became quiet.
“One sentence.”
“What does it say?”
He read it.
“Dad, if you find this, don't trust Mom.”
I stared at the bracelet.
Sarah.
November 17.
Tomorrow.
Then Emily whispered beside me,
“Lucas told me your wife wasn't the bad one.”
I turned.
“What did he say?”
May you like
Emily looked toward the abandoned yard.
“He said the bad man was someone you called Uncle.”
