Chapter 4 - THE MAN WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD
Dorian did not sleep that night.
Neither did Marin.
They sat across from each other in his private study while the photograph lay between them.
Neither wanted to say what both were thinking.
Finally Marin spoke.
“Maybe the date is wrong.”
Dorian shook his head.
“The photograph was taken with a digital camera.”
“That doesn't mean the date is correct.”
“No.”
He picked it up.
“But the building behind them opened seven years ago.”
Marin looked at him.
“So?”
“My father supposedly died two years before it opened.”
Silence.
Dorian's father had been buried.
Dorian had attended the funeral.
He remembered the coffin.
He remembered the priest.
He remembered standing beside his mother while rain struck the cemetery umbrellas.
He remembered believing that whatever darkness had surrounded his father's business ended with the burial.
Now he wondered whether the darkness had simply changed names.
Dorian called an old family physician.
Then a funeral director.
Then the cemetery administrator.
Each conversation created another question.
The medical certificate existed.
The death certificate existed.
The burial record existed.
But there was no publicly available forensic identification.
Dorian stared at the copies.
“Why wouldn't there be?”
Elena answered carefully.
“Because the family requested privacy.”
“Who requested it?”
“My mother.”
Dorian looked at her.
“She was grieving.”
“Or protecting someone.”
He hated himself for saying it.
But he could no longer pretend.
Marin placed a hand over the papers.
“Don't destroy your memories because someone may have lied.”
Dorian looked at her.
“I don't know which memories are mine anymore.”
She moved closer.
“This is not your fault.”
He gave a bitter laugh.
“You don't know that.”
“I know enough.”
“How?”
“Because you didn't know.”
He looked at her.
“You think that matters?”
“Yes.”
“It matters to me.”
“It should.”
Marin squeezed his hand.
“But ignorance isn't the same as innocence forever.”
Dorian understood.
That was exactly what she was telling him.
If he discovered something wrong, he had a responsibility to act.
Even if the truth destroyed his image of his father.
Even if it embarrassed his organization.
Even if it cost him money.
So he did.
The investigation became independent.
No Vance employee was allowed to control the evidence.
Every record was duplicated.
Every investigator reported to outside counsel.
Dorian even gave Marin access to everything.
She was stunned.
“You're giving me the keys to your organization.”
“No.”
“What then?”
“The keys to the truth.”
The first breakthrough came from a retired mortician.
His name was Harold Bennett.
He remembered Dorian's father's funeral.
“Mr. Vance wasn't the man in the coffin.”
Dorian sat completely still.
“Explain.”
Harold rubbed his hands together.
“The family insisted the casket remain closed.”
“My mother said he was badly injured.”
“She did.”
“Was he?”
Harold hesitated.
“I never saw his face.”
Dorian's heart hammered.
“Then why did you sign the paperwork?”
“Because the family physician confirmed the identity.”
“Who?”
“Dr. Elias Moore.”
Dorian knew the name.
His father's physician.
Dead for five years.
Harold continued.
“There was another strange thing.”
“What?”
“The man was buried with a silver watch.”
Dorian frowned.
“My father's watch?”
“Yes.”
“What was strange?”
“The watch stopped at 11:42.”
Dorian's face changed.
His father had worn a distinctive gold watch.
Not silver.
The family photographs proved it.
Dorian looked at Marin.
“This is insane.”
She nodded.
“It is.”
“But it is happening.”
“Yes.”
The next day, they found Dr. Moore's old assistant.
She was eighty-one and lived in Arizona.
Her name was Patricia Lane.
She agreed to speak by video.
“I remember the death,” she said.
“Did you see Mr. Vance?”
“No.”
“Did Dr. Moore?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“The night before the funeral.”
Marin leaned forward.
“What did he say?”
Patricia hesitated.
“He said something strange.”
“What?”
“He said, ‘Tell them the old man is gone.’”
Dorian's face tightened.
“Who was he talking to?”
“I don't know.”
“Did you hear another voice?”
“Yes.”
“Whose?”
She shook her head.
“I'm sorry.”
Dorian pressed.
“Please.”
Patricia looked at Marin.
Then back at him.
“It was a younger man.”
“Could you identify him?”
“No.”
“What did he say?”
Patricia closed her eyes.
“He said, ‘The son cannot know.’”
Dorian stopped breathing.
Marin felt her chest tighten.
“Which son?”
Patricia whispered—
“You.”
The call ended shortly afterward.
Dorian stood by the window.
For a long time, he said nothing.
Marin joined him.
“You okay?”
“No.”
She nodded.
“Good.”
He looked at her.
“Good?”
“You don't have to be okay.”
He exhaled.
Then his phone rang.
Gabriel.
“We found a property.”
“Where?”
“Outside Lake Geneva.”
“Whose?”
“Martin Hale.”
Dorian looked at Marin.
“Is he there?”
“No.”
“Then what did you find?”
Gabriel paused.
“Documents.”
“What kind?”
“Birth records.”
Dorian's eyes narrowed.
“For who?”
“Martin Hale.”
Then Gabriel said something that made Dorian sit down.
“His legal name isn't Martin Hale.”
Marin stared.
“What is it?”
Gabriel's voice lowered.
“Marcus Vance.”
Dorian felt the world tilt.
“That's impossible.”
Gabriel continued.
“Marcus Vance was your father's younger brother.”
Dorian remembered the name.
His uncle.
A man everyone had said died in a boating accident when Dorian was five.
Another dead man.
Another story.
Another lie.
Dorian whispered—
“My family has been lying to me for decades.”
Marin sat beside him.
“Maybe.”
He looked at her.
“Maybe?”
“We don't know everything yet.”
Then Gabriel spoke again.
“There is one more problem.”
“What?”
“The property has been occupied.”
“By whom?”
Gabriel hesitated.
“A woman and a teenage boy.”
Dorian's voice hardened.
“Who are they?”
“We're still identifying them.”
Marin looked at him.
“What if they know where Marcus is?”
Dorian stood.
“Then we're going to find out.”
But when they arrived at the lake property that evening, the house was empty.
On the kitchen table was a single envelope.
Dorian opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
A young Dorian stood beside his father.
Behind them was a little girl.
Dorian stared.
He had never seen her before.
May you like
On the back of the photograph were six words.
YOUR FATHER HAD ANOTHER CHILD.
