Chapter 2 - THE BOY WHO WOULDN’T LEAVENoah's grandfather refused my money.
That surprised me.
Most people who discovered exactly who I was reacted in one of two ways.
They either became afraid.
Or they became greedy.
Samuel Carter did neither.
He stood beside my hospital bed with his arms crossed and said, “My grandson doesn't need your money.”
“He saved my life.”
“He saved a man.”
“He saved me.”
Samuel's eyes hardened.
“You're not going to turn him into part of your world.”
I almost smiled.
“You don't know my world.”
“I know enough.”
He looked at the security men outside the room.
“I've lived in these mountains for sixty-eight years. Men with expensive cars and armed guards don't come here because they want peace.”
I respected him immediately.
Noah was sitting on the windowsill.
Goliath slept beneath him.
The boy looked at me.
“Are you famous?”
“No.”
Marcus coughed.
Noah looked suspicious.
“Your men act like you're famous.”
“They're dramatic.”
Marcus stared at me.
I ignored him.
Noah smiled.
Then he asked the question I expected eventually.
“Are you dangerous?”
The room became quiet.
I could have lied.
Instead, I said:
“Sometimes.”
Noah thought about that.
“Were you dangerous when Goliath found you?”
“Yes.”
“To me?”
“No.”
“Why?”
I looked at him.
“Because you saved me.”
He nodded as though that explained everything.
Children had a remarkable ability to simplify things adults spent years making complicated.
I wanted Noah out of my life.
That was the logical decision.
But logic had never survived long around family.
Especially mine.
The hospital security officer entered.
“Mr. Vale, someone attempted to access the east stairwell.”
Marcus immediately moved.
“How many?”
“One.”
“Caught?”
The officer nodded.
“Gone before we reached him.”
I looked at Samuel.
He understood.
“So it begins,” he said.
“What?”
He glanced at Noah.
“Your grandson stays with me.”
“No,” I said.
Samuel turned.
“You don't give orders here.”
“I wasn't giving an order.”
“Sounded like one.”
“I was saying the safest place for him is with me.”
Samuel laughed bitterly.
“The safest place for a nine-year-old boy is nowhere near you.”
He was right.
I hated that.
Before I could respond, the lights went out.
The room plunged into darkness.
Goliath stood immediately.
Noah whispered:
“Grandpa?”
“Stay down.”
The emergency lights flickered.
A gunshot cracked somewhere down the corridor.
Then another.
Marcus drew his weapon.
“Down!”
I moved despite the pain.
My body screamed.
But I reached Noah before anyone else.
I pulled him behind the bed.
Samuel shielded Goliath.
Three men appeared at the doorway.
The first raised his gun.
Marcus fired.
The man dropped.
The second turned.
I grabbed the IV pole and swung it into his wrist.
His weapon hit the floor.
The third ran.
Marcus chased him.
I looked at Noah.
He was shaking.
But he wasn't crying.
“Are you hurt?”
He shook his head.
“Goliath?”
The dog pressed against him.
“Fine.”
Samuel stared at me.
Something had changed in his expression.
“You protected him.”
I looked at Noah.
“Of course.”
The surviving attacker was captured outside.
Marcus returned twenty minutes later.
He looked furious.
“We have a problem.”
“What?”
The attacker had been carrying a photograph.
Marcus placed it on the bed.
It showed Noah.
Taken outside his school.
Three days earlier.
My blood went cold.
“How long?”
“Unknown.”
“Who took it?”
“No fingerprints.”
I looked at Samuel.
“Has anyone threatened you?”
“No.”
“Anyone asking questions about Noah?”
Samuel hesitated.
“One woman.”
“What woman?”
“Red hair. Red scarf.”
My eyes narrowed.
The scarf.
The same symbol from the man who had been killed.
“Did she give you a name?”
“Evelyn.”
The room seemed to lose oxygen.
Marcus looked at me.
“You know her?”
“No.”
But I remembered something.
Sixteen years earlier.
The night my father died.
A girl had been standing across the street.
Red scarf.
Dark hair.
Maybe seventeen.
She had watched me kneel beside my father's body.
Then she disappeared.
I had spent years believing I imagined her.
Now the scarf had returned.
And someone was hunting Noah.
That evening, I made a decision.
“Noah comes with me.”
Samuel protested.
I raised my hand.
“Not because of my empire.”
I looked at the photograph.
“Because whoever is hunting me thinks the boy is useful.”
Samuel stared at me.
“Why would they care about him?”
“I don't know.”
“Then find out.”
I nodded.
“I will.”
Noah approached.
“Where are we going?”
“Somewhere safe.”
“Can Goliath come?”
“Yes.”
“Grandpa too?”
I looked at Samuel.
“If he'll agree.”
Samuel sighed.
“Apparently I don't have much choice.”
I almost smiled.
“You have every choice.”
“No.”
Samuel looked toward the photograph.
“I have a grandson.”
Then his eyes met mine.
“And apparently, so do you.”
I froze.
“What?”
Samuel stared at me.
“You really don't know.”
“Know what?”
He looked frightened for the first time.
“Your father didn't die because of a random attack.”
I stepped closer.
“What are you saying?”
Samuel swallowed.
“Your father knew my daughter.”
I stared at him.
“Your daughter?”
He nodded.
“She disappeared sixteen years ago.”
Marcus looked between us.
“What was her name?”
Samuel answered quietly.
“Evelyn Carter.”
The same name.
The red scarf.
May you like
The missing girl.
And suddenly the past I thought I had buried with my father began crawling back toward me.
Related Stories
