Chapter 5 - THE WRONG BROTHER
The warehouse body belonged to Elias Parker.
That was the first fact Detective Morgan could establish with certainty.
Unlike the burned victim from the SUV, Elias's fingerprints remained intact.
The second fact was worse.
Elias had been dead for approximately three days.
Which meant he had died before the phone call that shattered Natalie's life.
Someone had hidden his body while another identical Parker walked freely through Manhattan.
Natalie stared at the photographs on Morgan's temporary case board.
Ethan.
Elias.
Nathaniel.
Three identical faces.
One dead.
One missing.
One man claiming to be her husband.
“Why put Elias in a warehouse?” Natalie asked.
Morgan studied the timeline.
“Maybe whoever killed him needed everyone to believe he was alive.”
“And the burned man?”
“Still unidentified.”
Rebecca sat across the room, clutching cold coffee.
“I told Charles this would happen.”
Natalie turned.
“Your husband?”
Rebecca nodded.
“Charles believed secrets could be managed forever if enough money was involved.”
“Where is he?”
Rebecca's mouth tightened.
“Connecticut.”
Morgan immediately looked over.
“You didn't mention that.”
“You didn't ask.”
“I'm asking now.”
Rebecca hesitated.
“He lives at our old estate. He had a stroke last year.”
“Can he speak?”
“When he wants to.”
Two hours later they were driving north.
The Parker estate sat behind iron gates on twenty wooded acres.
Natalie had been there twice during her marriage.
Ethan told her his parents had sold it.
Another lie.
Inside, Charles Parker waited in a wheelchair by a fireplace.
At seventy-two, he still looked formidable.
His right side was partially paralyzed, but his eyes remained sharp.
Rebecca stood before him.
“You should have told the truth thirty years ago.”
Charles looked at Natalie.
Then at Morgan.
Finally, he rasped, “Which one died?”
Natalie's stomach tightened.
“You don't even know?”
Charles ignored her.
Morgan placed Elias's photograph on the table.
“Elias.”
For the first time, Charles's face changed.
Grief appeared.
Brief.
Genuine.
Then buried.
“And Nathaniel?” he asked.
“Missing.”
Charles closed his eyes.
Rebecca whispered, “What did you do?”
Charles looked toward the window.
“I tried to protect Ethan.”
Natalie almost laughed.
“That seems to be everyone's excuse.”
Charles's gaze moved to her.
“You don't understand Nathaniel.”
“Then explain him.”
Charles remained silent.
Morgan leaned forward.
“People are dead. The time for protecting your family's reputation is over.”
Charles's mouth twitched.
“Reputation?”
He gave a bitter smile.
“I haven't cared about reputation in years.”
“Then what?”
“Survival.”
Charles told them Nathaniel resurfaced eight years earlier.
He had built a successful cybersecurity company under another identity and amassed enough money to disappear whenever necessary.
He didn't want inheritance.
He didn't want Parker Industries.
He wanted Ethan's existence.
“At first,” Charles said, “he only copied him.”
Clothes.
Hair.
Mannerisms.
Then Nathaniel began appearing at events pretending to be Ethan.
A bartender.
A hotel employee.
A security guard.
People would later swear they had seen Ethan somewhere he had never been.
“He was testing how easily identity could be stolen,” Charles said.
“And Ethan knew?” Natalie asked.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Before he married you.”
The pain was strangely quieter this time.
Perhaps Natalie had no unbroken trust left to shatter.
Charles continued.
“Ethan paid him to disappear.”
“That worked beautifully.”
“No. It made Nathaniel angrier.”
Morgan asked, “Why didn't anyone involve police?”
Charles laughed.
“Because Nathaniel had evidence.”
“Of what?”
Charles looked toward Rebecca.
“Everything.”
Illegal surveillance contracts.
Bribes.
Money laundering.
Political favors.
Charles's company had spent decades operating between legal security and organized corruption.
Nathaniel had stolen enough records to destroy the entire family.
“So Ethan made a deal,” Charles said.
Natalie stiffened.
“What deal?”
Charles didn't answer.
“Tell me.”
“He agreed to allow Nathaniel access to his life occasionally.”
Natalie stared.
Rebecca whispered, “Charles.”
“He needs to hear this.”
“She.”
Charles looked at Natalie.
“She needs to hear it.”
Natalie's hands went numb.
“What does ‘access’ mean?”
Charles spoke without emotion.
“Business meetings. Public appearances. Places Ethan needed to be when he couldn't physically be there.”
“And my apartment?”
Charles looked away.
Natalie stood.
“My apartment?”
“He was forbidden from going near you.”
“But he did.”
Charles said nothing.
Natalie wanted to throw something.
Instead she whispered, “Forty-seven times.”
Charles's face tightened.
“He became obsessed.”
Morgan asked, “Why was the third fingerprint authorized?”
“Ethan added it so Nathaniel wouldn't bypass the security system and trigger alarms.”
Natalie stared at him in disbelief.
“So instead of keeping him out, Ethan gave him a key?”
Charles nodded.
It was perhaps the cruelest answer possible.
A vibrating sound broke the silence.
Charles looked toward the side table.
A phone.
Morgan grabbed it first.
Unknown caller.
He answered.
“Detective Morgan.”
The voice was electronically distorted.
“Put Natalie Parker on.”
Everyone froze.
Morgan shook his head.
The caller continued.
“If Natalie isn't speaking in ten seconds, Charles Parker loses the opportunity to confess something far more important.”
Natalie took the phone.
“This is Natalie.”
The distorted voice vanished.
A man's natural voice replaced it.
Ethan's voice.
Or a perfect copy.
“Hello, Natalie.”
She couldn't breathe.
“Who are you?”
The man laughed softly.
“You've asked yourself that question every night for months.”
Nathaniel.
Natalie gripped the phone.
“Did you kill Elias?”
“I didn't mean to.”
“That's not an answer.”
“No. It's the only honest answer anyone in this family has given you.”
“Where is Ethan?”
Silence.
“Nathaniel.”
Charles's face went white at the name.
“Where is my husband?”
“He's alive.”
Natalie's knees weakened.
“For now.”
Morgan began silently signaling officers outside.
Nathaniel continued.
“Ask Charles about February eighteenth.”
Charles shook his head.
Natalie looked at him.
“What happened February eighteenth?”
Nathaniel laughed.
“Ask your father-in-law why your husband woke up in a hospital with six hours missing from his memory.”
Natalie stared at Charles.
Charles whispered, “Don't.”
Nathaniel heard.
“Still protecting him, Dad?”
Charles's good hand trembled.
Natalie demanded, “What happened?”
Nathaniel's voice became almost gentle.
“February eighteenth was the first night Ethan stopped being Ethan.”
The call disconnected.
Morgan immediately ordered a trace.
Too late.
Natalie turned toward Charles.
“Tell me.”
Charles refused to look at her.
She stepped closer.
“TELL ME.”
Rebecca began crying quietly.
Finally Charles spoke.
“Ethan was drugged.”
“By Nathaniel?”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
Charles closed his eyes.
“To give Nathaniel enough time to become him.”
Natalie's heartbeat pounded in her ears.
“How long?”
Charles whispered:
“Three days.”
Natalie stepped backward.
Three days.
February eighteenth.
She remembered that week.
Ethan had been unusually affectionate.
He cooked dinner.
He took her dancing.
He spent an entire Sunday in bed beside her.
And on February twentieth, he had looked into her eyes and told her he wanted to start trying for a baby.
Natalie felt suddenly ill.
Charles looked at her.
She needed only one question answered.
“Did Ethan know what Nathaniel did during those three days?”
Charles's silence told her everything.
Natalie turned away before anyone could see her break.
Her husband had not merely hidden his brother.
He had hidden what had been done to her.
May you like
And for the first time since 3:17 that morning, Natalie stopped asking which man was Ethan.
She began asking whether the real Ethan deserved to come home at all.
