Chapter 12 - THE MAN IN THE PHOTOGRAPH
We spent the entire night studying the photograph.
Marcus enlarged it.
Enhanced it.
Ran facial recognition.
Nothing.
The man's identity didn't exist in any database.
But Victoria recognized something.
"That watch."
I looked closer.
A silver watch.
Engraved with a tiny V.
"That's Father's."
My stomach tightened.
"How could another man have it?"
Victoria shook her head.
"I don't know."
At six the next morning, Marcus called.
"We found the original photographer."
"Who?"
"A nurse."
"Where is she?"
"Retired. Lives in Connecticut."
We drove there immediately.
The woman opened the door.
She was nearly eighty.
When she saw the photograph, her face changed.
"You finally found it."
I stared at her.
"You knew about this?"
She nodded.
"Your father asked me to keep it."
"Why?"
"Because he was afraid."
"Of whom?"
She looked directly at Victoria.
"Your mother."
Victoria went pale.
The nurse invited us inside.
Then she told us something that changed everything.
On the night my father died, Eleanor had entered his room.
But she hadn't been alone.
The mysterious man had been there too.
"My father spoke to him?"
"Yes."
"What did he say?"
The nurse swallowed.
"He said, 'If anything happens to me, protect my children.'"
My chest tightened.
"Children?"
She nodded.
"Both of you."
Victoria looked down.
Then the nurse opened an old wooden box.
Inside was a cassette tape.
My father's handwriting covered the label.
FOR SEBASTIAN AND VICTORIA.
I found an old player.
Pressed play.
Static filled the room.
Then my father's voice.
"If you're hearing this, I'm probably dead."
Clara covered her mouth.
My father continued.
"Eleanor will tell you I abandoned Victoria."
A pause.
"That is a lie."
Victoria began crying.
"I was trying to protect her."
Another pause.
"Because someone inside our family wants the company."
My blood ran cold.
Then came the sentence that made me stop breathing.
"And that person is not Arthur."
The recording ended.
Nobody moved.
Marcus looked at me.
"Sir..."
My phone rang.
The caller ID displayed a blocked number.
I answered.
A man's voice spoke.
"Your father was right."
"Who are you?"
"You've spent years blaming the wrong people."
"What do you want?"
"Nothing."
"Then why call?"
He laughed softly.
"Because someone is coming for your son."
The line went dead.
I immediately called home.
No answer.
I called security.
Still nothing.
Then Clara's phone rang.
She answered.
Her face drained of color.
"Nathaniel..."
May you like
"What?"
"He isn't at school."
