Chapter 2 - The Man Who Wasn't Supposed to Be There
Richard recovered quickly.
That was the first thing I noticed.
His face had gone pale, but within seconds, he straightened his expensive coat, adjusted his watch, and walked toward us with the practiced confidence of a man accustomed to controlling every room he entered.
“Ethan,” he said. “I was looking for you.”
I didn't move.
“Were you?”
His eyes flicked toward Samuel.
“Who's this?”
“Someone who knows where my wife was attacked.”
Richard's expression hardened.
“Stay away from this man. He's a drifter. He hangs around our neighborhood stealing things.”
Samuel lowered his eyes but didn't retreat.
“Funny,” he said quietly. “You didn't think I was a thief when you paid me to keep quiet.”
Richard froze.
I turned toward him.
“What did he just say?”
“Nothing. He's confused.”
Samuel reached into his backpack again.
This time, he produced a folded photograph.
He handed it to me.
The picture showed our house from across the street. A black SUV was parked outside. Its rear passenger door stood open.
A timestamp appeared in the corner.
11:48 p.m.
The date was three nights earlier.
I recognized the vehicle immediately.
Richard's black Cadillac.
I looked at him.
“Why was your car at my house?”
“I visit my daughter.”
“At midnight?”
“She was having difficulties. I was helping her.”
“Then why did you tell the police she was attacked in an alley?”
Richard's jaw tightened.
“Because that's what I was told.”
“By whom?”
He didn't answer.
Samuel pointed to the photograph.
“Look at the driver's side.”
I leaned closer.
A man stood beside the vehicle, his face partially visible beneath a streetlight.
I recognized him.
Daniel Reeves.
Richard's longtime business partner.
I'd met him at Thanksgiving dinners and family celebrations. He had once toasted Sophia and me at our wedding, calling us the perfect couple.
“Why was Daniel there?”
Richard looked toward the ICU doors.
“Ethan, you're exhausted. You're upset. This isn't the time.”
I stepped closer.
“Then tell me when the time is.”
He lowered his voice.
“Your wife is alive. That's what matters.”
“Who did this to her?”
“Please.”
“Who?”
Before he could answer, a nurse approached.
“Mr. Walker?”
I turned.
“Your wife is showing signs of increased brain activity. We need to monitor her closely.”
I hurried toward Sophia's room.
Richard tried to follow.
The nurse stopped him.
“Only one visitor.”
“I'm her father.”
“And he's her husband.”
I entered alone.
Sophia looked impossibly small beneath the hospital blankets. Her face was swollen, and one arm rested inside a brace.
I sat beside her.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
My voice broke.
“I'm home.”
I took her hand carefully.
“I brought you flowers. They're probably dying in the car, but I'll get you fresh ones.”
Her fingers didn't move.
I leaned forward.
“I'm going to find out who did this.”
For a moment, there was nothing.
Then her little finger twitched.
I stopped breathing.
“Sophia?”
Her eyelids fluttered.
A faint sound escaped her throat.
I leaned closer.
“I'm here.”
Her lips moved.
I couldn't understand the first attempt.
Then she whispered a name.
“Daniel.”
My blood turned cold.
“Daniel Reeves?”
Her fingers tightened around mine.
“Yes.”
I reached for the nurse's call button.
But before I could press it, Sophia began shaking her head.
“No... no...”
“It's okay. You're safe.”
She struggled to breathe.
Then she whispered three more words.
“Not... my father.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
Her eyes opened slightly.
For the first time in seven months, I looked directly into my wife's eyes.
And I saw something I'd never seen there before.
Fear.
Not fear of the men who had beaten her.
Fear of someone she knew.
Someone she trusted.
Her lips moved again.
“Ethan... the baby...”
I went completely still.
The nurse rushed into the room as Sophia's monitor began beeping rapidly.
“Sir, step back!”
I stumbled away.
The medical team surrounded her bed.
One doctor ordered medication while another adjusted her oxygen.
I stood against the wall, unable to understand what I'd just heard.
The baby.
What baby?
Sophia and I had never discussed having children while I was deployed. We'd agreed to wait until I returned.
Or at least, I thought we had.
Twenty minutes later, the doctor came out.
“Your wife is stable.”
I swallowed.
“You said something about her condition earlier. What was it?”
He looked at the chart.
“Mr. Walker, there's something we haven't discussed.”
“What?”
He hesitated.
“Your wife was approximately eleven weeks pregnant when she was admitted.”
The hallway tilted.
I gripped the wall.
Eleven weeks.
My wife had been carrying our child while I was overseas.
And someone had nearly killed them both.
Then the doctor added something that made my heart stop.
“There's another concern. The initial records indicate someone requested that the pregnancy information be withheld from you.”
“Who?”
The doctor glanced down at the paperwork.
“Your father-in-law.”
I looked toward the elevator.
Richard was gone.
And his car was no longer in the hospital parking lot.
But Samuel was still standing near the nurses' station.
He approached slowly.
“There's something else,” he said.
“What?”
He looked at Sophia's closed door.
“The night she was attacked, she managed to crawl outside. Before she lost consciousness, she gave me something.”
He opened his backpack and removed a small, bloodstained envelope.
Written across the front in Sophia's handwriting were four words.
IF ETHAN COMES HOME.
Inside was a photograph of a little boy.
On the back, Sophia had written a date.
A date from six years earlier.
May you like
And beneath it, one sentence:
Ask Richard what happened to your brother.
