Chapter 6
Thomas arrived in Chicago two days later.
Daniel almost didn’t go to the airport.
He sat in his car for twenty minutes with both hands gripping the steering wheel.
I was beside him.
Not because our marriage was repaired.
It wasn’t.
I went because nobody should meet a father they believed was dead after twenty-three years without someone nearby.
“You can leave,” Daniel said.
“I know.”
“You don’t owe me this.”
“I know.”
He looked at me.
“Then why are you here?”
“Because what your mother did to me doesn’t mean I want you destroyed.”
His eyes filled.
“Thank you.”
We walked inside.
Thomas appeared near baggage claim carrying one small suitcase.
I recognized him immediately.
Not from photographs.
From Daniel.
Same eyes.
Same jaw.
Same way of standing with one shoulder slightly lower.
Daniel stopped walking.
Thomas stopped too.
For several seconds, father and son simply stared.
Then Thomas said, “Danny.”
Daniel broke.
He crossed the distance in three steps.
Thomas wrapped his arms around him.
I turned away.
Some reunions are too private even in public places.
When I looked back, both men were crying.
Thomas touched Daniel’s face.
“You look like my father.”
Daniel laughed through tears.
“You look old.”
Thomas laughed too.
“So do you.”
It was the first genuine laugh I had heard from Daniel in days.
We drove to a quiet hotel.
Thomas had brought boxes.
Letters.
Court documents.
Copies of emails.
Birthday cards that had never reached Daniel.
He opened the first box.
“I wrote every month for five years.”
Daniel picked up a stack.
His name was written across every envelope.
Daniel Walker.
Our old town address.
Return to sender.
Moved.
No forwarding address.
Daniel stared.
“We never moved.”
“I know that now.”
Thomas opened another file.
“Your mother obtained a protective order after our separation.”
Daniel’s expression tightened.
“Why?”
“She accused me of threatening her.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“You hit her?”
“Never.”
“Then why would a judge believe her?”
Thomas sighed.
“Because she had photographs of bruises.”
Daniel became still.
“Bruises?”
“Yes.”
“Where did they come from?”
“I never knew.”
I watched Thomas carefully.
He spoke without anger.
That made his story more believable, but I reminded myself that calm people could lie too.
We needed evidence.
Thomas seemed to understand.
He pushed the court documents toward Daniel.
“Don’t believe me because I’m your father.”
Daniel looked up.
“Read.”
So we did.
The allegations were serious.
Threats.
Harassment.
Physical intimidation.
Thomas had denied everything.
The court issued temporary restrictions.
Then Linda moved Daniel without notifying Thomas properly.
Custody litigation followed.
Thomas spent years fighting.
Then something happened.
“What made you stop?” Daniel asked.
Thomas became quiet.
“You.”
Daniel frowned.
“What?”
“Your mother arranged a supervised call.”
“When?”
“You were fifteen.”
Daniel shook his head.
“I don’t remember.”
“I do.”
Thomas’s voice softened.
“You told me you hated me.”
Daniel stared.
“You said I hurt your mother. You said you never wanted to see me again.”
Daniel’s face crumpled.
“I don’t remember that.”
“I believed you meant it.”
“I was fifteen.”
“I know.”
“Why did you stop trying because of something a fifteen-year-old said?”
Thomas closed his eyes.
“That is the greatest mistake of my life.”
The room became silent.
“I should have kept fighting.”
Daniel looked down at the letters.
“What happened after that?”
“I wrote occasionally. Your mother returned most letters.”
“Why didn’t you come to my school?”
“The protective order prohibited contact.”
“For twenty years?”
“No. But by the time it expired, you were eighteen.”
“You could have come then.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you?”
Thomas met his eyes.
“Cowardice.”
Daniel looked stunned.
Thomas continued.
“I convinced myself you hated me. I told myself showing up would hurt you.”
“So you disappeared.”
“Yes.”
Daniel stood.
His chair scraped the floor.
“You let me think you were dead.”
“I didn’t know she told you I died.”
“How could you not know?”
“I didn’t know where you were.”
“You found me eventually.”
“Years later.”
“And you wrote letters.”
“Yes.”
“But never came.”
“No.”
Daniel walked toward the window.
I watched him struggle.
Thomas didn’t defend himself.
That mattered.
He simply sat there and accepted the anger.
Finally Daniel turned.
“My mother took my father away.”
Thomas shook his head.
“Your mother did terrible things.”
Daniel frowned.
“But?”
“But I let fear keep me away after I had other choices.”
He looked directly at his son.
“Don’t make me innocent just because she was wrong.”
The sentence stayed with me.
Maybe because it applied to Daniel too.
Linda had manipulated him.
But Daniel still had choices.
After an hour, Thomas asked about Sophie.
Daniel looked at me.
I answered.
“She’s safe.”
“Does Linda have access to her?”
“No.”
Thomas exhaled.
“Good.”
That reaction caught my attention.
“Why?”
He looked at me.
“Linda likes people who depend on her.”
“What does that mean?”
“When Daniel was young, she controlled everything.”
Daniel frowned.
“She was my mother.”
“She monitored your friendships.”
“I was a kid.”
“She convinced you your best friend stole from you.”
Daniel looked stunned.
“Jason?”
Thomas nodded.
“He didn’t steal your Game Boy.”
Daniel stared.
“How do you know?”
“I found it in Linda’s dresser.”
“What?”
“She hid it.”
Daniel sat.
I felt cold.
Thomas continued.
“When you got upset, she comforted you. Then she told you Jason couldn’t be trusted.”
Daniel whispered, “I never talked to him again.”
Thomas nodded sadly.
“That pattern happened repeatedly.”
I thought about myself.
Coworkers Linda disliked.
My sister.
Neighbors.
Anyone Daniel became close to eventually had some flaw Linda “discovered.”
Daniel looked at me.
He saw the same realization.
“She isolated me.”
Thomas nodded.
“I believe so.”
“And now Sophie.”
“Yes.”
I asked, “Why?”
Thomas looked toward the window.
“Because Linda doesn’t just want love.”
He turned back.
“She wants loyalty that excludes everyone else.”
My skin prickled.
Daniel asked, “What was the thing you should have told me years ago?”
Thomas’s expression changed.
He opened another folder.
“This.”
Inside was an old police report.
I scanned it.
Fraud investigation.
Linda Walker.
Her name appeared as a suspect.
“What is this?”
Thomas answered.
“Before we divorced, money disappeared from my company.”
Daniel stared at him.
“You had a company?”
“A construction business.”
“How much?”
“Nearly eighty thousand dollars.”
“In what year?”
“2001.”
That would be more today.
“Was Mom charged?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“The evidence pointed toward my bookkeeper.”
“What happened?”
“He disappeared.”
I frowned.
“Disappeared?”
“He left town.”
“Who was he?”
Thomas hesitated.
“Eric Mason’s father.”
Daniel went completely still.
“What?”
“Charles Mason.”
I felt my stomach drop.
Eric.
Daniel’s current business partner.
The man allegedly stealing money with Linda.
Their fathers had known each other.
Daniel whispered, “Eric told me our families met through school.”
Thomas shook his head.
“No.”
“Did Eric know?”
“I don’t know.”
Daniel stood again.
“He had to.”
“Not necessarily.”
“His father worked for you?”
“Yes.”
“And Mom knew him?”
“Yes.”
“How well?”
Thomas looked uncomfortable.
That was enough.
Daniel stared.
“How well?”
Thomas answered quietly.
“I suspected they were having an affair.”
The silence after that felt physical.
Daniel turned toward the wall.
I almost couldn’t process another revelation.
Thomas continued.
“I never proved it.”
“Did you confront her?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
“She denied it.”
“And Charles?”
“Denied it.”
“What happened after the money disappeared?”
“Charles left Illinois.”
“Where?”
“Arizona.”
“Is he alive?”
Thomas nodded.
“As far as I know.”
Daniel picked up his phone.
“I’m calling Eric.”
“No,” I said.
He looked at me.
“Still?”
“Especially now.”
Thomas agreed.
“If Eric is involved, don’t warn him.”
Daniel paced.
“So what do I do?”
“Let police handle it.”
“I’m tired of letting everyone else know things about my life before I do.”
I understood that.
But anger was making him reckless.
“Daniel.”
He looked at me.
“Your mother expects you to react emotionally.”
His expression shifted.
“Don’t give her what she expects.”
That reached him.
He sat.
An hour later, Detective Alvarez called.
They had located Linda’s car near the Wisconsin cabin.
But Linda wasn’t there.
Inside the cabin, police found shredded documents.
A laptop with its hard drive removed.
And photographs.
Hundreds.
Daniel as a child.
Daniel as an adult.
Me.
Sophie.
Our house.
Our friends.
Our schedules.
It was an archive of our lives.
Then Alvarez said they found something else.
A passport.
Not Linda’s.
A child’s passport.
Daniel put the phone on speaker.
“Whose?”
Alvarez answered.
“Sophie’s.”
I stood instantly.
“She doesn’t have a passport.”
“You applied for one?”
“No.”
Daniel said the same.
Alvarez became quiet.
Then she said, “The photograph is Sophie.”
My hands started shaking.
“But the name isn’t.”
Daniel’s voice hardened.
“What name?”
Alvarez read it.
“Sarah Louise Walker.”
I stared at Daniel.
“That isn’t her name.”
“We know.”
“How could Linda get a fake passport?”
“We’re verifying whether it’s genuine or counterfeit.”
My heart hammered.
“Why would she need one?”
Nobody answered.
Because everyone understood the terrifying possibility.
She might have planned to take Sophie.
Not across town.
Not across Illinois.
Out of the country.
Daniel whispered, “Where is my mother?”
Alvarez answered carefully.
“We’re trying to find her.”
Then my phone beeped.
A text.
Unknown number.
I opened it.
There was a photograph.
Sophie walking into school that morning.
Taken from across the street.
Under it, one sentence.
May you like
You can keep Daniel.
I only want what belongs to me.
