Chapter 8: The Man Who Called Himself Michael
Marcus read the message again.
*Come alone, or the third child dies tonight.*
His fingers tightened around the phone.
Across the room, Detective Bell was already shaking her head.
“No.””
Marcus looked up.
“You don't get to decide that.””
“This is exactly what they want.””
“They have somebody.””
“They're claiming they have somebody.””
Marcus stepped toward her.
“They used the exact phrase from Denise's recording.””
“I know.””
“They know about the third child.””
“I know.””
“Then someone has him.””
Bell moved closer.
“Or someone wants you to believe that.””
Marcus stared at her.
“What would you do?””
Bell didn't answer.
Marcus turned to Ruiz.
“What would you do?””
Ruiz looked at him for a long moment.
“I'd go.””
Bell snapped around.
“Ruiz.””
“But I wouldn't go alone.””
Marcus shook his head.
“They said alone.””
“They're expecting you to obey,” Ruiz said.
“That doesn't mean you have to.””
Marcus looked at Jaylen.
His son had been sitting silently in the corner, listening to everything.
He stood and walked over.
“I need you to do something for me.””
Jaylen swallowed.
“What?””
“You stay here with Detective Bell.””
“No.””
“Jaylen—”
“No.””
Marcus crouched.
“You need to stay somewhere safe.””
“You said nothing could happen if I stayed with you.””
“I know.””
“You said you had me.””
Marcus's heart broke.
“I do.””
“Then don't leave me.””
Marcus closed his eyes for a second.
When he opened them, Jaylen was crying.
“I've already lost your mom,” Jaylen whispered.
“I don't want to lose you too.””
Marcus pulled him into his arms.
“You're not losing me.””
“Promise?””
“Yes.””
He kissed the side of Jaylen's head.
Then he stood.
Bell was holding out a small tracking device.
“Put this in your pocket.””
Marcus looked at it.
“They said alone.””
“You're meeting him alone,” Bell said.
“We're still going to know where you are.””
Marcus took it.
Ruiz handed him a second device.
“Emergency transmitter.””
He looked at her.
“You expect trouble.””
“I expect the people who have been manipulating your life for years to keep manipulating it.””
Marcus put the device inside his jacket.
“Where?””
“St. Vincent,” Carter said.
“Emergency entrance. Room twelve.””
Marcus looked at the clock.
It was after midnight.
The hospital would be quieter.
That made him uneasy.
Too quiet meant fewer witnesses.
He walked toward the door.
Jaylen called after him.
“Dad.””
Marcus stopped.
He turned.
Jaylen wiped his face.
“Come back.””
Marcus nodded.
“I will.””
He left.
The drive to St. Vincent felt longer than it should have.
Rain began tapping against the windshield.
Streetlights smeared across the wet road.
Marcus kept one hand on the steering wheel and one on his phone.
No new messages.
That frightened him more than another threat would have.
When he reached the hospital, the emergency entrance was almost empty.
One security guard sat behind a glass desk.
A television played silently above him.
Marcus approached.
“Room twelve.””
The guard checked a list.
Then looked up.
“Family?””
“Brother.””
The guard nodded.
“Elevator at the end.””
Marcus walked down the corridor.
His shoes echoed.
Each step sounded too loud.
Room twelve was at the far end of a side wing.
The door stood open.
Marcus stopped outside.
“Michael?””
No response.
He pushed the door.
The room was empty.
A hospital bed.
A chair.
A sink.
No patient.
Marcus stepped inside.
“Michael?””
The television mounted on the wall suddenly turned on.
Static.
Then a face appeared.
Marcus stopped.
He knew that face.
His own face.
Older.
Thinner.
A scar across the eyebrow.
It was the man from the surveillance photographs.
The man from the park.
The man he had been calling Cameron.
The man who might actually be Michael.
The screen flickered.
Then the man spoke.
“Hello, Marcus.””
Marcus stared.
“You're Michael.””
The man smiled faintly.
“So that's what they told you?””
“Who are you?””
“I've spent twenty-three years asking the same question.””
Marcus stepped closer.
“Where is Jaylen's—”
“Your son is safe.””
Marcus's jaw tightened.
“Where?””
“Somewhere they can't reach him.””
“You expect me to believe that?””
“No.””
The man leaned toward the camera.
“I expect you to remember.””
Marcus felt a chill.
“Remember what?””
“Your first night at St. Vincent.””
“I was a baby.””
“Exactly.””
The screen changed.
An old hospital corridor appeared.
Then a photograph.
Three infant bracelets.
Marcus stared.
One read *Marcus*.
One read *Michael*.
The third had no name.
Only a number.
*314.*
His heart stopped.
“What's 314?””
The man's expression changed.
“You really don't remember.””
“No.””
“You should.””
“Tell me.””
“Three babies. One room. One number.””
Marcus stared at the screen.
The man's voice softened.
“Your mother was trying to get us out.””
“Us?””
“All three of us.””
Marcus shook his head.
“You said my mother took one of us.””
“She tried.””
“Then who stopped her?””
The man looked away from the camera.
“Your father.””
Marcus went still.
“My father?””
“He wasn't supposed to know.””
“What wasn't he supposed to know?””
“That your mother had discovered the program.””
Marcus felt anger rise.
“Stop speaking in riddles.””
“I'm not.””
The man reached out of frame.
A second image appeared.
An old man in a suit.
Marcus recognized him.
Not personally.
From one of the photographs in the basement.
It was the man standing beside his mother.
“Who is that?””
“Richard Vale.””
Marcus frowned.
“The founder of Riverside Security.””
“Yes.””
“What did he want with children?””
“Not children.””
The man's voice became cold.
“Identities.””
Marcus stared.
“Explain.””
“Certain clients needed people erased.””
“People?””
“Witnesses. Relatives. Heirs. Sometimes inconvenient family members.””
Marcus swallowed.
“They used children?””
“They used children because children were easy to reshape.””
The words made Marcus sick.
“Were you one of them?””
“Yes.””
The screen changed.
A photograph of a little boy.
Six years old.
Standing beside Richard Vale.
The boy was wearing a blue jacket.
Marcus recognized the face.
Michael.
Or Cameron.
Or whoever he was.
“Why did they rename you?””
“Because I wasn't supposed to exist.””
Marcus shook his head.
“You were my brother.””
The man smiled sadly.
“That depends on which records you believe.””
Marcus looked at the screen.
“What happened to the third child?””
Silence.
Then the man's face hardened.
“That's why you're here.””
A knock sounded behind Marcus.
He turned.
Nobody.
He looked back at the screen.
The man was gone.
The video had ended.
A phone on the hospital bed began ringing.
Marcus approached slowly.
The caller ID showed a blocked number.
He answered.
“Hello?””
A woman's voice whispered:
“Don't trust the man in the room.””
Marcus spun.
The room was empty.
“Who is this?””
“You have three minutes.””
“Three minutes for what?””
“To decide which brother dies.””
Marcus's blood froze.
“You said Jaylen was safe.””
“He is.””
“Then who dies?””
The woman breathed softly.
“One of them.””
Marcus looked at the door.
“What does that mean?””
“You have two brothers.””
“I have one.””
“No.””
The woman whispered:
“That's the lie your mother died protecting.””
The phone went dead.
Marcus stood motionless.
Then the door slammed shut behind him.
A lock clicked.
He rushed toward it.
“Open the door!””
Nothing.
He grabbed the handle.
It wouldn't move.
His phone rang again.
This time the number was visible.
*Michael Washington.*
Marcus answered.
“Where are you?””
A man's voice replied.
“Behind you.””
Marcus slowly turned.
A figure stood in the corner.
Gray jacket.
Baseball cap.
Scar across the right hand.
Marcus's heart hammered.
He recognized him.
Not from the park.
From the photographs.
The face looked like his.
But something about the eyes was different.
Tired.
Angry.
Desperate.
“Michael?””
The man lowered the cap.
“Yes.””
Marcus stared.
For the first time, he stood face-to-face with the brother everyone had spent twenty-three years hiding.
Michael looked at him.
“You shouldn't have come.””
Marcus's voice shook.
“My son.””
“I know.””
“You threatened him.””
“I did.””
“Where is he?””
Michael stepped closer.
“Safe.””
Marcus clenched his fists.
“Then why am I here?””
“Because I need something from you.””
“What?””
Michael looked at the floor.
“The key.””
Marcus froze.
“What key?””
“The red one.””
Marcus reached instinctively into his pocket.
Michael saw it.
A faint smile appeared.
“You still carry it.””
Marcus slowly pulled out Camille's key.
Michael's face changed.
“Where did you get that?””
“My wife.””
Michael's eyes hardened.
“Camille.””
“Yes.””
“She shouldn't have given you that.””
“She gave me a box.””
Michael looked away.
“What else?””
“A flash drive.””
Michael swore under his breath.
“Did you open it?””
“No.””
“Good.””
Marcus stepped closer.
“You knew Camille.””
Michael stared at him.
“I loved her.””
Marcus felt something twist in his chest.
“You killed her?””
Michael looked horrified.
“No.””
“Then who did?””
Michael shook his head.
“I don't know.””
“You're lying.””
“I'm not.””
“Then tell me why she said you were looking for me.””
Michael's expression softened.
“Because I was.””
“For what?””
“To warn you.””
“About what?””
Michael looked directly into Marcus's eyes.
“Your son.””
Marcus braced himself.
“What about him?””
Michael swallowed.
“Jaylen isn't the third child.””
Marcus froze.
“Then who is?””
Michael stepped closer.
“The third child died.””
Marcus felt the air leave his lungs.
“You said—”
“I lied.””
“Why?””
“Because they were listening.””
Marcus glanced around the room.
Michael pointed to the ceiling.
“Camera.””
Marcus looked up.
A tiny red light blinked.
Michael continued.
“They know we're talking.””
Marcus looked at him.
“Then what are you trying to tell me?””
Michael's voice dropped.
“They never wanted Jaylen.””
Marcus frowned.
“Then why follow him?””
“Because Jaylen is proof.””
“Proof of what?””
Michael reached inside his jacket.
Marcus tensed.
He pulled out a folded document.
He placed it on the bed.
Marcus opened it.
A birth certificate.
Jaylen Washington.
Mother: Camille Washington.
Father: Marcus Washington.
But underneath the original information was another page.
A laboratory report.
Marcus read it.
Then read it again.
His face went blank.
“This says…”
“Yes.””
“You're his father.””
Michael nodded.
“No.””
Marcus looked up.
“You said you loved Camille.””
“I did.””
“You said you were my brother.””
“I am.””
Marcus stared at the report.
The paternity result showed Michael Washington as Jaylen's biological father.
Not Marcus.
Not Cameron.
Michael.
His twin.
Marcus felt betrayed by every person who had ever told him the truth.
“You slept with my wife?””
Michael's eyes filled with pain.
“It wasn't like that.””
“Then what was it?””
“Camille was protecting you.””
“From me?””
“No.””
Michael stepped closer.
“From them.””
“Who?””
Michael looked toward the hidden camera.
“Riverside.””
Marcus folded the document.
“Why would they care who Jaylen's father was?””
Michael whispered:
“Because your son carries something inside his DNA that belongs to the program.””
Marcus stared.
“What?””
Before Michael could answer, the hospital lights went out.
A gunshot sounded in the corridor.
Michael grabbed Marcus and pulled him behind the bed.
Another shot.
Then footsteps.
Several people.
Marcus looked at his brother.
“Who are they?””
Michael's face went pale.
“They're here for Jaylen.””
Marcus whispered:
“Jaylen isn't here.””
Michael looked at him.
“That doesn't matter.””
He pointed toward Marcus's pocket.
“The red key opens the place where they took him.””
Marcus's blood ran cold.
“What place?””
Michael stared into the darkness.
“Room 314.””
A third gunshot echoed outside.
Then a man's voice came through the door.
“Marcus Washington.””
Michael's expression changed.
“Don't answer.””
The voice came again.
“We know you found Michael.””
Marcus looked at his brother.
Then the voice added:
“And now we know you've found the truth.””
The door handle began to turn.
Michael whispered one final sentence.
“When that door opens, don't protect me.””
Marcus stared at him.
“Protect yourself.””
The door swung inward.
And standing in the hallway was the woman Marcus least expected to see.
Detective Sarah Bell.
May you like
Holding a gun.
Pointed directly at Michael.
