Chapter 7: The Man Wearing a Dead Man's Face
The ambulance arrived seventeen minutes after the shooting.
By then, Daniel had lost enough blood to turn Wade's hands red.
"Keep your eyes open," Wade ordered, pressing his jacket against his son's shoulder.
Daniel managed a weak smile.
"Thirty years, Dad. And you're still giving orders.""
"Somebody has to. You're clearly not making good decisions.""
Emily knelt beside them.
"Daniel, stop talking. Save your strength.""
Daniel looked at her.
"You're still bossy.""
"And you're still an idiot.""
Despite everything, he laughed.
Martha stood nearby, holding Frank's phone.
She had not moved since the call ended.
Wade noticed her expression.
"Martha?""
She looked up.
"Frank said something about our kitchen.""
"What about it?""
"He left something beneath the floorboard. Under the kitchen table.""
Wade nodded.
"We'll find it.""
But Martha wasn't looking at him.
She was staring at the identification card Duke had recovered.
Jonathan Vale.
The face on the card was younger than the man who had entered the storage unit.
Yet the name was unmistakable.
"How can a dead man walk into a room?"" Emily asked.
Wade examined the card again.
"Maybe he isn't dead.""
Duke shook his head.
"I knew Collins. I saw his body at the funeral home in 2006. I helped carry his coffin.""
Wade looked at him.
"Are you sure?""
Duke nodded.
"Positive.""
"Then somebody is using his identity.""
The paramedics finally loaded Daniel onto a stretcher.
Wade climbed into the ambulance.
Emily followed.
Before the doors closed, Martha caught Wade's arm.
"Don't let them take him from us again.""
Wade looked at his son.
"Not this time.""
The ambulance pulled away.
Duke remained with Martha.
He looked toward the storage unit, where the evidence case had been left behind.
"Mrs. Bell, there's something you should know.""
Martha turned.
"What?""
"Before Collins arrived, I saw another vehicle parked behind the building.""
"What kind?""
"An old white van. No plates.""
"And?""
"There was someone inside.""
Martha's stomach tightened.
"Who?""
Duke hesitated.
"A woman.""
"Did you see her face?""
"Only briefly.""
He pulled out his phone and showed Martha a photograph taken through the windshield.
The image was blurry.
But the woman had silver hair.
She was wearing a blue scarf.
Martha's fingers began to tremble.
"No.""
Duke frowned.
"Do you know her?""
Martha stared at the screen.
"That's my sister.""
Her sister, Eleanor, had been dead for eleven years.
At least, that was what the family had been told.
Three hours later, Martha stood in the kitchen of her old family home.
The house smelled of lemon polish, old wood, and the coffee she had made that morning.
Everything looked the same.
The wooden cabinets.
The faded curtains.
The family photographs.
The kitchen table Frank had built thirty-five years earlier.
She ran her fingers across its surface.
"Where did you hide it, sweetheart?""
Wade stood near the back door.
Emily was at the hospital with Daniel, and Duke had gone to report the shooting to a federal contact he trusted.
Wade had insisted on accompanying Martha.
He didn't trust anybody else.
"Frank said beneath the table," he reminded her.
Martha crouched.
She examined the floorboards around the table legs.
One board looked slightly different.
She pressed against it.
Nothing.
Then she remembered something.
Frank had always complained about the table being uneven.
He had placed a small wooden wedge beneath the left rear leg.
Martha moved the table.
The wedge fell onto the floor.
Beneath it was a narrow brass screw.
Wade crouched beside her.
"That's not ordinary hardware.""
"No," Martha whispered.
"Frank made it himself.""
She twisted the screw.
A small section of flooring released with a faint click.
Inside was a flat metal box.
Martha lifted it out.
It was heavier than she expected.
There was a combination lock on the front.
Four numbers.
Wade examined it.
"Do you know the code?""
Martha shook her head.
Then she remembered.
Frank's birthday was February 14.
Their wedding anniversary was June 9.
But neither worked.
She looked at the metal box again.
A tiny engraving was visible beside the lock.
*M + F = 1*
Martha smiled sadly.
"One.""
She turned the dial.
0-6-0-9.
Click.
The box opened.
Inside were three envelopes, a small silver key, and a photograph.
The photograph showed Frank standing with a woman.
Martha recognized her immediately.
Eleanor.
Her younger sister.
Alive.
Standing beside Frank outside a motel.
The date on the back was 2004.
Wade looked over her shoulder.
"Your sister?""
Martha nodded slowly.
"She was supposed to have died in a house fire in 2015.""
Wade examined the photograph.
"Then why was she with Frank?""
Martha opened the first envelope.
Inside was a handwritten letter.
My darling Martha,
If you found this, it means somebody finally came looking in the right place.
There are things I couldn't explain when I left. I know what my disappearance did to you. I know what it did to Emily. I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it right.
But Eleanor knows the truth. She has been protecting something more important than the records.
Martha stopped reading.
Her eyes moved to the final paragraph.
She has been protecting our grandson.
Martha's breath caught.
She had one grandson.
Emily's son, Lucas.
He was twenty-four years old.
A university student who had barely known his grandfather.
Wade looked at her.
"What does that mean?""
Martha shook her head.
"I don't know.""
Then her phone rang.
The number was unknown.
She answered.
A woman's voice spoke softly.
"Martha?""
Martha froze.
"Eleanor?""
"Hello, little sister.""
Martha nearly dropped the phone.
"You're alive.""
A quiet sigh.
"Yes.""
"Where are you?""
"Somewhere you shouldn't come.""
Martha's voice broke.
"You let me bury you.""
"I know.""
"You let me mourn you for eleven years!""
"I had no choice.""
Martha pressed a hand against the kitchen counter.
"What happened to Frank?""
Eleanor went silent.
Then she said:
"He's alive, Martha.""
Martha closed her eyes.
"Where?""
"He's coming home.""
"Why hasn't he called me?""
"Because somebody has been watching your house.""
Martha looked toward the window.
Across the street, a black sedan was parked beside a mailbox.
Its headlights were off.
Eleanor continued.
"Listen carefully. You must destroy the papers in that box.""
Martha looked at the documents.
"Why?""
"Because the man who signed Frank's death certificate knows you've found them.""
Martha's voice dropped.
"Who is he?""
Eleanor whispered:
"Your grandson.""
May you like
The call ended.
And the black sedan across the street suddenly turned on its headlights.
