Chapter 4: The Man She Feared
“Then who was?””
Samuel’s question hung in the storage room.
Marcus couldn't answer.
He stared at the photograph until the torn edge began to blur through his tears.
Samuel reached for it.
Marcus handed it over.
The older man studied the picture.
“Elena was holding you,” he whispered.
“And someone else was there.””
“Someone she was afraid of.””
Marcus shook his head.
“My mother never acted afraid.””
Samuel looked at him.
“You don't know what fear looks like when someone has thirty years to practice hiding it.””
Marcus's jaw tightened.
“Don't tell me you understand my mother.””
“I knew her before she became your mother.””
The words landed heavily.
Marcus walked past him and pushed through the storage-room door.
The Christmas music flooded back in.
He stopped beside the register.
“Jamal,” he called.
The young employee hurried over.
“Yeah, Marcus?””
“Lock the front door.””
Jamal frowned.
“We're still open.””
“I know.””
“Everything okay?””
Marcus looked at Samuel.
“No.””
Jamal immediately turned the sign around.
*CLOSED.*
One by one, the remaining customers began leaving. Every person in the store was Black, bundled in winter coats and Christmas sweaters, carrying brightly wrapped toys. Employees gathered near the register, exchanging nervous glances.
Marcus lowered his voice.
“Everyone take five.””
Jamal nodded.
When they were alone, Marcus pulled out his phone.
He called his mother again.
Voicemail.
Again.
Voicemail.
Samuel stood beside the Christmas display.
“What's her address?””
Marcus looked up.
“You think I'm just going to give it to you?””
“I think we're running out of time.””
“What does that mean?””
Samuel pointed at the photograph.
“Whoever took you didn't want me to find you.””
Marcus stared.
“And after thirty years, I suddenly show up in front of you.””
“Exactly.””
“That could be coincidence.””
Samuel's eyes hardened.
“Nothing about this is coincidence.””
Marcus looked at the watch.
Then at the photograph.
Then at the old hospital date.
December 24, 1996.
Christmas Eve.
He felt suddenly dizzy.
“There's something else.””
Samuel waited.
“My mother never told me the exact date I was born.””
Samuel went still.
“What?””
“She always celebrated it privately.””
“What date?””
“December twenty-fourth.””
Samuel closed his eyes.
A tear slipped down his cheek.
“That was your birthday.””
Marcus stared at him.
“You knew?””
“I was there.””
The older man reached into his vest again.
This time, he pulled out a small leather wallet.
He opened it.
Inside was a faded photograph.
A newborn baby.
A younger Samuel sat beside the hospital bed, one hand hovering over the infant's tiny fingers.
Marcus stared.
The baby's wrist was wrapped in a white bandage.
A small silver watch lay beside him.
Marcus's knees nearly buckled.
Samuel caught his arm.
“Easy.””
Marcus pulled away.
“You were really there.””
“Yes.””
“You held me.””
“Yes.””
“Then why did she say you left?””
Samuel looked toward the darkened store windows.
“I didn't.””
Marcus's phone buzzed.
Both men jumped.
A text message.
From an unknown number.
Marcus opened it.
*Stop looking for the hospital records.*
Below it was another message.
*You already found the wrong man.*
Marcus looked at Samuel.
His phone buzzed again.
This time, an image appeared.
It was an old photograph of Marcus as a child.
He recognized the backyard.
His mother's house.
But there was a man standing behind him.
Tall.
Black.
Wearing a dark suit.
His face was partially hidden by shadow.
Marcus zoomed in.
Around the man's wrist was a silver watch.
Not Samuel's.
A different one.
Marcus's stomach dropped.
“Who is that?””
Samuel took the phone.
He stared at the image.
His expression changed instantly.
“You know him.””
Samuel didn't answer.
“Samuel.””
The older man looked up.
“I thought he was dead.””
“Who?””
Samuel's voice became a whisper.
“Calvin Brooks.””
Marcus frowned.
“Brooks?””
Samuel nodded.
“Elena's older brother.””
Marcus stared at the photograph.
“My uncle?””
Samuel looked directly at him.
“He wasn't your uncle.””
Marcus's face went pale.
“He was my mother's brother.””
“No.””
Samuel shook his head.
“He was the man who wanted me gone.””
The store suddenly felt freezing.
Marcus looked toward the locked doors.
“Why?””
Samuel's phone began ringing.
He looked at the screen.
His face drained of color.
Marcus stepped closer.
“Who is it?””
Samuel answered.
A man's voice came through.
Calm.
Older.
Almost amused.
“Samuel.””
Samuel gripped the phone.
“Calvin?””
The caller laughed softly.
“You finally found the boy.””
Marcus's heart stopped.
Samuel said nothing.
Calvin continued.
“Now let's see if you remember what happened next.””
The call ended.
Samuel lowered the phone.
Marcus stared at him.
“What happened next?””
Samuel looked toward the photograph in Marcus's hand.
Then toward the locked front door.
“I don't remember.””
Marcus swallowed.
“What do you mean?””
Samuel's face had gone white.
“I remember leaving the hospital.””
He paused.
May you like
“But I don't remember going home.””
And somewhere outside the store, a car engine started.
