Chapter 3: The Name She Feared
Marcus couldn't breathe.
The message remained glowing on his phone.
*Don't trust Samuel.*
Samuel stared at the screen.
“Who sent that?””
Marcus shook his head.
“I don't know.””
“Show me.””
Marcus handed him the phone.
Samuel read the message twice.
Then a third time.
His expression changed from confusion to something darker.
“Your mother had enemies?””
Marcus pulled the phone back.
“My mother barely talked about her past.””
“She must have.””
“She didn't.””
Samuel stepped closer.
“What did she tell you about your father?””
Marcus laughed bitterly.
“Which version?””
Samuel froze.
Marcus rubbed his forehead.
“My mother told me he abandoned us.””
Samuel's jaw tightened.
“That wasn't true.””
“How do you know?””
“Because I never abandoned my family.””
Marcus stared at him.
“Then where were you?””
Samuel looked down.
“Working.””
“For how long?””
“Three months.””
Marcus waited.
Samuel continued.
“I was doing a repair job in another state. Your mother knew where I was.””
“Then why didn't you come home?””
“I tried.””
Marcus's expression hardened.
“That's not what she said.””
Samuel reached for the envelope.
“What did she say?””
“She said you disappeared.””
“I came home.””
Marcus shook his head.
“She said you never came back.””
“I came back to an empty house.””
The store seemed to grow quieter.
Marcus lowered his voice.
“What year?””
Samuel answered.
“1996.””
Marcus's eyes widened.
“That was the year I disappeared.””
Samuel stared at him.
“You didn't disappear.””
“I was six.””
“You were taken.””
Marcus swallowed.
“What?””
Samuel looked toward the windows.
Snow continued falling.
“I came home on December twenty-third. Your mother was gone. You were gone. The house had been emptied.””
Marcus's voice trembled.
“You think someone took us?””
“I know someone did.””
“Who?””
Samuel didn't answer.
Marcus stepped forward.
“You've had thirty years to find out.””
Samuel's eyes filled with anger.
“I spent thirty years trying.””
“Then why did you stop?””
“I didn't.””
Marcus's phone buzzed again.
Both men looked at it.
Another message.
*Ask him about the red truck.*
Marcus looked at Samuel.
Samuel's face had changed.
“What red truck?””
Marcus didn't answer.
Samuel's eyes narrowed.
“What red truck?””
Marcus slowly walked toward the toy aisle.
He stopped in front of a display filled with miniature vehicles.
There were dozens.
Fire trucks.
Police cars.
Dump trucks.
Race cars.
Then Marcus saw it.
A small red pickup.
He picked it up.
“This.””
Samuel stared at the toy.
His face went white.
“Where did you get that?””
“It was in the store.””
Samuel reached for it.
Marcus handed it over.
Samuel turned it upside down.
A tiny black marker line had been drawn beneath the truck.
Samuel whispered,
“That's impossible.””
“What?””
Samuel rubbed his thumb over the marking.
“I put that there.””
Marcus's eyes widened.
“When?””
“Christmas Eve.””
“Thirty years ago?””
Samuel nodded.
“I gave you this truck.””
Marcus's lips parted.
“My mother said I never had a truck.””
Samuel looked directly at him.
“She lied.””
The word hung between them.
Marcus stepped back.
“Why would she lie?””
Samuel's voice broke.
“I don't know.””
“Then tell me what happened that night.””
Samuel looked toward the store's Christmas tree.
The lights reflected in his wet eyes.
“You were supposed to spend Christmas Eve with me.””
Marcus waited.
Samuel continued.
“Your mother said she wanted to leave town.””
“Why?””
“She wouldn't tell me.””
“Did you fight?””
“Yes.””
Marcus's expression tightened.
“What did you say?””
Samuel swallowed.
“I told her if she took you away, I'd find you.””
“And?””
“She looked at me and said…”
Samuel stopped.
“What?””
Samuel's eyes shifted toward the front door.
“She said, ‘If you love your son, don't come looking.’”
Marcus stared.
“That doesn't make sense.””
“No.””
“Why would she say that?””
“I asked her the same question.””
“What happened next?””
Samuel looked down at the red truck.
“I gave it to you.””
“You remember?””
“I remember everything.””
His voice became softer.
“You were sitting on the floor beside the Christmas tree. You were wearing blue pajamas. You kept asking me if Santa knew where you lived.””
Marcus's eyes filled.
Samuel continued.
“I told you Santa always finds the right house.””
Marcus wiped his cheek.
“What happened after that?””
Samuel's fingers tightened around the truck.
“I kissed your forehead.””
“And?””
“I went outside.””
“Why?””
“To get something from my motorcycle.””
Samuel looked up.
“When I came back…”
His voice broke.
“You were gone.””
Marcus covered his mouth.
“No.””
Samuel nodded slowly.
“I searched every room.””
“What about your wife?””
“She was gone too.””
“Did you call the police?””
“Immediately.””
“Did they find anything?””
Samuel's eyes hardened.
“They found the red truck.””
Marcus looked at the toy in his hand.
“Where?””
“In an alley three blocks away.””
Marcus shook his head.
“I don't remember that.””
“You wouldn't.””
“Why?””
“Because someone wanted you to forget.””
Marcus stared at him.
The phone buzzed again.
Neither man touched it.
Finally, Marcus looked down.
A photograph had arrived.
It showed a younger Samuel standing beside a woman.
Renee.
Behind them was a house.
Marcus zoomed in.
His face changed.
“That house…”
Samuel looked at the screen.
“What?””
Marcus whispered,
“I've seen it.””
“Where?””
“In my dreams.””
Samuel's breathing stopped.
Marcus looked closer at the photograph.
There was a child standing near the porch.
A little boy.
Holding the red truck.
Marcus zoomed in.
Then he noticed something written on the bottom of the photograph.
A date.
*December 24, 1996.*
And beneath it, in handwriting he recognized from his mother's letters:
*Samuel must never know what happened after midnight.*
Marcus slowly raised his eyes.
Samuel was staring at him.
“What happened after midnight?”” Samuel asked.
Marcus opened his mouth.
But before he could answer, the store's front door unlocked by itself.
The bell above it rang.
A figure stepped inside.
Marcus looked toward the entrance.
Samuel turned.
And the stranger said one sentence.
“Samuel Carter?””
Samuel went completely still.
May you like
The stranger pulled a folded piece of paper from his coat.
“I think it's time you knew why your son was taken.””
