Chapter 4: The Man at the Door
Samuel stared at the stranger.
The man was Black, perhaps in his early fifties, wearing a charcoal winter coat dusted with snow. His breathing was heavy, as though he'd hurried through the parking lot.
Marcus stepped from behind the counter.
“Who are you?””
The man looked at him.
“Marcus?””
Marcus stiffened.
“How do you know my name?””
The stranger's eyes moved to Samuel.
“I've been trying to find both of you for years.””
Samuel stepped forward.
“Your name.””
The man hesitated.
“Leon.””
“Leon what?””
“Leon Brooks.””
Samuel's expression didn't change.
“I don't know you.””
Leon pulled the folded paper from his coat.
“You knew my father.””
Samuel frowned.
“Who was your father?””
Leon unfolded the paper.
“Thomas Brooks.””
Samuel's eyes narrowed.
Then something flickered across his face.
“Thomas…”
Marcus watched him carefully.
“You know him?””
Samuel slowly nodded.
“He worked at the freight yard.””
Leon gave a humorless laugh.
“He did more than that.””
He placed the paper on the counter.
Marcus reached for it.
Samuel stopped him.
“Wait.””
Leon looked directly at Samuel.
“My father kept this hidden until the day he died.””
Samuel's hand hovered over the paper.
“Why bring it to me now?””
“Because my father left instructions.””
“What instructions?””
Leon swallowed.
“He told me that if I ever found Samuel Carter, I was supposed to give him this.””
Samuel finally picked up the paper.
His fingers trembled as he unfolded it.
There were only a few lines.
*I was there that night.*
Samuel stopped breathing.
Marcus leaned closer.
Leon continued.
“My father was working security at the freight yard on December twenty-fourth, 1996.””
Samuel looked up.
“The night my son disappeared.””
Leon nodded.
“He saw your wife.””
Samuel's jaw tightened.
“Renee?””
“Yes.””
“With my son?””
Leon hesitated.
“With your son.””
Marcus stepped backward.
“Then he knew where I was?””
Leon looked at him.
“Yes.””
Marcus's voice cracked.
“Why didn't he tell anyone?””
“Because someone paid him.””
Samuel slammed his palm against the counter.
“Who?””
Leon shook his head.
“I don't know.””
“You expect me to believe that?””
“I don't expect anything from you.””
Leon reached into his coat again.
He pulled out a small cassette tape.
Marcus stared.
“What is that?””
“My father recorded everything.””
Samuel looked at the tape.
“Where's the player?””
Marcus hurried into the back room and returned with an old portable cassette player he kept for the store's vintage display.
He inserted the tape.
Nothing happened.
Marcus pressed play again.
Static filled the store.
Then a man's voice emerged.
Older.
Breathing hard.
*“December twenty-fourth. Eleven forty-three p.m.””*
Samuel closed his eyes.
Thomas Brooks continued.
*“The woman came alone first.””*
Marcus looked at Samuel.
The voice continued.
*“She was carrying a suitcase.””*
Static.
Then:
*“The boy was in the car.””*
Samuel's eyes opened.
“No…”
Thomas's recorded voice became quieter.
*“She told the man she had done what he asked.””*
Leon looked down.
Marcus whispered,
“What man?””
The recording crackled.
A second voice appeared.
Muffled.
Male.
Angry.
*“Did you bring the papers?””*
Renee answered.
*“Yes.””*
Samuel's face collapsed.
Marcus grabbed the edge of the counter.
“What papers?””
No answer came.
The recording jumped.
Thomas's voice returned.
*“The woman handed over a folder.””*
Then another burst of static.
*“She asked to see the boy one last time.””*
Marcus covered his mouth.
Samuel's hands were shaking violently.
“Play it.””
Marcus pressed the button.
The tape continued.
*“The man refused.””*
Renee's voice suddenly became clear.
*“Please. He's my son.””*
Marcus's eyes filled with tears.
Samuel whispered,
“Renee…”
The tape clicked.
Then Thomas said:
*“The boy started crying.””*
A child's voice could be heard faintly in the background.
“Mommy?””
Marcus froze.
Samuel grabbed the cassette player.
“My God.””
The child's voice came again.
“Mommy, where's Dad?””
Marcus began crying silently.
Samuel stared at him.
Then the recording continued.
Renee was sobbing.
*“Your father loves you.””*
The male voice snapped:
*“Your father is never coming back.””*
Samuel's face turned red.
He grabbed the counter.
Leon caught his arm.
“Listen.””
Samuel looked at him.
“I'm listening.””
The recording became almost impossible to hear.
Thomas whispered:
*“Then something happened.””*
Static.
*“The boy was moved to another vehicle.””*
Marcus looked at Leon.
“Where?””
Leon shook his head.
“My father never said.””
The tape clicked again.
Then Thomas spoke one final sentence.
*“The man who took the boy was wearing the same silver ring I saw on Samuel Carter's hand.””*
Silence.
Marcus slowly turned toward Samuel.
Samuel looked down at his hands.
He wasn't wearing a ring.
“I never owned a silver ring.””
Leon nodded.
“I know.””
Marcus frowned.
“Then why would your father's recording say that?””
Leon looked at him.
“Because he was talking about the man who claimed to be your father.””
Samuel's blood ran cold.
“What?””
Leon stepped closer.
“My father said the man told Renee he was Samuel Carter.””
Marcus's mouth fell open.
Samuel backed away.
Someone had taken his name.
Someone had taken his son.
Someone had convinced his wife that he was never coming home.
And someone had spent thirty years making sure the truth stayed buried.
Marcus looked at the photograph on the counter.
Then at Samuel.
“If that man wasn't you…”
Samuel finished the sentence.
“Then who was he?””
Leon reached into his coat one last time.
This time, he pulled out a faded driver's license.
He placed it face-up beneath the store lights.
Marcus stared at the photograph.
Samuel stared too.
The face looked strangely familiar.
Leon whispered,
“This is the man my father saw.””
Marcus slowly read the name.
His eyes widened.
Because beneath the photograph were two words:
*Daniel Carter.*
May you like
Samuel took a step backward.
“That's my brother.””
