Chapter 5: Daniel
For several seconds, nobody moved.
The Christmas lights blinked across the store windows.
Red.
Gold.
Red.
Gold.
Marcus looked from the driver's license to Samuel.
“Your brother?””
Samuel nodded slowly.
“Daniel.””
Leon folded his arms.
“Where is he?””
Samuel's eyes remained fixed on the photograph.
“I don't know.””
“You haven't seen him?””
“Not since 1996.””
Marcus's voice was barely audible.
“So your brother knew my mother.””
Samuel looked at him.
“He knew everyone.””
“That doesn't answer my question.””
Samuel walked toward the photograph.
“Daniel and I were close when we were young.””
“Were?””
Samuel's expression hardened.
“He changed.””
“How?””
“He became obsessed with money.””
Leon interrupted.
“My father said Daniel was drowning in debt.””
Samuel looked at him sharply.
“How much?””
“Enough to lose everything.””
Marcus stared at the license.
“So he sold me?””
“No.””
Samuel's voice came instantly.
“He wouldn't.””
Leon raised an eyebrow.
“You just said he changed.””
Samuel didn't answer.
Marcus stepped closer.
“Why would my mother give him papers?””
“I don't know.””
“Why would she trust him?””
“I don't know.””
“Why would he pretend to be you?””
Samuel slammed his fist against the counter.
“Because he wanted something!””
The sudden sound made everyone in the store turn.
Darnell approached cautiously.
“Mr. Samuel?””
Samuel took a breath.
“Stay with the employees. Lock the front door.””
Darnell looked toward Marcus.
Marcus nodded.
“Do it.””
The door locked.
Samuel turned back toward Leon.
“What did your father say happened after the boy was taken?””
Leon pulled up a chair.
“He followed them.””
Samuel sat opposite him.
Marcus remained standing.
“Where?””
“A house outside the city.””
Samuel's eyes sharpened.
“What house?””
Leon reached into his pocket and removed another photograph.
He placed it on the counter.
Samuel stared.
His face drained of color.
Marcus leaned over his shoulder.
It was the same house from the photograph they'd received on the phone.
A white-painted two-story house.
A wide front porch.
A tall oak tree beside the driveway.
Marcus whispered,
“I know that place.””
Samuel looked at him.
“How?””
“I've seen it in my dreams.””
Leon nodded.
“My father said the boy was kept there for three days.””
Marcus's hand covered his mouth.
“Three days?””
“Yes.””
“Then what happened?””
“My father lost sight of the vehicles.””
“Lost sight?””
“He was afraid.””
Samuel's eyes burned.
“You let him go?””
Leon flinched.
“He was an old man with a family.””
Samuel leaned closer.
“My son was six.””
“I know.””
“You knew a child was being taken.””
“I wasn't there.””
“Your father was.””
“And he spent the rest of his life regretting it.””
Samuel's voice dropped.
“Regret doesn't bring my boy home.””
Marcus stepped between them.
“Enough.””
Both men looked at him.
Marcus pointed to the photograph.
“If I was kept there for three days, someone must have records.””
Leon nodded.
“That's why I came.””
He pulled out a thin folder.
“My father spent years collecting evidence.””
Marcus opened it.
Inside were copies of bank statements, photographs, handwritten notes, and old newspaper clippings.
Samuel scanned them.
Then Marcus saw something.
A bank receipt.
December 27, 1996.
A cash withdrawal.
*$75,000.*
The account belonged to Daniel Carter.
Marcus looked at Samuel.
“That's him.””
Samuel took the paper.
His hand shook.
“He didn't have seventy-five thousand dollars.””
Leon nodded.
“Exactly.””
Marcus flipped through the documents.
Another page.
A property transfer.
Another.
A hospital record.
Then he stopped.
“What is this?””
Samuel looked over.
It was a birth certificate.
Marcus stared at the name.
*Marcus Carter.*
Mother: Renee Carter.
Father: Samuel Carter.
Date of birth: June 14, 1990.
Marcus's eyes filled with tears.
“I've never seen this.””
Samuel touched the paper.
“It was yours.””
Marcus swallowed.
“Then why did my mother tell me my birth certificate was destroyed?””
Samuel looked at Leon.
“Daniel.””
Leon nodded.
“That's what my father believed.””
Marcus suddenly remembered something.
“My mother had a box.””
Samuel looked up.
“What box?””
“A metal box.””
“Where?””
“At home.””
“What was inside?””
Marcus shook his head.
“I don't know. She told me never to open it.””
Samuel stood.
“Where is it?””
“She gave it to me before she died.””
“Do you still have it?””
Marcus nodded.
“At home.””
Leon stood too.
“We need to get it.””
Marcus reached for his coat.
Then his phone buzzed.
A new message.
No number.
Just a photograph.
Marcus opened it.
His stomach dropped.
It showed his store.
Taken from across the street.
The photograph was timestamped *two minutes ago*.
Someone was watching them.
Samuel saw the screen.
“Turn off the lights.””
Marcus froze.
“What?””
“Now.””
Darnell rushed over.
“What's happening?””
Samuel pointed toward the front windows.
“Someone is outside.””
Everyone turned.
At first, there was nothing but snow.
Then a dark figure moved past the window.
Marcus ran to the glass.
“Hey!””
Samuel grabbed his shoulder.
“Don't.””
The figure stopped.
Slowly turned.
And even through the snow-covered glass, Marcus could see the face.
An older Black man.
Gray hair.
Long coat.
A silver ring on his right hand.
Samuel whispered one word.
“Daniel.””
The man smiled.
Then he lifted one hand.
And held up a photograph.
Marcus squinted.
It was a photograph of a little boy.
The red truck was in his hands.
Daniel turned the photograph around.
On the back, visible through the glass, were four words.
*He was never your son.*
Then Daniel disappeared into the snow.
Marcus turned toward Samuel.
“What does that mean?””
Samuel's face had gone completely pale.
“I don't know.””
But Leon was staring at the photograph.
He whispered,
“My father warned me about that sentence.””
Samuel looked at him.
“What?””
Leon swallowed.
“He said Daniel used to say it whenever he wanted someone to believe the truth was something else.””
Marcus's phone buzzed again.
This time, the message contained only an address.
May you like
And beneath it:
*Come alone if you want to know who Marcus really is.*
