Chapter 5 - The Grandfather Who Died Twice
Margaret arrived at the police station wearing no makeup and two different gloves.
For a woman who once returned a Christmas wreath because its bow was crooked, that told me how frightened she was.
“Eric’s father did not die of a heart attack,” she said.
I stared at her.
“We buried him.”
“We buried ashes.”
“Whose?”
“I don’t know.”
His name was Thomas Dalton.
He had built Dalton Home Security before Eric took over. According to Margaret, Thomas had been involved with illegal surveillance—wealthy clients, hidden cameras, stolen financial information.
Eric discovered it.
Father and son fought.
Thomas disappeared.
Margaret helped fake his death.
“You helped your husband vanish?”
“He threatened Eric.”
“And you protected Thomas?”
“I thought I was protecting everyone.”
I laughed without humor.
“That seems to be your favorite sentence.”
She accepted it.
Thomas had returned five years ago.
The month before Noah disappeared.
He wanted Eric to restore access to old client records.
Eric refused.
Then Wade was fired.
Two angry men suddenly had the same enemy.
“My husband and my son,” I said.
Margaret nodded.
The conspiracy became clear enough to terrify me.
Wade kidnapped Noah to punish Eric.
Thomas used the kidnapping to force Eric into helping him.
Givens buried evidence.
Margaret paid money.
And I spent five years thinking a river had swallowed my family.
Christmas Eve was three days away.
Police searched every property connected to Thomas Dalton.
Nothing.
Then Noah remembered the bells.
“Not church bells.”
“What?”
“Little bells.”
He mimed pulling something.
“Sleigh bells?”
He nodded.
The Christmas tree farm kept horse-drawn sleighs for visitors.
Behind the stable was an old caretaker cottage missed in the first search because county records listed it as condemned.
Inside, investigators found Eric’s fingerprints.
And a wall covered with photographs of me.
At work.
At Lucy’s school.
At my grocery store.
Someone had been watching us.
Noah saw one photograph before I could stop him.
“You got another kid.”
His voice was flat.
My heart cracked.
“Lucy is your sister.”
“Dad isn’t her dad.”
“No.”
Three years after Eric vanished, I had briefly dated a man named Daniel. Lucy was from my first marriage, before Eric; Noah had been her little brother from the day he was born. Grief had scrambled Noah’s memories.
“Lucy was always your sister.”
He stared.
“She got bigger.”
“So did you.”
“I missed it.”
“So did she.”
Lucy reached for his hand.
“I saved your Christmas presents.”
“All five years?”
“Some are terrible.”
That made him laugh.
Then a technician emerged from the cottage carrying an evidence bag.
Inside was a red plastic fire truck.
One wheel missing.
Noah stared at it.
“My truck.”
I had told him it was in my attic.
It wasn’t.
I had forgotten Eric had put it in the car the day they vanished.
Noah looked at me.
“You lied.”
My stomach dropped.
“I forgot.”
“You said you wouldn’t lie.”
“I said I would try not to.”
“That’s the same thing adults say before they lie.”
He walked away.
I let him.
Trust was not something I could demand because DNA said I was his mother.
That night I placed my half of the airplane on the table beside him.
“What are you doing?”
“You keep it.”
“Why?”
“Because if I ask you to trust me, I should give you something I’m afraid to lose.”
He picked it up.
The two halves clicked together.
For the first time in five years, the airplane was whole.
Then he noticed something.
A tiny seam ran along the edge.
He pressed it.
The pendant opened.
Inside was a memory chip.
Eric had hidden something in Noah’s necklace.
Alvarez loaded it on an isolated computer.
One video file appeared.
Eric sat in a dark room.
“Katherine, if you are seeing this, Noah found you.”
I began crying.
Eric looked directly into the camera.
“Thomas isn’t after money anymore. He’s after the Dalton list.”
“What list?” Alvarez whispered.
Eric answered from five years in the past.
“The names of every family my father secretly recorded.”
May you like
Then he said:
“One of those families is yours, Katherine.”
