Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN WHO REPORTED THEM
Noah stepped backward.
Eli clutched his brother’s shirt.
Margaret moved in front of them again.
“Reported by whom?”
The older officer looked at her.
“Margaret Hayes?”
“Yes.”
“We need you to step away from the children.”
“They approached me inside the restaurant.”
“We’re not accusing you of anything.”
“Then answer the question.”
The younger officer glanced at the photograph.
“The reporting party is listed as their legal guardian.”
“Name?”
The officer hesitated.
“Rebecca Mercer.”
Margaret felt the key bite into her palm.
Rebecca.
Daniel’s younger sister.
The woman who had sat beside Margaret during months of searching.
The woman who had held her hand at the memorial service.
The woman who had cried while two empty coffins were lowered into the ground.
Noah whispered, “Aunt Rebecca.”
Margaret turned.
“You know her?”
“She lives with us.”
“Where?”
Noah looked at the officers and said nothing.
The older officer approached slowly.
“Noah, Eli, your aunt says you were taken from your home.”
“No one took us,” Noah said.
“She says a man forced you into a vehicle.”
“He didn’t.”
“Then why did you leave?”
Noah’s mouth tightened.
Eli answered before he could stop him.
“Rebecca locked Dad in the basement.”
The alley went silent.
The older officer crouched to Eli’s height.
“Can you tell me where the house is?”
Noah pulled him back.
“He gets confused.”
“I’m not confused,” Eli said.
Noah’s eyes flashed.
“Stop talking.”
Margaret recognized the conflict in him.
Protect the secret.
Protect the brother.
Protect the father.
Even when all three protections pulled in opposite directions.
The younger officer reached for his radio.
Thomas stepped behind Margaret.
“If they take the boys, Rebecca will move them before sunrise.”
The officer heard him.
“Sir, identify yourself.”
Thomas raised both hands.
“Thomas Vale. Licensed investigator.”
“Identification.”
Thomas reached inside his coat slowly.
As the officers examined his credentials, Margaret knelt in front of Noah.
“Look at me.”
He refused.
“Noah.”
His eyes finally lifted.
“I knew Rebecca years ago,” Margaret said. “She helped me search for my sons.”
“You don’t have sons.”
The words were defensive, but his gaze flicked toward her pendant.
“I did.”
“What happened to them?”
“They were taken.”
“By who?”
“I never found out.”
Noah swallowed.
“How old were they?”
“Three years old. Twins.”
His expression changed.
He knew the ages did not fit.
Noah was eleven.
Eli was nine.
Margaret saw suspicion return.
“We’re not them.”
“I don’t know who you are.”
“Then why are you acting like you do?”
“Because you have half of my pendant. Because your father is supposed to be dead. Because your aunt helped bury two empty coffins while apparently raising children she never mentioned.”
The older officer handed Thomas’s identification back.
“Everyone is coming to the precinct.”
Noah shook his head.
“No.”
“It isn’t optional.”
The boy looked toward the mouth of the alley.
The restaurant manager stepped sideways, blocking the route.
Noah reached into his pocket.
Margaret expected another photograph.
Instead, he pulled out a small kitchen knife.
The officers reacted instantly.
“Drop it.”
Eli screamed.
Noah held the blade in front of himself, his hand shaking so badly that the tip flashed in every direction.
“It’s not for you,” he said.
“Put it down, Noah,” Margaret whispered.
“They’ll send us back.”
“No one is sending you anywhere tonight.”
“You can’t promise that.”
He was right.
Margaret had wealth, attorneys, and influence.
But she was not their guardian.
She was not their mother.
She did not even know whether they were telling the truth.
Still, she stepped between Noah and the officers.
“Give me the knife.”
His breathing came in quick, painful bursts.
“Why?”
“Because your brother is terrified.”
Noah looked at Eli.
The younger boy’s hands covered his ears.
The knife lowered.
Margaret reached out.
Noah placed the handle in her palm.
The moment he released it, the older officer stepped forward and caught his wrist.
Noah shouted.
Eli lunged.
Margaret rose sharply.
“I said no one touches them.”
“Ms. Hayes, the child had a weapon.”
“And he surrendered it.”
The officer’s grip loosened.
Thomas’s phone vibrated.
He checked the screen.
Every trace of color left his face.
“What is it?” Margaret asked.
He turned the phone toward her.
A live video feed showed a dim basement.
A man sat tied to a chair beneath a bare bulb.
His face was bruised, his beard streaked with gray.
May you like
Daniel Mercer lifted his head toward the camera.
Then Rebecca stepped into frame and placed a gun against his temple.
