Chapter 2: The Man Who Knew My Mother's Name
I didn't move.
The knocking came again.
“Alex, my name is Agent Miller. Your mother is in danger. We need to get you out of this house.””
I looked at the phone.
Thomas was breathing hard on the other end.
“Do not open that door,” he said.
“But he says he's FBI.””
“I know what he says.””
“How do I know you're telling the truth?””
For the first time, Thomas sounded almost hurt.
“You don't. Not yet. But your mother knew this day might come, and she made arrangements for you. I need you to trust the instructions she gave you.””
Outside my bedroom, the man tried the handle.
“Alex, I understand you're frightened. Your father has been taken into custody. We need to find your mother.””
I flinched at the words.
Taken into custody.
That meant Dad was gone, didn't it?
“Is my mom okay?”” I called through the door.
There was a pause.
“She is being treated by paramedics.””
I pressed the phone harder against my ear.
“Thomas, is my mom okay?””
“I haven't reached her yet.””
The man outside spoke again.
“Alex, if you don't open this door, I will have to force it.””
Thomas immediately said, “Ask him what your mother told him about the birds.””
I swallowed.
“What did my mom say about the birds?”” I called.
Silence.
Then the man laughed softly.
“Son, I don't know anything about birds. But I know you're scared, and I know you want your mother.””
The answer sounded reasonable.
It also sounded wrong.
Mom had said that the phrase would identify the people she trusted. If the man really was there to help, wouldn't someone have told him?
Thomas spoke quickly.
“There's a small wooden box in your closet. Your mother put something inside it. Get it now, but keep the phone with you.””
I crawled out from beneath the desk.
My bedroom suddenly looked different. The baseball trophies on my shelf seemed childish. The family photographs on my dresser looked like evidence from somebody else's life.
I crossed to the closet and shoved aside a pile of old sweatshirts.
Behind a shoebox, I found a small wooden box.
It was dark brown, with a brass latch.
I'd never seen it before.
Inside was a folded photograph, a silver key, and a letter with my name written across the front in Mom's handwriting.
My hands shook as I opened it.
Alex,
If you're reading this, your father has found out who I really am.
I'm sorry I didn't tell you the truth sooner. I wanted you to have a normal childhood. I wanted you to grow up believing your parents were just parents, not people with secrets.
But your father is not the man you think he is.
And neither is the woman you know as your mother.
I stopped reading.
The room seemed to tilt around me.
“What does it say?”” Thomas asked.
I couldn't answer.
I kept reading.
The silver key opens a locker at Union Station. Inside, you'll find the truth about the night I disappeared twelve years ago.
Whatever happens, do not give the key to Daniel.
And if a man named Peter Miller comes looking for you, do not trust him.
I read the name again.
Peter Miller.
The FBI agent outside my door had introduced himself as Agent Miller.
I backed away from the door.
“Thomas,” I whispered, “the letter says not to trust Peter Miller.””
Thomas went completely silent.
Then he said, “Describe the man outside.””
“I can't see him.””
“Listen carefully. Did he identify himself as Peter Miller?””
“Yes.””
“Then your mother was right.””
A cold shiver ran down my spine.
“Who is he?””
“Someone who has been looking for your mother for twelve years.””
The door rattled as Miller struck it with his shoulder.
“Alex! Open up!””
I clutched the letter.
“Why does he want her?””
“Because she has evidence that can destroy several powerful people. Your father is one of them.””
I stared at the family photograph on my dresser.
It showed Dad holding me on his shoulders at a county fair. Mom stood beside us, smiling, one hand resting on my father's arm.
We looked happy.
We looked ordinary.
“Then why did she marry him?”” I asked.
“Because she was supposed to bring him down.””
The words didn't make sense.
“What?””
Thomas exhaled slowly.
“Your mother was working undercover. She entered your father's life to investigate a criminal organization he helped run. She was supposed to gather evidence, report back, and leave before anyone discovered who she was.””
I shook my head.
“No. My mom works at the library.””
“She does now.””
“She makes pancakes on Sundays.””
“I know.””
“She comes to my school plays.””
“I know, Alex.””
“Then you don't know anything!””
My voice cracked.
For twelve years, my mother had sat across from me at the dinner table, asking about homework and friends. She had kissed my forehead when I was sick. She had stayed up all night making a cardboard volcano for my science project because I had forgotten to tell her about it until the evening before.
Was all of that a lie?
Thomas's voice softened.
“No. Those things were real. Whatever else she did before you were born, the love she has for you is real.””
I wanted to believe him.
But another question was forming in my mind.
If Mom had been undercover, how had she ended up having me?
And why had she stayed with the man she was investigating?
Before I could ask, a crash sounded downstairs.
Miller shouted, “Check the back rooms!””
Another voice answered, “We've got movement in the basement!””
Thomas swore under his breath.
“Alex, we have a problem.””
“What now?””
“The men downstairs aren't all working together. Some are real officers. Others are part of your father's security team.””
“Security team? My dad sells medical equipment!””
“That's the story he gave you.””
My stomach twisted.
The man I'd watched pack lunches and mow the lawn had built an entire second life around us.
And my mother had known.
A sudden bang shook my doorframe.
Miller shouted, “Last chance, kid!””
Thomas said, “Go to the window. Can you see the garage roof?””
I moved the curtain aside.
Our house backed onto a narrow alley, and the garage roof sat just below my bedroom window. It was only a few feet down, but the ground beneath it was hard concrete.
“Yes.””
“There's a red SUV behind the garage. Do you see it?””
I peered down.
A red SUV sat with its headlights off.
A man stood beside it, wearing a dark coat.
He looked up at my window.
Then he raised one hand.
“That's me,” Thomas said.
“I'm outside. I need you to climb down onto the garage roof. I'll get you from there.””
I stared at the drop.
“I can't.””
“You can. Your mother told me you were braver than you think.””
“How do you know my mother?””
“Because I knew her before she became Claire Carter.””
The doorknob rattled again.
I stuffed the letter and silver key into my pocket, opened the window, and climbed onto the sill.
Cold air hit my face.
I swung one leg outside.
Then the other.
My sneakers scraped the siding as I searched for a foothold. My fingers slipped on the windowsill, and for one horrible second, I hung above the garage roof with nothing beneath my feet.
“Alex!”” Thomas shouted from below.
I dropped.
My knees slammed into the shingles.
Pain shot through my legs, but I rolled onto my side and crawled toward the edge. Thomas reached up and caught my arm, lowering me the final few feet.
The moment my shoes touched the ground, he pulled me behind the SUV.
He was in his late forties, with gray at his temples and a scar running from his left ear to his jaw.
He looked at me like he had been waiting twelve years to see my face.
“Alex,” he whispered.
I stepped back.
“Who are you really?””
He opened his coat and showed me a badge.
“Thomas Reed. United States Marshal.””
I stared at it.
“Then why did you say you weren't exactly a police officer?””
“Because marshals aren't police officers.””
“That sounds like something a criminal would say.””
To my surprise, he almost smiled.
“Your mother has the same mouth.””
A shout came from the house.
“THE BOY IS GONE!””
Thomas grabbed my shoulder.
“We need to move.””
“Where's my mom?””
“We'll find her.””
“You said that before.””
He looked at me, and I saw something in his expression that frightened me more than the gun had.
He wasn't sure he could keep that promise.
Then a black sedan turned into the alley.
Its headlights illuminated us.
Thomas shoved me behind him.
The sedan stopped.
The rear door opened.
A woman stepped out.
She wore a dark suit and had her hair pulled tightly back. A small silver badge hung from her neck.
She looked directly at me.
Then she said, “Alex, sweetheart. I've been looking for you.””
I recognized her voice.
It was the voice from the hallway.
The woman who had claimed to be an FBI agent.
Peter Miller.
Except she wasn't a man.
And when Thomas raised his weapon, she didn't even flinch.
“Put that away, Reed,” she said.
“You have no idea what that boy is carrying.””
Her eyes dropped to my pocket.
The pocket containing the silver key.
Then she smiled.
“Alex, your mother lied to you about everything. But there's one thing she never told you.””
May you like
She took a step closer.
“I'm the reason she survived the night she was supposed to die.””
