Chapter 7: The Person I Trusted Most
There is a particular kind of betrayal that hurts more than anger.
It is confusion.
Because anger is simple.
Anger knows where to go.
Confusion turns in circles.
I stared at the signature on the transport order.
My signature.
Except it wasn’t mine.
The handwriting looked similar.
Almost perfect.
A professional forgery.
Someone had practiced.
Someone had studied me.
Alvarez placed the paper on the table.
“Have you ever signed transfer authorizations like this?””
“Yes.””
“Would someone know your signature?””
“Anyone in my unit.””
“Would someone have access to your digital authorization?””
I didn’t answer.
Because I already knew.
“Yes.””
“Who?””
I closed my eyes.
And one name came immediately.
“David.””
Alvarez looked at me.
“Detective David Mercer?””
I nodded.
My partner after Ethan.
The man who helped me rebuild after losing Ethan.
The man who brought me coffee when I worked overnight.
The man who told me I was like family.
Alvarez noticed my expression.
“You think he’s involved?””
“I don’t want to.””
“That wasn’t my question.””
I looked at the table.
“No.””
The answer came too quickly.
And I hated that.
Because it sounded exactly like Cross.
Too fast.
Too emotional.
Too certain.
Alvarez stood.
“Find him.””
“I need to talk to him.””
“No.””
“Renata—”
“No.””
Her voice sharpened.
“Because if he’s involved, he knows you’re coming.””
I hated that she was right.
Again.
The problem with good detectives was that they ruined your favorite lies.
My phone buzzed.
A message.
Unknown number.
One sentence.
STOP LOOKING FOR ETHAN.
A second message appeared.
YOU WON’T LIKE WHAT YOU FIND.
I showed Alvarez.
She immediately copied it.
“Can you trace it?””
“Probably not.””
“Why?””
“Because whoever sent this knows how to disappear.””
She looked at me.
“Everyone keeps telling you to stop.””
I nodded.
“Yes.””
“Why haven’t you?””
I looked at the message.
Because the answer was simple.
Because two years ago, I failed Ethan.
I believed the report.
I believed the department.
I believed the people who told me there was nothing left to find.
I had accepted the ending.
And someone had counted on that.
“Because if Ethan survived all this time,” I said, “he survived for a reason.””
Alvarez didn’t respond.
She understood.
That was the difference between her and everyone else.
She didn’t tell me to let go.
She asked why I was holding on.
An hour later, we found David Mercer.
Not at the station.
Not at home.
At Ethan’s old apartment.
The place had been empty since his disappearance.
But the door was unlocked.
Inside, everything was covered in dust.
Except one table.
On that table were photographs.
Files.
And a map.
My photograph was in the center.
I walked closer.
My face.
My house.
My daily schedule.
The places I visited.
The people I trusted.
Alvarez looked around.
“This isn’t an investigation.””
“No.””
My voice was quiet.
“This is surveillance.””
A sound came from the hallway.
A footstep.
We turned.
“Police!”” Alvarez shouted.
No answer.
Another step.
Then a man appeared.
David Mercer.
His hands were raised.
His face looked exhausted.
“Marcus.””
I stared at him.
“David.””
He looked at Alvarez.
Then back at me.
“I can explain.””
I laughed softly.
“That’s what everyone says right before they lie.””
His face fell.
“You think I did this?””
“You tell me.””
He looked at the photographs.
Then back at me.
“I was trying to protect you.””
The sentence made my anger disappear.
Only for a second.
Because it was the same sentence everyone used.
Protect.
Protect.
Protect.
Always protection.
Never truth.
“From what?””
David looked toward the window.
Like he was afraid someone was listening.
Then he said:
“From Ethan.””
The room went silent.
“Why?””
David swallowed.
“Because Ethan isn’t the victim.””
I stepped closer.
“Then what is he?””
David looked at me.
May you like
And whispered:
“He’s the person who started all of this.””
