Chapter 18 - The Boy Beneath the Stars
Rachel could not sleep.
At three seventeen in the morning she climbed into the attic.
The painted stars remained above her.
Seven of them.
Faded.
Childish.
And suddenly unbearable.
Nathan followed quietly.
“I remembered you,” Rachel said.
“I know.”
“You were crying.”
Nathan sat on an old wooden trunk.
“So were you.”
“I don’t remember that.”
“You were six.”
“How old were you?”
“Nine.”
Rachel frowned.
The dates did not make sense.
Nathan understood.
“My adoption happened when I was an infant. What you remember came years later.”
He explained that his adoptive father had died when Nathan was eight.
Soon afterward someone began asking questions about his biological parents.
His adoptive mother panicked.
She contacted the attorney who had handled the placement.
That attorney contacted Arthur.
Arthur brought Nathan to the Whitmore house for three nights while new documents and a safer address were arranged.
“You slept here?”
“Above the garage first. Then here.”
Rachel looked around.
“I thought Dad told me you were my cousin.”
“He told me you were his daughter and that I should stay away from the windows.”
Rachel smiled sadly.
“That sounds like him.”
Nathan looked toward the painted ceiling.
“You kept sneaking up anyway.”
“Why?”
“You brought cookies.”
That brought the first genuine laugh Rachel had produced in days.
Then it faded.
“What did Dad tell you?”
“That if someone came upstairs, I should hide behind the east wall.”
Rachel turned.
“There is no space behind the east wall.”
Nathan stood.
“There was.”
They moved an old bookcase.
Behind it, the wallpaper did not match.
Nathan pressed his palm against the panel.
Nothing happened.
Rachel remembered.
Three knocks.
She knocked slowly.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
A latch released.
They stared at each other.
Nathan pulled the panel open.
Behind it was not a room.
It was a narrow compartment filled with cables.
Old network equipment.
And a small digital recorder.
A green light was still blinking.
Rachel whispered, “It’s running.”
Nathan crouched beside it.
“Not recording.”
“How do you know?”
He pointed at a network indicator.
“It’s transmitting.”
“To where?”
Neither knew.
Then a small screen illuminated.
One line appeared.
REMOTE ARCHIVE ACTIVE.
Rachel ran downstairs.
Marlow, Eleanor, Daniel and Samuel gathered around the device.
Samuel went pale.
Eleanor noticed.
“What is it?”
Samuel stared at the green light.
“Arthur’s insurance policy.”
Marlow turned toward him.
“You knew about this too?”
Samuel answered reluctantly.
“I knew he wanted an independent backup.”
“Where?”
“I never knew.”
Nathan looked at him.
“Peter did.”
Samuel’s eyes moved toward him.
Nathan continued.
“And Peter told me something else.”
“What?”
“The last person who accessed Arthur’s remote archive before he disappeared…”
May you like
Nathan paused.
“…was you.”
