Chapter 5 - The Brother Who Wasn't the Brother
Ryan stared at the photograph.
“No.”
Patricia looked at him.
“Ryan.”
“No.”
He stepped away.
“You're saying Daniel isn't family?”
“He was never family.”
Ryan shook his head.
“I grew up with him.”
“So did I,” Claire said.
Patricia's eyes filled with tears.
“That was the point.”
Ryan looked at Claire.
“I don't understand.”
Neither did she.
For years, Daniel had been the person who brought gifts to family dinners.
He had taught Ryan how to fish.
He had helped Claire prepare for military interviews.
He had once driven six hours through a snowstorm to attend her graduation.
How could all of that have been a lie?
Graves examined the photograph.
“When was this taken?”
Richard answered.
“Three years ago.”
“Where?”
“Arlington.”
Graves frowned.
“That's impossible.”
“Why?”
“Daniel Whitaker died twelve years ago.”
Claire stared at him.
“What?”
Graves turned the photograph around.
On the back was a date.
The date of Daniel's supposed death.
Claire looked at Richard.
“You knew?”
“I suspected.”
“Then why did you let him stay around us?”
Richard's voice broke.
“Because every time I tried to expose him, someone else disappeared.”
Ryan stepped forward.
“Who?”
Richard hesitated.
“People who helped us.”
Patricia said quietly:
“And people who asked too many questions.”
Claire felt a growing sense of dread.
“What did Daniel want?”
Patricia looked at her.
“Your tattoo.”
Claire covered her arm.
“Why?”
“Because the symbol isn't just an identification mark.”
Graves nodded.
“It is a key.”
Claire frowned.
“A key to what?”
Richard opened another file.
Inside was a photograph of a metal door.
On the door was the same symbol.
Below it was a series of numbers.
Claire stared.
“Where is that?”
Graves answered:
“Fort Bragg.”
Claire looked at him.
“That's an active military installation.”
“Yes.”
“Then why is there a secret door there?”
Graves said nothing.
Ryan suddenly noticed something.
“Wait.”
He pointed to the photograph.
“That's not the door.”
Claire looked closer.
“What?”
Ryan touched the corner.
“There are coordinates.”
Graves took the photograph.
His eyes widened.
“These aren't coordinates for Fort Bragg.”
“Then where?”
May you like
Graves slowly looked at Claire.
“Your childhood home.”
