Chapter 12 - THE NIGHT CHRISTINE NEVER TALKED ABOUT
Christine denied it at first.
Not convincingly.
When Ethan returned to Rachel’s clinic, Jake was asleep.
Christine sat alone in the kitchen.
Ethan placed Frank’s photograph on the table.
“He says you remember the fire.”
Her eyes immediately moved away.
“That tells me he’s right.”
She looked exhausted.
“Some things are better buried.”
“That sentence has nearly killed our son twice.”
Christine closed her eyes.
Ethan sat opposite her.
“No shouting.”
She looked at him.
“No threats.”
He waited.
“Just truth.”
Christine’s eyes filled.
“The fire happened the night my mother died.”
Ethan remained silent.
“I was sixteen.”
She wrapped both hands around a cup she wasn’t drinking.
“Dad told me to stay upstairs. I heard arguing below.”
“Who?”
“You. Mom. Dr. Vale. Mason. Dad.”
“All of us?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“Mom found documents.”
“What documents?”
“About the Consortium.”
Ethan listened.
“She wanted to take them to a reporter. Dad caught her.”
Christine’s breathing changed.
“I went downstairs.”
Ethan waited.
“Mom was strapped to a chair.”
His jaw tightened.
“You were beside her.”
“Me?”
“You were bleeding.”
Another memory flickered.
A woman screaming.
Christine crying.
Frank holding a syringe.
“What did I do?”
“You broke free.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“What happened to your mother?”
Christine looked down.
“Dad injected her.”
“Vale said overdose.”
“Yes.”
“Did she die there?”
Christine nodded.
Ethan’s eyes closed briefly.
“And then?”
“You attacked Dad.”
“Did I kill him?”
“No. Mason stopped you.”
Ethan frowned.
“Why?”
“Mason said there were armed teams outside.”
“That sounds possible.”
“Then Dr. Vale grabbed Caleb.”
Ethan looked up.
“Caleb was there.”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“Caleb bit him and ran.”
Despite everything, Ethan almost smiled.
“Sounds like Caleb.”
Christine gave a broken little laugh.
“You chased him.”
“Why?”
“To protect him.”
“Where did he go?”
“Lower level.”
“What was there?”
Christine shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
“You followed.”
“Yes.”
“Then?”
“There was an explosion.”
Ethan remembered fire.
Smoke.
Heat.
A child screaming.
Christine continued.
“Dad pulled me upstairs. We escaped through the garage.”
“What about Mason?”
“I thought he died.”
“Vale?”
“Same.”
“Me?”
She looked at him.
“I thought you died too.”
“But I didn’t.”
“No.”
“How did I get out?”
Christine’s voice became strange.
“You didn’t.”
Ethan stared.
“What?”
“I saw Dad return two days later.”
“To Site Twelve?”
“No.”
“To our house.”
“And?”
“He had you.”
Ethan’s blood went cold.
“Alive?”
“Barely.”
“How?”
“I asked.”
“What did he say?”
Christine looked at him.
“He said they found you twelve miles away.”
Ethan frowned.
“That’s impossible.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
“Because you were burned.”
Ethan instinctively looked at his arms.
No serious burn scars.
Christine shook her head.
“Not you.”
“What?”
“The man Dad brought home was burned.”
Ethan’s pulse slowed.
“Explain.”
“His face. His hands. His chest.”
“Then it wasn’t me.”
“I thought it was.”
“Why?”
“Because Dad called him Ethan.”
The corpse in Christine’s trunk.
Reconstructed dental records.
Similar height.
Similar bone structure.
Ethan whispered, “There was another man.”
Christine nodded slowly.
“Maybe.”
“What happened to him?”
“Dad kept him downstairs.”
“For how long?”
“Months.”
“Did you ever see his face healed?”
“No.”
“Did you speak to him?”
“Once.”
“What did he say?”
Christine closed her eyes.
“He asked me where Caleb was.”
Ethan stood abruptly.
“What?”
“He knew Caleb.”
“Exactly what did he say?”
“He grabbed my wrist and said, ‘Tell Ethan Caleb got out.’”
Ethan felt the world tilt.
The burned man was not Ethan.
He knew Ethan.
He knew Caleb.
And he wanted Christine to pass a message.
“What happened to him?”
“One day he disappeared.”
“Did Frank kill him?”
“I don’t know.”
Ethan paced.
Then stopped.
“What caused the explosion at Site Twelve?”
Christine hesitated.
“Dad said you did.”
“Did you see me do it?”
“No.”
“Who was near the lower level?”
“You. Caleb. Vale.”
“And?”
Christine’s eyes widened.
A memory surfacing.
“There was someone else.”
“Who?”
“A woman.”
Ethan stepped closer.
“What woman?”
“I never knew her name.”
“Describe her.”
“Dark hair. Military clothing.”
“How old?”
“Maybe thirty.”
“Did you hear anything?”
Christine nodded slowly.
“Caleb called her Aunt Sarah.”
Mason, who had entered quietly, dropped the folder he was carrying.
Ethan turned.
“You know that name.”
Mason looked shaken.
“Yes.”
“Who was Sarah?”
May you like
Mason swallowed.
“My sister.”
