Chapter 6: Locker 317
“No police.””
Marcus stared at me.
“That’s not happening.””
I shoved the note into my pocket.
“Whoever took Milo knows where Claire is.””
“Or wants you to believe that.””
Lucy was crying against Margaret’s chest.
“He promised me.””
I crouched beside her.
“Who promised you?””
“The man.””
“What man?””
“The one from the hallway.””
“Thomas?””
She shook her head violently.
“No. The other man.””
My pulse jumped.
“What did he look like?””
“Old.””
“How old?””
“Like Grandpa.””
“What was he wearing?””
“A black coat.””
“Did he say anything?””
Lucy wiped her nose.
“He said Milo had to go see Mommy.””
My chest tightened.
“He used her name?””
She nodded.
“He said Claire.””
Marcus immediately checked the hallway camera feed with hotel security.
Two minutes later, his expression changed.
“What?””
“The cameras went offline for ninety-seven seconds.””
“Accident?””
“No.””
“Inside job?””
“Most likely.””
I looked at the clock.
8:43 p.m.
Midnight was three hours away.
Marcus lowered his voice.
“We control the meeting. You appear alone. My team stays out of sight.””
“No uniforms.””
“Agreed.””
“No one touches the locker until I arrive.””
“Nathan—”
“They asked for me.””
“They kidnapped an infant. They don’t get to set all the rules.””
I looked toward Lucy.
“They already have.””
At 11:52 p.m., I entered Union Station alone.
The grand hall was nearly empty.
My tuxedo had been replaced with dark trousers and a black coat. My wedding ring finger was still bare.
Eight hours earlier, I had expected to be married.
Now I was hunting for my missing infant brother and the woman I had loved half my life.
Locker 317 sat at the end of a narrow corridor.
I inserted the brass key.
It turned.
Inside was no baby.
No Claire.
Only a small black recorder.
I pressed play.
Static.
Then Claire’s voice.
“Nathan.””
My knees nearly gave way.
Eleven years disappeared in one syllable.
Her voice was older.
Tired.
But unmistakable.
“If you’re hearing this, something went wrong.””
I gripped the recorder.
“I’m sorry.””
I closed my eyes.
“I’m sorry I let you hate me. I thought hatred would keep you away from what your father left behind.””
A pause.
Then:
“Lucy is yours. I never lied to her about that.””
My throat tightened.
“But the truth about Milo is more dangerous.””
Footsteps sounded somewhere behind me.
I turned.
Empty corridor.
Claire continued.
“Your father didn’t know Milo existed. Anna died before she could tell him.””
I frowned.
Charles had died six years ago.
Milo was seven months old.
That was impossible.
Claire’s voice trembled.
“Because Charles Cole is not Milo’s father.””
I stopped breathing.
“Everyone misunderstood Anna’s records. Milo isn’t your brother because Charles fathered him.””
Another pause.
“He’s your brother because your mother did.””
I stared at the recorder.
“What?””
Claire continued before I could process it.
“Eleanor had another son.””
My entire body went cold.
“His name is Daniel.””
I had never heard that name.
“She gave him up before you were born. Charles never knew.””
The recorder crackled.
“Daniel is Milo’s father.””
I leaned against the lockers.
My mother had another child.
A son.
My brother.
And Milo wasn’t my brother.
He was my nephew.
“Daniel found me six months ago,” Claire continued.
“At first, I thought he wanted his son. I was wrong.””
Her breathing became uneven.
“He wanted Rebecca’s evidence.””
I glanced toward the corridor again.
“Anna had hidden it before she died. Daniel believed I knew where.””
The recording stopped.
“No.””
I hit play again.
Nothing.
Then a second file began automatically.
This time a man spoke.
“Nathan.””
I froze.
“You don’t know me, but we share a mother.””
Daniel.
“If you want Claire and my son alive, stop Marcus Hale from following you.””
My eyes moved instinctively toward the security camera above the corridor.
“He’s not protecting you.””
The message continued.
“He worked for Charles before he worked for you.””
I thought of Marcus appearing in Boston after my hotel room had been robbed.
My stomach twisted.
“He knows what happened the snow night.””
Footsteps echoed behind me.
Slow.
Deliberate.
I turned.
Marcus stood at the end of the corridor.
Alone.
“Nathan.””
I slipped the recorder into my coat.
“You followed me.””
“Of course I followed you.””
“You promised you wouldn’t.””
“I promised you wouldn’t see us.””
He approached.
“Did you find anything?””
I watched his face.
For years, Marcus had been the man I trusted with my life.
Now every memory looked different.
“You worked for my father.””
He stopped.
“Who told you that?””
“That isn’t a denial.””
Marcus exhaled.
“It was a long time ago.””
“Were you in Boston seven years ago?””
His expression tightened.
“Yes.””
“Did you enter my hotel room?””
“Nathan—”
“Did you?””
“Yes.””
The answer struck like a physical blow.
“Did you drug me?””
“No.””
“Did you steal my laptop?””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
“Because Eleanor ordered me to.””
Rage surged through me.
“You erased Claire again.””
“I thought I was protecting you.””
I laughed bitterly.
“You people love that word.””
Marcus lowered his voice.
“Your father had enemies. Claire had stumbled into something she didn’t understand.””
“She understood enough to spend eleven years running.””
Marcus looked away.
That was when I heard it.
A baby crying.
Faint.
Somewhere beyond the lockers.
“Milo.””
I ran.
“Nathan, wait!””
The cry came again.
I followed it through a maintenance door and down a concrete stairwell.
At the bottom was an underground service platform.
One bare bulb burned overhead.
A stroller stood in the center.
Milo lay inside it.
Crying.
I rushed forward.
Then stopped.
A woman stood beyond the stroller.
Thin.
Dark hair.
A scar near her eyebrow.
Older than the photograph in my memory.
But I knew her before she spoke.
“Nathan.””
My heart seemed to stop.
“Claire.””
Tears filled her eyes.
For eleven years, I had imagined what I would say if I ever saw her again.
Nothing survived the moment.
I took one step toward her.
She shook her head.
“Don’t.””
“Claire—”
“Please.””
“Who did this to you?””
Her eyes moved past me.
Toward Marcus.
Fear transformed her face.
Marcus reached the bottom of the stairs.
Claire backed away.
“No.””
I stepped between them.
“Marcus, stay there.””
He stopped.
Claire whispered, “You brought him.””
“He followed me.””
“You don’t understand.””
“Then tell me.””
Her eyes locked on mine.
“The night we were together in Boston, Marcus wasn’t there to protect you.””
I looked over my shoulder.
Marcus’s face had gone completely still.
Claire’s voice dropped to a whisper.
May you like
“He was there to make sure you never remembered me.””
And behind us, the maintenance door slammed shut.
