Chapter 9
My father’s name was Michael Miller.
I was ten when he left.
At least that was the story.
My mother told Daniel and me that Dad had met someone else.
Packed a bag.
Disappeared.
No calls.
No birthday cards.
Nothing.
For years, I hated him.
Then I stopped caring.
Or told myself I did.
Now Emily was telling me he didn’t leave.
“He disappeared?”
She nodded.
“When?”
“The same year your mother told you he left.”
“You’re lying.”
“I wish I was.”
“Why would Mom lie?”
“To protect you.”
“From what?”
“Victor.”
The coffee shop felt silent even though people were talking around us.
Detective Bennett was listening through the wire hidden under my jacket.
I knew police were outside.
But suddenly I felt like a child again.
Ten years old.
Standing at the window.
Waiting for my father’s car.
“Tell me everything.”
Emily looked at her hands.
“Your father was a systems engineer at Hale Technologies. He helped design early surveillance software.”
“Like Mark?”
“Before Mark.”
My stomach dropped.
“He discovered Victor was using corporate security systems to collect personal information on employees.”
“Blackmail.”
“Yes.”
“Dad found out.”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“He tried to expose Victor.”
I laughed once.
A terrible sound.
“Of course he did.”
My father.
Daniel.
Same story.
Different generation.
“Did Victor kill him?”
“I don’t know.”
“That answer is getting old.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Did you know my father?”
“No. My father did.”
I stared.
“You said your father worked for Victor too.”
“Yes.”
“And he died.”
“Yes.”
“After my father disappeared?”
“Two weeks later.”
I felt cold.
“What was his name?”
“Thomas Hart.”
That name hit something in my memory.
A box in my mother’s attic.
Old photographs.
One photo showed Dad standing beside another man at a company picnic.
On the back, someone wrote:
Mike & Tom, 2004.
“You knew.”
“Not when I met you.”
“When did you find out?”
“Years later.”
“And you stayed my friend.”
“Because you were my friend.”
“You were spying on me.”
“At first!”
I slammed my hand on the table.
People looked over.
Emily lowered her voice.
“I was twenty-three. I was stupid and scared. Victor paid my tuition after my father died. He told me your family was dangerous.”
“My family?”
“He said your father stole company secrets. He said your mother was hiding evidence.”
“And you believed him.”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Not long.”
“How long?”
“Eight months.”
Eight months.
Eight months of friendship built on a lie.
Then twelve years of silence.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because by then I loved you.”
I shook my head.
“That doesn’t make it better.”
“I know.”
“No, you keep saying that. You don’t know.”
Tears rolled down her face.
“You’re right.”
I sat again.
“Did Daniel find out what happened to Dad?”
“I think so.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Two days before he died, he called me.”
“What did he say?”
“He asked whether Victor kept old employee archives.”
“Did he?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Hale Technologies.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Police will never get near them.”
“They might now.”
Emily looked around nervously.
“Victor keeps physical backups.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then what good is any of this?”
“Daniel knew.”
My pulse quickened.
“How?”
“He told me he found a reference to something called ‘Cold Room.’”
“Cold Room?”
“A restricted archive.”
“Where?”
“He didn’t tell me.”
I leaned toward her.
“Think.”
“I am.”
“What else did he say?”
Emily frowned.
“He said, ‘If the dead could talk, Victor would already be in prison.’”
I froze.
“If the dead could talk.”
“Yes.”
I remembered the flash drive.
Daniel’s storage locker.
His habit of speaking in riddles when he was afraid someone might hear.
Maybe “dead” didn’t mean people.
Maybe it meant dead systems.
Old computers.
Archived drives.
“Cold storage,” I whispered.
Emily looked at me.
“What?”
“Companies call offline data storage cold storage.”
“Yes.”
“Cold Room might literally be a server archive.”
Her eyes widened.
Before we could continue, the coffee shop lights went out.
Everything went dark.
Someone screamed.
A chair crashed.
My instincts took over.
I dropped below the table.
“Emily!”
No answer.
I heard running.
Then the lights flashed back on.
Emily’s chair was empty.
The side door was swinging.
I ran.
Detective Bennett burst through the front entrance.
“Sarah!”
“They took her!”
Officers ran outside.
I followed until Bennett grabbed me.
“Stay here!”
Through the glass, I saw a black SUV race from the alley.
Police vehicles followed.
My phone—one the police had temporarily given me—buzzed.
Unknown number.
A photo appeared.
Emily sat in the back of a vehicle.
Blood on her lip.
Eyes wide.
Underneath:
STOP DIGGING INTO THE DEAD.
I showed Bennett.
Then a second message arrived.
OR ETHAN LOSES MORE THAN HIS HANDS.
I stopped breathing.
My son.
“Where is Ethan?”
Bennett grabbed her radio.
The protected residence didn’t answer.
Again.
Nothing.
My body went numb.
“WHERE IS MY SON?”
Bennett shouted into the radio.
Finally someone responded.
The safe location was intact.
My mother and Ethan were safe.
I nearly collapsed.
Then my temporary phone rang.
Unknown number.
Bennett nodded.
“Answer. Speaker.”
I did.
A distorted voice said, “Sarah Carter.”
“Where is Emily?”
“She made her choice.”
“If you hurt her—”
“You are not in a position to threaten anyone.”
“What do you want?”
“The drive Daniel left.”
I looked at Bennett.
She shook her head slightly.
“I don’t have it.”
“You can get it.”
“No.”
The voice paused.
Then laughed softly.
“You sound like your father.”
My breath stopped.
“What do you know about my father?”
A long silence.
Then:
“He’s alive.”
Every part of me froze.
“That’s impossible.”
“No.”
“Where is he?”
“Bring Daniel’s drive.”
“Where is my father?”
“You’ll receive instructions.”
The call ended.
I stared at the phone.
Bennett immediately ordered a trace.
No result.
Disposable routing again.
I whispered, “They’re lying.”
Maybe they were.
But I could see something in Emily’s face before she disappeared.
Fear.
Not surprise.
Like she had known this secret too.
My father might be alive.
After twenty-two years.
I called Mom.
When she answered, I said only one sentence.
“Is Dad alive?”
Silence.
Then I heard her begin to cry.
And I knew.
“You knew.”
“Sarah—”
“You knew!”
“I didn’t know where he was.”
“But you knew he didn’t leave us.”
“Yes.”
The word destroyed the last piece of the story I had believed.
“Why?”
“Because he begged me to lie.”
I closed my eyes.
“Why?”
“He said Victor would use us to find him.”
“Where did he go?”
“I never knew.”
“Did Daniel know?”
“Not until last year.”
That explained everything.
Daniel’s sudden interest in Mark.
Victor.
BrightSteps.
He wasn’t only investigating my husband.
He was finishing our father’s fight.
“Mom.”
“Yes?”
“What did Dad tell you before he disappeared?”
She was crying hard now.
“One thing.”
“What?”
“If Victor ever found him, he said there was only one place he could survive.”
“Where?”
“I never understood it.”
“What did he say?”
Mom took a breath.
“He said, ‘Go back to where the sky never changes.’”
I stared at the wall.
Then I remembered.
Our father used to take us camping.
There was one place he loved more than anywhere.
A mountain cabin near a lake.
At night, because there were almost no city lights, the sky looked enormous.
Dad would point to Polaris.
The North Star.
The star that barely seemed to move.
The sky never changes.
I whispered, “North.”
Detective Bennett looked at me sharply.
Mark had given me code names.
Lantern.
Mother.
North.
I suddenly understood.
May you like
North wasn’t a corrupt official.
North might be my father.
