PART 3 — THE BOY THEY WERE HUNTING
The footsteps grew louder.
One.
Two.
Three people.
Maybe more.
Noah’s fingers tightened around mine.
“Mom, who are they?”
“I don’t know.”
But I knew one thing.
They weren’t here for me.
They weren’t here for Michael.
They were here for Noah.
Michael pushed us toward the pantry.
“Get inside.”
“What about you?”
“Just go.”
I pulled Noah behind me, but before we reached the door, a flashlight swept across the kitchen.
A man’s voice called out.
“Michael!”
Michael froze.
“Come out.”
The voice was calm.
Almost friendly.
That frightened me more than shouting would have.
Michael looked at me.
“Whatever you hear, don’t let Noah answer them.”
The pantry door closed.
Through the narrow gap, I could see three men enter the kitchen.
The first was tall and dressed in a black coat.
The second carried a briefcase.
The third stood near the doorway and watched Michael.
The man with the briefcase smiled.
“You’ve made this much harder than it needed to be.”
Michael didn’t respond.
“You were supposed to disappear with Sarah.”
“I did.”
“No. You brought her back.”
The man glanced around.
“And you brought the boy.”
Michael’s jaw tightened.
“He’s my son.”
The man laughed.
“No, Michael.”
He opened the briefcase.
“He’s the reason your father has been looking for Sarah all these years.”
My heart stopped.
Michael stepped forward.
“Don’t talk about Victor.”
“Why not?”
The man removed a folder.
“Victor is the only reason any of this happened.”
He dropped the folder onto the kitchen table.
Photographs spilled across the surface.
I couldn’t see all of them.
But I saw one.
A photograph of me.
Twenty-three years younger.
Standing beside my mother.
Then another.
Me holding a newborn baby.
My hands began to shake.
Noah wasn’t even born yet.
How could they have a photograph of me holding him?
I looked at Michael.
He had gone pale.
The man noticed.
“You never told her, did you?”
Michael said nothing.
“Told me what?” I demanded.
The man smiled.
“Ask your husband why Noah’s birth certificate was changed.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
Michael turned toward me.
“Sarah…”
“Is Noah’s birth certificate fake?”
He didn’t answer.
“MICHAEL!”
He finally whispered:
“Yes.”
Noah looked at him in disbelief.
“You lied about my birth?”
“I was trying to protect you.”
“From who?”
Michael looked at the men.
“From them.”
The man with the briefcase smiled.
“Too late.”
He pulled another photograph from the folder.
This one showed Noah as a baby.
But there was something written across the bottom.
A number.
A date.
And beneath it, a name.
PROJECT ECHO.
Noah stared at the photograph.
“What is that?”
Nobody answered.
Then my father appeared in the doorway.
Victor.
He looked directly at Noah.
“It’s the reason you survived.”
Noah stepped forward.
“You know me?”
Victor nodded.
“I knew you before your mother did.”
I felt the blood drain from my face.
“What does that mean?”
Victor looked at me.
“It means Noah wasn’t an accident.”
Silence.
“He was created to carry something.”
Noah shook his head.
“I’m not carrying anything.”
Victor’s expression softened.
“You don’t remember.”
“Remember what?”
Victor pointed toward Noah’s neck.
“Look.”
Noah instinctively touched the small scar beneath his ear.
I’d always believed it came from a childhood accident.
Victor continued.
“That scar isn’t from an accident.”
Michael stepped between us.
“Enough.”
Victor ignored him.
“When Noah was born, someone placed a tiny device beneath his skin.”
My entire body went numb.
“What?”
Noah backed away.
“You put something inside me?”
Victor shook his head.
“Not me.”
“Then who?”
Victor looked at Michael.
“He knows.”
Everyone turned toward Michael.
He looked at Noah.
Tears filled his eyes.
“I was there when it happened.”
Noah’s face changed.
“You knew?”
Michael nodded.
“I knew.”
“You let them do it?”
“No.”
Michael’s voice broke.
“I tried to stop them.”
Noah stared at him.
“Then why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because if you knew, they would know you remembered.”
“Remembered what?”
Michael didn’t answer.
Victor stepped closer.
“The device isn’t the evidence.”
He pointed at Noah.
“Your memory is.”
Noah looked confused.
“What memory?”
Victor whispered:
“The night your grandmother was killed.”
The room went silent.
I stared at my son.
He had been a baby.
He couldn’t possibly remember that night.
Could he?
Then Noah suddenly grabbed his head.
His breathing became rapid.
“Mom…”
I rushed toward him.
“What is it?”
He closed his eyes.
“I remember something.”
Michael stepped forward.
“What?”
Noah looked at him.
“I remember a woman screaming.”
Victor’s face went pale.
Noah continued.
“I remember a man standing over her.”
“Who?”
Noah opened his eyes.
And pointed directly at Victor.
“You.”
Victor froze.
Michael whispered one word.
“No.”
Then the lights went out again.
A gunshot echoed through the house.
And when the emergency lights came on…
Victor was gone.
