PART FIVE — THE TRUTH
I couldn’t breathe.
The photograph of Noah was in the stranger’s hand.
My little boy was smiling in it.
It looked like an ordinary family photograph.
Except I had never seen it before.
“Where did you get that?”
The stranger didn’t answer.
Caleb stepped forward.
“Nobody wants to hurt Noah.”
“Then leave him alone.”
“We can’t.”
“Why?”
Caleb looked down.
For the first time, his confidence disappeared.
“Because Noah is the reason they chose you.”
I stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
He hesitated.
Then he said,
“Your father.”
My heart stopped.
“My father?”
Caleb nodded.
“There was something your father took before he died.”
“What?”
“A list.”
I stared at him.
“What list?”
He looked toward the hidden compartment.
“The names of people who were never supposed to exist.”
I thought about my father.
He had always been secretive.
He rarely talked about his work.
When I was a child, he told me some things were safer left forgotten.
I had assumed he meant family problems.
I was wrong.
Caleb continued.
“Your father discovered a network that moved people across borders using stolen identities.”
“The passports.”
“Yes.”
“Mine?”
“Your family’s identities were part of the system.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“The people downstairs aren’t trying to kill you.”
“Then what do they want?”
“The list.”
I looked at the folder.
“You think I have it?”
Caleb nodded.
“You were the only person your father trusted.”
I whispered,
“I don’t have any list.”
Caleb looked at me.
“Not consciously.”
Then I remembered something.
A box.
An old box in the attic.
My father’s handwriting was on it.
I hadn’t opened it in years.
I ran toward it.
Caleb didn’t stop me.
I opened the box.
Inside were old photographs, letters, and a small envelope.
My name was written across it.
For Elise.
My hands trembled as I opened it.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
At the bottom was my father’s signature.
And above it was a list of names.
Hundreds of them.
I stared at the page.
Then I saw something else.
A second sheet.
It contained bank accounts.
Dates.
Payments.
And one name appeared again and again.
Caleb Morrison.
Except the dates were impossible.
Some of the payments had been made years before Caleb was supposedly born.
I looked at my husband.
“You weren’t Caleb.”
He lowered his eyes.
“No.”
“Who are you?”
He finally answered.
“My real name is Daniel.”
The room seemed to spin.
“Daniel?”
He nodded.
“I was placed in your life to find your father’s list.”
I felt tears fill my eyes.
“Seven years.”
“I know.”
“You married me because of this?”
“At first.”
I stared at him.
“At first?”
His eyes filled with something I had never seen before.
Regret.
“Then I fell in love with you.”
I laughed bitterly.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No.”
He looked at the floor.
“But it’s the truth.”
The stranger stepped forward.
“Enough.”
He reached for the folder.
I pulled it away.
“No.”
He stopped.
Then my phone rang.
Mara.
I answered.
Her voice was shaking.
“Elise, listen to me.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
“What?”
Mara took a breath.
“The people with Caleb aren’t the people you should fear.”
I looked at the stranger.
Then at Caleb.
Mara whispered,
“The FBI has been trying to find them for eleven years.”
