I didn’t handle that well at all.
Chris watched Michael talk on his phone. He didn’t know what to do. When he’d seen Michael on the sidewalk as he drove through town, he’d simply reacted. He’d known he had to reveal himself to Michael and Jamie. That’s why he’d come back to town. Once he’d seen on TV that Jamie was safe, and that she’d linked up with his brother, he knew he had to make contact.
He was sick of hiding. And running.
Did the Ghostman have Jamie?
He closed his eyes. All the stress that had vanished after seeing her alive on TV came roaring back. One of his worst nightmares had just been confirmed by his brother. His brother. Chris mouthed the words. For two decades, he hadn’t let himself think or say the phrase. He’d insisted in his brain that he no longer had a brother. It was the only way he’d been able to stay sane and function in Jamie’s family. He’d had to believe he was no longer a Brody to protect them.
The Ghostman had said he’d kill Michael and his parents if they ever found out that Daniel was still alive. During his captivity, the threats had been daily. Every day in that metal hole in the ground, the Ghostman had regaled Daniel and Chris with stories about what he would do to Daniel’s family.
Daniel never understood the focus on his family. Why the obsession with his family? Why not threaten Chris’s?
When Daniel managed to escape, he took on Chris’s identity. It wasn’t hard. After two years with Chris, he knew everything about him. The only activity to do in the bunker was talk and tell stories of their families and lives. And they were both walking skeletons by the time it was over. Their eye color was similar. His hair was lighter, but hair changes color. If Chris’s parents had ever doubted that Daniel wasn’t their son, they never said a word. Sometimes you overlook inconsistencies if you want something bad enough.
He was Chris Jacobs now. He’d been Chris for almost twice as long as he’d been Daniel.
The Ghostman wasn’t out to kill Chris’s family. Daniel had planned to just pretend to be Chris until he felt like it was safe. But after he’d received the Twinkies in the hospital…
No one was safe.
It was best if he just kept his mouth shut and kept his eyes down. Everyone was safer that way. And it worked. There were a few moments when he thought he was about to blow it, but nothing ever came of it.
Jamie became his little sister. Her parents became his parents, and he grew to love them. He missed his real parents, but from what he could see in the newspapers, they were getting on with their lives. Cecilia still ran her hospital, and the senator still ran politics. And they had Michael. At least they hadn’t lost all their children.
He’d followed Michael for years. Once the Internet blossomed, he read every article under Michael’s byline. The Internet had been his savior, allowing him to keep an eye of sorts on the people he cared about. Cecilia and the senator were often in the news.
When Brian was born, Chris had wanted to tell everyone. But he couldn’t. Jamie and his parents would have wanted to see the boy. He’d have to return home, exposing himself to anyone and everyone. He never knew if the Ghostman was simply waiting for him to make an appearance. The Ghostman might have decided that it was time to eliminate the final witness. And what if the Ghostman saw he had a son?
He couldn’t let his son get onto the Ghostman’s radar.
He knew what the Ghostman did to boys. He relived it most nights.
The nightmares were less frequent now. Although they’d escalated since the bodies of the children were found. He doubted he’d had more than four hours of sleep any night since the children had been found. The nightmares were made up of old scenes and new. The new scenes were the worst because he wasn’t the boy in the Ghostman’s grip; the boy was Brian.
Eight months ago, he’d read about a ten-year-old boy who’d been attacked in a fast-food restroom. It was a single restroom where the main door locks. The father had tried to beat the door down when he heard his son screaming inside. A manager had to unlock the door. The boy went to the hospital, needing surgery for his stab wounds. The attacker had been a sexual predator, released early from prison for previous sexual crimes.
Chris had thrown up. And never let his son enter a public bathroom without a look-see first.
The attacked boy’s physical wounds would heal; the emotional wounds would last forever.
How was he going to make Michael understand?
Michael glanced at him as he talked on his cell phone. Over and over. Chris was doing the same. Studying the face, the bone structure, the hair, the mannerisms. The way his brother tipped his head, and his gaze darted about. Exactly like Brian does.
He went over to his truck, the driver’s door still opened. Brian had scooted over behind the steering wheel and was solemnly watching the two men.
“Who’s that?”
“That’s Michael.”
Brian tipped his head, studying the reporter. “Do you know him?”
Chris took a deep breath. “I do. But I haven’t seen him in a long time. Michael is my brother.”
Brian’s gaze darted to his father’s, eyes searching. “I thought you only had a sister.”
Why did I ever lie to my son?
Chris took both of Brian’s hands and squeezed them, holding that serious gaze. “I should’ve told you I had a brother, too.”
“Is he angry?”
Chris nodded. “He is. There were some things I didn’t tell him. Like I didn’t tell you. It wasn’t the right thing for me to do, and now he’s angry at me. He’s not mad at you.”
“Did he know about me?”
Chris closed his eyes. The plaintive tone in Brian’s voice ripped at his heart. He’d been so wrong to keep Brian from his family. “No. You’re a surprise. A good surprise. And as soon as he’s done being mad at me, he’ll be thrilled that he has a nephew.”
“He’s my uncle.” Brian tried out the word, and looked at Michael over Chris’s shoulder. “I think he’s done being mad.”
Chris gripped Brian’s upper arms and helped him jump down out of the truck. He took the boy’s hand and turned to face Michael. Michael had finished his call and was brushing at his eyes. The anger had vanished from his demeanor; his shoulders slumped.
Chris raised his chin. “This is Brian. Your nephew.”
A slow smile crossed Michael’s face as he looked at the boy. “Hey, Brian. How’s it goin’? Did you know you look just like your dad did when he was your age?”
Brian shook his head. “Nice to meet you, Uncle Michael,” he said in his best-manners voice that Chris had taught him.
Michael froze, and his jaw dropped the slightest bit. “Aw, darn it,” he whispered as fresh tears spilled from his eyes. He reached out and roughly pulled Chris to him in a bear hug. After a few brotherly slaps on Chris’s back, he reached out and ruffled Brian’s hair.
Chris wiped at the wetness on his own face.