Chapter 4
I stared at the photograph until the edges blurred.
My father looked older.
His hair was gray around the temples.
A scar ran along his jaw.
But I recognized his eyes.
They were my eyes.
I had spent twenty-eight years believing he abandoned us.
Now I was looking at proof that he might have been alive.
"Where was this taken?" I asked.
Thomas pointed to a handwritten note attached to the photograph.
"Charleston, South Carolina."
"Who sent it?"
"An anonymous source."
"Then how do we know it's real?"
"We don't know everything yet," Thomas admitted. "But our investigator has confirmed the boat existed and that a man resembling your father worked at the marina."
Grandma pressed a hand against her chest.
"Michael," she whispered.
It was the first time I'd heard her say my father's name in years.
Vanessa reached for the photograph.
"Why would Dad hide from us?"
Nobody answered.
Marcus leaned back.
"Maybe he really did abandon us."
I turned on him.
"Don't."
"What? I'm asking the obvious question."
"Then ask it without deciding he's guilty."
Marcus looked away.
Thomas removed another paper.
"The marina's former owner identified him as a man called Matthew Cole."
"An alias?" I asked.
"Possibly."
"And where is he now?"
"We're trying to find out."
My heart hammered.
"Then I'm going to Charleston."
Grandma grabbed my hand.
"Daniel, please be careful."
I looked at her.
"For twenty-eight years, I thought my father didn't want us. If there's even a chance that isn't true, I have to know."
Thomas nodded.
"I'll arrange for our investigator to meet you."
Vanessa immediately stood.
"I'm coming."
I stared at her.
"Why?"
"He's my father too."
Her answer surprised me.
For a moment, I saw the little girl who used to wait by the window every Christmas.
The girl who asked whether Daddy would come home if we left cookies outside.
Then she added, "And if he's connected to the family business, we need to protect our inheritance."
The moment disappeared.
Grandma closed her eyes.
"Vanessa."
"What?"
"Your father is a human being, not a financial asset."
Vanessa looked offended.
I took the photograph.
"I'm going alone."
Marcus laughed bitterly.
"Of course. The new favorite grandson makes all the decisions."
Grandma stood.
"Enough."
Her voice was louder than I'd heard in years.
We fell silent.
"I am tired of hearing you compete over money while your father's life may have been stolen from him."
Vanessa looked down.
Marcus said nothing.
Grandma took a breath.
"Daniel, go find your father. Thomas will help you."
I nodded.
Then she turned to my siblings.
"And you two need to decide whether you want to be part of this family or merely beneficiaries of it."
Neither answered.
That afternoon, I packed a small suitcase.
Before leaving, I stopped by Grandma's house.
She was sitting at the kitchen table looking at an old family album.
There was a photograph of my father holding me as a baby.
He was smiling.
I stood beside her.
"Grandma, did you ever believe he was alive?"
She touched the photograph.
"Every Christmas."
My throat tightened.
"Why?"
"Because Michael promised me he would always come home."
She looked toward the window.
"He wasn't perfect, Daniel. But he loved you children more than anything."
I sat down.
"Then why didn't he?"
Tears filled her eyes.
"That's what I need you to find out."
She handed me a small blue box.
Inside was a silver watch.
The leather strap was worn.
"Your grandfather gave this to your father when he turned twenty-one."
I turned it over.
There was an engraving.
FOR MICHAEL. ALWAYS FIND YOUR WAY HOME.
I swallowed hard.
"Why are you giving me this?"
"Because if you find him, I want him to know we never stopped loving him."
I hugged her.
For the first time since Grandpa died, I felt her cry against my shoulder.
The next morning, I drove south.
Thomas had arranged for me to meet a private investigator named Olivia Grant.
She was waiting at a diner near the Charleston waterfront.
She looked about forty, with sharp eyes and a practical manner.
"You must be Daniel."
"That's me."
She slid a folder across the table.
"I found something."
Inside were employment records and two photographs.
The man in both looked like my father.
"Matthew Cole worked at Harbor Point Marina between 2016 and 2021," Olivia explained. "Before that, there are almost no records."
"Where did he go?"
"He left after receiving a visitor."
"Who?"
She placed another photograph on the table.
Richard Bennett.
My stomach dropped.
"You're sure?"
"The marina owner remembered him. Expensive suit, black car, angry conversation."
"What happened afterward?"
"Matthew quit that evening."
I leaned forward.
"Did Richard threaten him?"
"We don't know."
Olivia hesitated.
"But an employee overheard something."
"What?"
"Matthew told Bennett that he wasn't going to sign anything."
I felt cold.
"Sign what?"
"That's what we're trying to establish."
She turned another page.
"Three months ago, someone matching Matthew's description was seen working at a repair shop outside Savannah."
I stood immediately.
"Then let's go."
Olivia raised a hand.
"Daniel, there's something you need to understand."
"What?"
"If this man is your father, he may have had good reasons to avoid being found."
I looked at the photograph.
"I just want to talk to him."
She nodded slowly.
"Then we'll approach carefully."
We reached the repair shop shortly before sunset.
The building stood beside a quiet highway.
Two trucks were parked outside.
A man was working beneath the hood of an old pickup.
His back was turned.
I stepped out of the car.
My heart pounded so hard it hurt.
"Excuse me," I called.
The man straightened.
He turned around.
Everything inside me stopped.
Those eyes.
That face.
Older, tired, but unmistakable.
"Dad?"
The wrench fell from his hand.
He stared at me.
His lips parted.
"Daniel?"
I took one step forward.
He took one back.
Then his eyes filled with terror.
"You shouldn't be here."
I froze.
"Dad, it's me."
"I know who you are."
He looked toward the highway.
Then he grabbed my shoulders.
"Listen to me carefully, son."
His hands were shaking.
"Richard Bennett doesn't just want the company."
I couldn't speak.
My father leaned closer.
"He wants the evidence I took the night I disappeared."
"What evidence?"
He looked over my shoulder.
A black SUV had stopped across the road.
His face went white.
"Daniel," he whispered, "get in your car."
"Why?"
May you like
He pulled me toward the repair shop.
"Because the men who tried to kill me twenty-eight years ago just found us."
