Chapter 8: The Man in the Photograph
I spent the next hour staring at the photograph.
My father.
Seventeen years younger than I remembered him.
Standing beside Daniel.
Both of them looking directly at the camera.
Behind them was a building I recognized.
Not a military base.
Not a Pentagon facility.
A small brick house.
I had seen it before.
In one of my childhood photographs.
My father's safe house.
“Where is this?”” I asked.
Daniel looked at the photograph.
“Virginia.””
“Address.””
“I don't remember.””
“Then find it.””
He hesitated.
“Claire—”
“Find it.””
He began making calls.
I turned toward Ryan.
“You said Melissa told you my father wasn't dead.””
“Yes.””
“Did she know where he was?””
“I don't know.””
“Did she ever mention a place?””
Ryan thought.
“An old house.””
My blood ran cold.
“Virginia?””
He nodded.
“She said something about a house near Alexandria.””
Daniel looked up.
“That can't be coincidence.””
“No.””
I grabbed my coat.
Natalie blocked the doorway.
“Where are you going?””
“To find my father.””
“You don't know what's waiting there.””
“I've spent eighteen years walking into places where I didn't know what was waiting.””
“That's different.””
“How?””
“You're not walking in as a soldier.””
I looked at her.
“I've never stopped being one.””
Daniel stood.
“I'm coming.””
“No.””
“Claire.””
“This is personal.””
“And that's exactly why you shouldn't go alone.””
I looked at him.
“You knew my father.””
“Yes.””
“You lied about it.””
“I was following orders.””
“So was I, for eighteen years.””
His expression softened.
“I know.””
We left before sunrise.
Ryan remained behind under security supervision.
Mom and the children stayed at the mansion with two trusted officers.
The drive to Virginia was silent.
Halfway there, Daniel spoke.
“Your father recruited me.””
I looked out the window.
“For what?””
“An intelligence program.””
“Nightfall?””
“Yes.””
“What was Nightfall?””
He took a breath.
“A network.””
“Doing what?””
“Tracking threats that couldn't be officially acknowledged.””
“Domestic?””
“Sometimes.””
“Foreign?””
“Sometimes.””
“And my father?””
“He discovered someone was selling information.””
My stomach tightened.
“Inside the government?””
“Yes.””
“Who?””
“We never knew.””
“You're lying.””
He looked at me.
“I know.””
“You've spent seventeen years lying to me.””
“I spent seventeen years keeping you alive.””
I turned toward him.
“By letting me believe my father was dead?””
“Yes.””
“By allowing me to walk into the Army blind?””
“You weren't blind.””
“I was missing half the map.””
Daniel looked away.
“Your father wanted you out.””
“Out of what?””
“The program.””
I laughed bitterly.
“And I became a colonel.””
“I know.””
“You must have known I'd eventually become involved.””
“We hoped you wouldn't.””
“We?””
He said nothing.
The house appeared just after seven.
Small.
Quiet.
Ordinary.
That made it worse.
I stepped out.
The front door was unlocked.
Daniel stopped me.
“Wait.””
I drew my weapon.
He stared at me.
“You came prepared.””
“I always do.””
We entered.
Dust covered the furniture.
But someone had been there recently.
A coffee cup sat on the kitchen counter.
Still wet inside.
Daniel moved through the hallway.
“Clear.””
I entered the study.
There was a desk.
A bookshelf.
A photograph.
I picked it up.
My father.
My mother.
Me.
I was six years old.
On the back, handwriting.
*Claire—if you ever find this, forgive me.*
My hands shook.
Then I noticed a hidden compartment beneath the desk.
Inside was a cassette recorder.
And a key.
Daniel stared.
“That key…”
“What?””
“I've seen it.””
“Where?””
“Your father's office.””
I pressed the recorder.
Static.
Then a man's voice.
My father's.
“Claire, if you're hearing this, I failed.””
I stopped breathing.
His voice continued.
“You were never supposed to know about Nightfall.””
I looked at Daniel.
The recording crackled.
“Someone betrayed us.””
A pause.
“I don't know who.””
Then:
“But I know they will come for you.””
My eyes burned.
“If you're a colonel now, then you have already walked too close to the truth.””
The tape clicked.
“Do not trust anyone who says they protected you.””
Daniel looked at me.
The recording continued.
“Especially not Daniel.””
The tape stopped.
Silence.
I slowly turned toward him.
He looked devastated.
“Claire…”
“You told me you protected me.””
“I did.””
“My father told me not to trust you.””
“He had reasons.””
“What reasons?””
Daniel shook his head.
“I can't tell you here.””
“Then tell me somewhere else.””
He looked toward the window.
His expression changed.
“Get down.””
I dropped.
A gunshot shattered the glass.
Daniel tackled me to the floor.
Another shot.
Then silence.
I crawled toward the wall.
“Shooter?””
“Gone.””
I checked the window.
No one.
Then my phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
One message.
*NOW YOU KNOW WHY YOUR MOTHER WAS NEVER SAFE.*
Another followed.
*AND WHY RYAN WAS SO EASY TO USE.*
I stared at the screen.
Then a final message arrived.
*YOUR FATHER IS ALIVE.*
May you like
My breath caught.
*HE'S BEEN WATCHING YOU FOR YEARS.*
