Chapter 6: The Brother
For several seconds, I couldn't understand the words.
My brother.
The phrase sounded wrong.
My father had never said brother.
He had said mistake.
He had said weak.
He had said you were lucky we kept you.
But never brother.
I stared at the photograph Naomi had placed on the table.
The boy looked seventeen.
Dark hair.
Sharp jaw.
Eyes that looked frighteningly familiar.
He wasn't smiling.
Behind him was a brick building with a blue sign.
*St. Matthew's Youth Residence.*
I reached for the photograph.
My father moved first.
“Don't.””
Naomi stepped between us.
“Richard, sit down.””
“This is a family matter.””
“No,” Naomi said.
“It stopped being a family matter twenty years ago.””
My hand trembled around the photograph.
“What's his name?””
Dad didn't answer.
“What's his name?””
Mom started crying.
Vanessa whispered it.
“Michael.””
I looked at her.
“Michael what?””
“Brooks.””
I stared at the photograph again.
“Michael Brooks.””
Vanessa nodded.
“He was our half brother.””
I looked at Dad.
“Our?””
He swallowed.
“Your mother had him before we met.””
Mom closed her eyes.
“You told me he died.””
The words came out of my mouth before I knew I was going to say them.
Mom looked at me.
“I know.””
“You told me he died.””
“I was told he was dead.””
“By who?””
She looked at Dad.
That was enough.
I turned toward him.
“You told her he died?””
Dad's jaw tightened.
“There were circumstances.””
“What circumstances?””
“He was troubled.””
Naomi's voice cut through the room.
“He was seventeen.””
Dad glared at her.
“He had behavioral problems.””
I laughed once.
“You sent him away.””
“He needed help.””
“You sent him to a youth residence.””
“He needed structure.””
“And then?””
Silence.
Naomi opened another document.
“Michael Brooks entered St. Matthew's on March 4.””
She turned the page.
“He left on October 12.””
Another page.
“Three days later, his file was marked voluntary discharge.””
I stared at the document.
“Where did he go?””
Naomi looked at me.
“We don't know.””
My father suddenly spoke.
“He ran away.””
“Just like I did?””
His face hardened.
“You were never supposed to run.””
I felt the words hit me.
“What does that mean?””
Dad didn't answer.
Vanessa whispered, “Ethan…”
I turned toward her.
“What does that mean?””
She wiped her eyes.
“Dad wanted you to disappear.””
My mother gasped.
“Vanessa!””
“You already know.””
“I said enough!””
“No,” Vanessa shouted.
“You've said enough for twenty years!””
The room fell silent.
Vanessa looked at me.
“Dad found out Michael had been asking questions.””
“What questions?””
“About the foundation.””
I looked at Naomi.
She was already taking notes.
“What did Michael find?””
Vanessa shook her head.
“I don't know everything.””
“Then tell me what you know.””
She looked toward the locked ballroom doors.
“Michael found names.””
“Whose names?””
“Children.””
The air seemed to leave my lungs.
“Children from the foundation?””
She nodded.
“He said some of them weren't where the records said they were.””
Naomi's eyes sharpened.
“Did he tell you that?””
“Yes.””
“When?””
“The week before he disappeared.””
I looked at my father.
“You knew.””
He stared at the floor.
“You knew.””
Dad finally looked at me.
“I was trying to protect the family.””
I stepped closer.
“From what?””
“Scandal.””
“No.””
I shook my head.
“You weren't protecting the family.””
I held up the photograph.
“You were protecting yourself.””
A man near the front of the ballroom spoke.
“My daughter received a scholarship from this foundation.””
Another woman said, “Mine did too.””
The crowd began murmuring.
My father raised his voice.
“This is an outrageous accusation.””
Naomi turned toward the guests.
“No accusation has been made tonight that isn't supported by evidence.””
She lifted the sealed folder.
“And we have more.””
A foundation board member approached my father.
“Richard, what is happening?””
Dad didn't answer.
The board member looked at me.
“Who are you?””
I looked at him.
“I'm the son your chairman abandoned at a train station.””
His face went pale.
“And apparently,” I added, “I'm not the only one.””
Suddenly, the ballroom doors opened.
Two federal agents walked inside.
Behind them was a woman in a gray coat.
She carried a warrant.
My father stared.
“No.””
The woman approached Naomi.
“Ellis.””
Naomi nodded.
“Agent Mercer.””
The agent turned toward my father.
“Richard Brooks, we have a federal warrant authorizing seizure of financial records, foundation communications, and archived case files.””
Vanessa covered her mouth.
Mom sat down.
My father looked at me.
“You did this.””
I held his gaze.
“No.””
I looked at the photograph of Michael.
“I think Michael did.””
The agent motioned toward the doors.
“Mr. Brooks, where is your son?””
My father's face changed.
For the first time that night, he looked genuinely terrified.
Not because of the agents.
Not because of the warrant.
Because someone had asked him a question he couldn't control.
“I don't know.””
Agent Mercer studied him.
“That's interesting.””
She opened a folder.
“Because we just found a storage unit registered under the foundation.””
She looked at Naomi.
“And someone has been paying the rent every month for twenty years.””
I stared at her.
“What's inside?””
Agent Mercer looked directly at me.
“That's what we're about to find out.””
Then her phone rang.
She answered.
Her expression changed.
“Say that again.””
Silence.
“Are you certain?””
She looked at me.
May you like
Then at my father.
“We found a second file.””
