CHAPTER 2 – PART 2 – THE BOY HE HAD BEEN SEARCHING FOR WAS STANDING RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIM
PART 2: THE NAME HE COULDN’T FORGET
“You shouldn’t be out here.”
Those were the first words I said when I saw him stumble into the rain.
He ignored them.
“What did he call you?”
I grabbed his arm before he could fall.
“Ethan.”
His breathing changed.
“Ethan what?”
“Ethan Parker.”
For one second, hope appeared on his face.
Then it disappeared.
“Parker.”
“Yeah.”
He looked down.
I could tell the name had disappointed him, though I had no idea why.
Before I could ask, headlights swept across the parking lot.
Three black SUVs turned in almost together.
They moved far too fast for a restaurant parking lot.
Doors opened before the vehicles had fully stopped.
Men in dark suits got out.
Customers crowded against the windows inside Mason’s.
A woman stepped from the first SUV.
She looked to be in her early forties, dressed in a cream-colored business suit beneath a long black coat.
The moment she saw the stranger, she started running.
“Mr. Whitmore!”
He stared at her.
“Who are you?”
She stopped so suddenly I could see the shock on her face.
“Daniel?”
The man glanced at me and then back at her.
“Do I know you?”
“My name is Claire Morgan.”
He looked blank.
“I’m your attorney.”
“My attorney?”
Claire moved slowly toward him.
“Your name is Daniel Whitmore.”
The stranger repeated it as if testing the words.
“Daniel Whitmore.”
I stepped backward.
Everybody in Ohio seemed to know that name.
Whitmore Logistics trucks were everywhere.
The company had distribution centers across the state.
I’d seen Daniel Whitmore interviewed on television once after his company donated supplies during a winter storm.
I hadn’t recognized him because the man on television wore tailored suits and looked controlled, confident, untouchable.
The man standing beside me looked like he’d barely survived something.
Inside the restaurant, Travis obviously recognized the name too.
He rushed outside.
“Mr. Whitmore!”
Daniel looked toward him.
Travis’s entire personality transformed.
His shoulders straightened.
His face softened.
His voice changed.
“Sir, I had no idea who you were.”
I stared at him.
Travis continued.
“If we’d known—”
Daniel’s expression sharpened.
“If you’d known I was wealthy, you would’ve treated me differently?”
Travis froze.
“That’s not what I meant.”
Daniel looked at me.
“This boy treated me like a human being before he knew my name.”
Travis said nothing.
Neither did anyone behind the windows.
Sirens approached.
Claire had apparently called for medical help before arriving.
An ambulance pulled into the parking lot.
Two paramedics examined Daniel beneath the awning.
One shined a light in his eyes.
Another checked the wound at his temple.
Claire explained that Daniel’s car had been found several miles away after running off a rain-slick road and striking a barrier.
The paramedic told him he likely had a concussion.
Daniel resisted going with them.
Then he looked at me.
“I’m not leaving yet.”
Claire followed his gaze.
“Ethan, right?”
I nodded.
Daniel stepped closer.
He lifted his hand toward my face, then stopped.
His eyes fixed on something behind my left ear.
“Turn your head.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“Please.”
Something in his voice made me obey.
I turned slightly.
His fingers brushed the skin behind my ear.
Then his hand dropped.
His entire body went still.
“Where did you get that?”
I touched the spot.
There was a pale crescent-shaped birthmark behind my left ear.
“I’ve always had it.”
Daniel stared at me.
“Always?”
“I was born with it.”
He took a step backward.
“No.”
Claire moved beside him.
“Daniel?”
He didn’t look at her.
“My son had that mark.”
I stared at him.
“Your son?”
Daniel’s breathing became uneven again.
Claire placed one hand on his arm.
“Daniel, you have a head injury.”
But he kept looking at me.
“He was taken from us.”
“When?”
His voice broke.
“Fourteen years ago.”
Cold moved through me despite the rain-soaked hoodie clinging to my back.
“How old was he?”
“One.”
I heard the rain.
I heard the ambulance engine.
I heard customers whispering behind the glass.
But all of those sounds seemed far away.
I swallowed.
“What was his name?”
Daniel looked straight into my eyes.
“Christopher.”
I shook my head immediately.
“My name is Ethan.”
“I know.”
“My mother’s Linda Parker.”
“I understand.”
“I’m not Christopher.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, he looked ashamed.
“I’m not saying you are.”
But he was thinking it.
I could see it.
So could Claire.
One of the paramedics finally insisted they had to leave.
Daniel climbed into the ambulance.
Just before the doors closed, he looked at Claire.
“Find out everything you can about Ethan Parker.”
My stomach tightened.
I heard every word.
So did Travis.
And, though I didn’t know it yet, so did a man sitting alone near the back wall inside Mason’s Family Grill.
The ambulance pulled away.
Claire stayed long enough to ask for my phone number.
I almost refused.
Then I gave it to her.
Travis never apologized.
He stood beneath the awning with his hands in his pockets and watched me with an expression I couldn’t understand.
It wasn’t embarrassment.
It wasn’t anger.
It looked like fear.
I started walking home.
The rain had become lighter, but my thoughts were louder than ever.
Christopher.
One year old.
Fourteen years ago.
Birthmark.
Gray-blue eyes.
I told myself it was coincidence.
It had to be.
Linda was my mother.
She had raised me.
She had packed my lunches.
She had stayed beside my bed when I had pneumonia in fourth grade.
She had taught me to ride a bike.
She had cried harder than I did when I broke my wrist.
People didn’t just wake up at fifteen and discover they had belonged to another family.
That happened in movies.
It didn’t happen to people walking home from a diner in wet sneakers.
I was halfway home when my phone vibrated.
It was Linda.
“Where are you?”
Her voice sounded strange.
“I got fired.”
“What?”
“I’ll explain when I get home.”
There was silence.
Then she asked something that stopped me in the middle of the sidewalk.
“Did you talk to Daniel Whitmore?”
I said nothing.
Rainwater ran down my forehead.
“How do you know his name?”
Linda didn’t answer.
“Mom?”
“Just come home.”
“How did you know I met him?”
“Ethan, please.”
My pulse began pounding.
“Did someone call you?”
“Come home.”
The line went dead.
I stared at my phone.
For the first time that night, I was truly afraid.
I didn’t know that back at Mason’s, the man who had been sitting near the wall was making a call of his own.
He watched me leave through the window.
“We have a problem.”
The voice on the other end asked what happened.
“Whitmore saw the boy.”
There was a long silence.
Then the voice asked if he was sure.
The man said yes.
Another pause followed.
Then came the sentence I wouldn’t learn about until much later.
“Before Whitmore remembers everything, make sure the boy disappears again.”
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