For several seconds, nobody in the records room breathed.
I kept staring at the photograph on Thomas's phone.
The young man stood behind me in the reflection, half turned toward the glass. He had the same dark eyes I saw every morning in the mirror. The same narrow bridge of the nose. Even the slight bend in his left eyebrow looked familiar.
But he was older than the child in Ruth's photograph.
Old enough to remember me.
Old enough to know exactly what had been taken from him.
"That's Jonah," Thomas said.
My hand tightened around the phone.
"I know."
"No," he said quietly. "You don't."
I looked at him.
He seemed to choose every word before allowing it out.
"The photograph was taken six minutes ago."
I turned toward the records-room window.
The corridor outside was empty.
The young man was gone.
Daniel moved first. He opened the door and looked both ways.
"He's gone."
Marcus followed him.
Ruth stayed beside me.
I couldn't stop looking at the photograph.
"Why does he look like me?"
Ruth answered softly.
"Because you're twins."
"I know that."
"No," she said. "I mean something else."
She touched the photograph with one finger.
"Jonah wasn't simply raised separately. He was deliberately kept away from you because people would recognize the resemblance."
I looked at Thomas.
"People like Edward?"
Thomas nodded.
"Edward believed Jonah was evidence."
"Evidence of what?"
"Of the money."
The answer seemed too small for everything we had uncovered.
Thomas explained that Jonah's biological father had not been Edward after all. Edward had been involved, but the earlier recording had been incomplete enough to make the relationship sound simpler than it was.
"The man who fathered Jonah was Edward's partner," Thomas said. "A man named Victor Hale."
Marcus stopped in the doorway.
"Victor."
The name clearly meant something to him.
Thomas noticed.
"You remember him."
Marcus's face hardened.
"I remember what he did."
I looked between them.
"Who is Victor Hale?"
"A lawyer," Marcus said.
Thomas shook his head.
"More than that. He was the person who turned your grandfather's private scheme into something much larger."
I thought of the ledgers.
The false companies.
The property transfers.
The families pushed off their land.
"Where is he now?"
"Dead," Thomas said.
I almost laughed.
"Everyone involved in this seems to be dead."
"Not everyone."
He looked at the photograph again.
"Some people simply disappear."
Daniel returned from the corridor.
"We need to leave."
I turned toward him.
"You knew Jonah had my face."
Daniel looked at me.
"I knew he was your brother."
"That's not what I asked."
He hesitated.
"Yes."
"Then why did you never tell me?"
"Because every person who knew where Jonah was became a target."
"Was my mother a target?"
"Yes."
"Was my father?"
"Yes."
I looked at Thomas.
"And me?"
He answered without hesitation.
"Always."
The word landed harder than I expected.
I had spent six years believing my father's death was a tragedy.
Then I had spent one night discovering it was a lie.
Now I was beginning to understand that my entire childhood had been arranged around a threat I had never been allowed to see.
I held out the cassette.
"Who else knows about this?"
Thomas's expression tightened.
"Someone knows enough."
"That's not an answer."
"The tape contains the names of people who helped move the property records."
"And Jonah?"
"His connection to the records is more important than you realize."
I waited.
Thomas finally said, "Your grandfather used Jonah's identity to conceal one of the largest transfers."
I frowned.
"Jonah was a child."
"Exactly."
Daniel spoke from the doorway.
"The property was placed in a trust under his name."
I looked at him.
"Why?"
"Because a child's identity could be protected by guardianship laws. The people controlling the trust could move assets without drawing attention."
"So Jonah owns something?"
Thomas nodded.
"Several properties."
My stomach turned.
"Does he know?"
"He knows some of it."
"Then why is he looking for me?"
Thomas didn't answer immediately.
Ruth did.
"Because he believes your mother separated you for a reason."
I stared at her.
"She did."
"Yes. But he doesn't know the whole reason."
"What does he think?"
Ruth looked toward Thomas.
"He thinks you were chosen to inherit everything."
The room went quiet.
I understood the danger then.
If Jonah believed I had been given something that belonged to both of us, he might have spent years wondering why.
But Thomas shook his head.
"There is no inheritance."
"Then what is there?"
"The original ledger."
I remembered the hidden room.
The files.
The missing records.
The tape.
"You have it?"
Thomas nodded.
"Not anymore."
"Who has it?"
"Jonah."
I stared at him.
The photograph suddenly felt different.
He hadn't merely been watching us.
He had been looking for the ledger.
And he had known where to find us.
A phone vibrated.
This time it was mine.
Unknown number.
I answered.
Nobody spoke.
Then I heard breathing.
A young man's voice finally came through.
"You found Dad."
I couldn't speak.
"Did he tell you why he lied?"
I looked at Thomas.
"Who are you?"
A pause.
"You know who I am."
My throat tightened.
"Jonah."
"Yes."
His voice sounded nothing like mine.
It was warmer.
Rougher.
Older.
"Where are you?"
"Close."
Thomas reached for the phone.
I moved away.
Jonah said, "Don't let him take the tape."
"Why?"
"Because it's not the only copy."
The call ended.
I looked at Thomas.
He was staring at the floor.
"What does he mean?"
Thomas didn't answer.
Marcus suddenly swore.
Everyone turned.
He was holding an old envelope.
He had found it beneath the records cabinet.
Across the front, in my mother's handwriting, were two words:
*SECOND COPY.**
Click here to continue reading: PART 10: My Mother Had Made a Second Copy of the Recording, and the First Person It Named Was Standing Beside Me
The Night I Pretended to Sleep While My Uncle Whispered a Name I Had Never Heard Before
Part 9 of 20
