Chapter 8 - MY FATHER WALKED OUT OF HIS OWN GRAVE
I forgot how to breathe.
Richard Hale stood beneath the loading dock light.
Older.
Thinner.
His hair almost completely gray.
But alive.
My father.
The man whose coffin I had carried.
The man whose grave I had visited before every deployment.
The man whose death had changed our family.
He stared directly at me.
“Hello, son.”
I moved before anyone could stop me.
Elena caught my arm.
“Daniel.”
“That’s my father.”
“I can see him.”
“He’s dead.”
“Apparently not.”
Richard smiled faintly.
“You always were literal.”
My hands clenched.
“You died.”
“No.”
“We buried you.”
“You buried ashes.”
“Whose?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
He sighed.
“Not tonight.”
Emily had left the ambulance.
Of course she had.
She stood behind me.
Richard saw her.
His face changed.
“Emily.”
She looked sick.
“You knew.”
He frowned.
“Knew what?”
“That they took me.”
Richard didn’t answer.
That was enough.
I stepped toward him.
Elena tightened her grip.
“You knew they kidnapped my wife.”
“I knew there was a containment problem.”
Emily recoiled.
“A what?”
I stared at him.
“My wife is a containment problem?”
“Daniel, you’re emotional.”
The sentence almost made me laugh.
“You faked your death.”
“Yes.”
“You let us mourn you.”
“Yes.”
“You watched Mom raise Caleb knowing Rachel was his mother.”
His expression shifted.
“So you found that.”
“I found Rachel in a coffin made to look like my wife.”
Richard’s face went still.
“What?”
For the first time, he looked genuinely surprised.
“You didn’t know?”
“Rachel is dead?”
“You tell me.”
He looked toward the building.
“Margaret.”
There was anger in his voice.
Real anger.
Interesting.
“You didn’t order it.”
“No.”
“Mercer?”
“I don’t know.”
“Laura?”
“Possibly.”
“Vale?”
Richard looked at me.
“Do not say that name out here.”
I stared.
“Why?”
“Because he listens.”
Elena scanned the building.
“Who listens?”
Richard looked at the cameras.
“Vale.”
I almost laughed.
“He’s eighty-something years old.”
“He’s also the most dangerous man you’ve ever met.”
“I’ve met dangerous men.”
“No.”
Richard shook his head.
“You’ve met violent men.”
“Vale doesn’t need violence.”
“He builds systems that make other people do what he wants.”
I looked at the camera.
“Where’s Thomas?”
Richard’s eyes shifted.
“He’s alive.”
Emily moved forward.
“Where?”
“Inside.”
“Take me to him.”
“I can’t.”
She slapped him.
Hard.
Everyone froze.
Richard slowly turned his face back toward her.
Emily’s hand shook.
“You held me at Christmas.”
Her voice broke.
“You told me you were proud I married Daniel.”
Richard said nothing.
“You touched my stomach when I was pregnant.”
“You knew what this place was.”
“Yes.”
“You knew what they were doing.”
“Yes.”
“And you let them take my baby.”
His eyes dropped.
“I tried to stop Laura.”
“You failed.”
“Yes.”
“Then help us.”
Richard looked toward the camera.
“I am.”
A red laser dot appeared on his chest.
Elena saw it first.
“DOWN!”
She tackled him.
Glass shattered above us.
A shot cracked.
Richard hit the pavement.
Agents moved.
“Shooter!”
“Third floor!”
“North window!”
Another shot.
I grabbed Emily.
Dragged her behind an SUV.
“Stay down.”
“That was from inside.”
“I know.”
Richard crawled behind cover.
Elena joined him.
“You said Vale wanted you alive.”
Richard laughed bitterly.
“He changes his mind.”
Tactical officers moved toward the entrance.
The metal door slammed shut.
Locks engaged.
Richard looked at me.
“There’s another way in.”
“Where?”
“Old maternity wing.”
“Show us.”
“I can’t go with you.”
“Why?”
He pulled up his trouser leg.
Electronic device around his ankle.
Not a police monitor.
Medical.
“If I cross the property boundary, it injects me.”
Elena examined it.
“Injects what?”
“Enough sedative to stop my heart.”
Emily stared.
“They kept you prisoner?”
Richard smiled.
“For seven years.”
I wanted to hate him.
I still did.
But the story had shifted again.
“Why fake your death?”
“Because I tried to expose Vale.”
I stared.
“Rachel said you were part of it.”
“I was.”
His answer was immediate.
“I helped finance St. Catherine.”
“I believed the research was legitimate.”
“When I learned what Vale was actually doing, I tried to leave.”
“He wouldn’t let me.”
“So you faked your death.”
“No.”
Richard looked at the building.
“Vale did.”
“He told Margaret I was dead.”
“Mercer handled the paperwork.”
“And you?”
“I woke up here.”
The same thing that happened to Emily.
My anger changed shape.
Not forgiveness.
Understanding.
Different.
“Why didn’t you escape?”
“I tried.”
“How many times?”
“Four.”
“What happened?”
He looked at the ankle device.
“The fourth time almost killed me.”
Elena asked.
“Old maternity entrance?”
Richard pointed toward the east side.
“Behind the chapel.”
“Stairwell B.”
“Basement level two.”
“There’s a mechanical door.”
“Code?”
He looked at me.
“Your birthday.”
I almost laughed.
“Of course.”
He caught my arm before I moved.
“Daniel.”
“What?”
“If Vale speaks to you, don’t answer questions.”
“Why?”
“He already knows the answers.”
“Then why ask?”
“To measure you.”
I stared.
“Measure what?”
“Reaction time.”
“Stress response.”
“Attachment.”
“Aggression.”
“Everything.”
My stomach turned.
“You sound like Rachel.”
Richard’s face changed.
“She understood before I did.”
“Did you love her?”
The question came from Caleb.
He had arrived with the second vehicle.
Richard stared at him.
For a long time.
“Caleb.”
Caleb stood beside the ambulance.
His face was cold.
“You know who I am?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know Rachel was my mother?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know I thought Margaret gave birth to me?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know Rachel thought I died?”
Richard closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
Caleb walked toward him.
I thought he might hit him.
Instead he stopped.
“Are you my father?”
Silence.
Richard opened his eyes.
“No.”
Caleb stared.
“Emily’s records said—”
“They were altered.”
“Then who is?”
Richard looked toward the clinic.
“Vale.”
Caleb stepped backward.
“No.”
Richard’s voice softened.
“Rachel was nineteen.”
“She was a patient.”
“Vale used his own genetic material without her knowledge.”
Caleb’s face emptied.
“That would make him…”
“Your biological father.”
Nobody spoke.
I felt sick.
Then Richard looked at me.
“And possibly yours.”
My chest tightened.
“What?”
“We never found your complete file.”
“Subject R-12?”
His eyes widened.
“You know that?”
“Rachel recorded it.”
Richard looked frightened.
“Daniel.”
“What?”
“R doesn’t mean Rachel.”
“What does it mean?”
He hesitated.
“Replication.”
A speaker above the loading dock came alive.
An old man’s voice filled the parking lot.
Calm.
Educated.
Almost gentle.
“Richard.”
My father went pale.
“Jonathan.”
The voice continued.
“You always did talk too much.”
Then it addressed me.
“Daniel.”
I looked toward the camera.
“Bring me my son.”
Vale chuckled.
“Which one?”
Emily gripped my arm.
I stepped toward the speaker.
“You have Thomas.”
“Yes.”
“If you hurt him—”
“I have no interest in harming him.”
“Then release him.”
“Not yet.”
My jaw tightened.
“Why?”
“Because I have waited thirty-five years to meet you.”
“I don’t care.”
“I know.”
His voice sounded amused.
“That is one of the qualities we selected for.”
My skin crawled.
“I wasn’t selected.”
“No?”
A screen above the loading dock flickered on.
Security footage.
A hospital room.
A newborn.
A younger Margaret.
A younger Richard.
Then a man in surgical scrubs.
Jonathan Vale.
He held the baby toward the camera.
Me.
The image froze.
Text appeared beneath it.
SUBJECT R-12.
MALE.
PATERNAL SOURCE: J. VALE.
I stared at the screen.
Caleb whispered.
“No way.”
May you like
Vale’s voice returned.
“Welcome home, Daniel.”
