Chapter 2 - THE MAN OUTSIDE
Margaret was the first to move.
She ran.
“Margaret!”
Thomas came after her.
Emily followed.
The gray-haired man saw them rushing toward the entrance and immediately stepped away from the window.
By the time Margaret shoved through the glass doors, he was already walking toward the black sedan.
“Wait!”
He stopped.
Slowly, he turned.
He had a long scar running from his left ear to the corner of his mouth.
Up close, Margaret knew she had seen him before.
Not recently.
A long time ago.
“You were at the hospital,” she said.
The man’s eyes settled on Thomas.
“I was.”
Thomas’s face became stone.
“Get away from my wife.”
The stranger laughed once.
No humor in it.
“Your wife?”
Thomas stepped closer.
“I’m warning you.”
“You warned me twenty-two years ago.”
Emily came through the doors.
“What is going on?”
The stranger looked at her.
His expression broke.
For one second, he looked almost relieved.
“You have her eyes.”
Emily froze.
Margaret took the photograph from his hand.
“Who are you?”
“Daniel Mercer.”
Thomas grabbed Margaret’s arm.
“We’re done here.”
Daniel’s eyes narrowed.
“You should’ve gone to prison, Tom.”
Emily stared at Thomas.
Margaret pulled free.
“For what?”
Thomas said nothing.
Daniel did.
“For stealing a newborn child.”
The world seemed to tilt.
Cars passed on the street.
People walked by.
Somebody laughed half a block away.
Margaret heard all of it as if she were underwater.
“No,” she said.
Daniel looked at her.
“I’m sorry.”
“Who are you?”
“I was a paramedic that night.”
“The fire?”
“Yes.”
Thomas suddenly stepped between them.
“He’s lying.”
Daniel didn’t blink.
“Ask him why the hospital nursery door was locked from the outside.”
Margaret turned.
Thomas’s mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
“Ask him why I saw him carrying a child through the loading dock ten minutes before the fire reached the maternity wing.”
Margaret whispered, “Thomas?”
“He’s crazy.”
Daniel pulled a folded envelope from inside his coat.
“I kept quiet because they threatened my family.”
“They?” Emily asked.
Daniel looked at her.
“The Ashfords.”
Margaret slapped Thomas.
The sound cracked across the sidewalk.
For the first time in thirty years of marriage, Thomas looked at his wife with hatred.
Not shock.
Not hurt.
Hatred.
“You have no idea what you’re doing,” he said.
Margaret’s voice broke.
“Did you take my daughter?”
Thomas leaned close.
“You want the truth?”
“Yes.”
“You couldn’t survive the truth.”
Then Daniel shouted.
“Emily, get down!”
A gunshot exploded.
The restaurant window shattered.
Margaret screamed.
Daniel tackled Emily to the pavement.
People scattered.
Thomas ran toward the street.
Not away from the shooter.
Toward him.
Margaret looked up just in time to see a motorcycle tear around the corner.
The rider wore a black helmet.
Thomas shouted something.
The rider slowed.
May you like
Thomas reached into his jacket.
And handed the shooter an envelope.
