Chapter 14 - Twelve Words
Ethan remembered eight of the words.
That was what Evelyn had discovered.
Samuel sent audio clips every hour.
“Blue.”
“Lighthouse.”
“Winter.”
“Seven.”
“Home.”
“Paper.”
“River.”
“Lily.”
Andrew stopped at the last one.
Lily.
The name he and Sarah had chosen for their unborn daughter.
This was not random.
Sarah had woven pieces of their life into the code.
Rachel sat across from Andrew in an FBI command center.
“What did Sarah know that Ethan knew?”
“They met.”
Rachel nodded.
“Twice. She brought books to the clinic.”
Andrew closed his eyes.
“Did Ethan know she was pregnant?”
“Yes.”
Ethan had met Lily before Lily existed.
A strange connection through Sarah.
“We need all twelve words.”
“No,” Rachel said.
Andrew looked at her.
“If Evelyn wants them, completing the phrase might help her.”
“She already has Ethan.”
“And she won’t hurt him until she has the code.”
Andrew hated that logic.
Because it was probably true.
Owen traced transmission metadata.
Rural location southwest of Chicago.
Then another video arrived.
Ethan looked more frightened.
Samuel was pacing.
Evelyn’s voice came from off-camera.
“Tell Mr. Whitman the next word.”
Ethan whispered, “Promise.”
Andrew’s eyes filled.
Sarah’s old voicemail.
Drive carefully. Promise me.
He had said yes.
Sarah was using memories.
Andrew walked to the whiteboard.
Blue.
Lighthouse.
Winter.
Seven.
Home.
Paper.
River.
Lily.
Promise.
Three missing.
“What did Sarah say when she talked to Ethan?” Andrew asked.
Rachel thought.
“She told him stories.”
“About?”
“Her childhood. You.”
“What about me?”
Rachel almost smiled despite everything.
“She said you pretended to hate dogs but always fed strays.”
Andrew stared.
“Dog?”
“Maybe.”
Another clip arrived.
Ethan whispered:
“Storm.”
Ten.
Andrew’s pulse quickened.
The phrase might point somewhere.
Blue Lighthouse Winter Seven Home Paper River Lily Promise Storm.
Jonathan Pierce entered.
“I know one.”
Everyone turned.
“Sarah used to call Andrew ‘North.’”
Andrew frowned.
“She said when she got lost emotionally, you were north.”
Rachel’s face changed.
“North.”
Eleven.
One remained.
Then Andrew understood.
The night before Sarah died, she had left a note beside his coffee.
You are still my safest place.
“Safe.”
Rachel stood.
“Twelve.”
Owen shook his head.
“We cannot send Evelyn the full phrase.”
Andrew looked at the map.
“We won’t.”
Instead, Andrew recorded a message.
“Samuel. I have the final words. You don’t. If Ethan is hurt, the remaining phrase dies with me.”
He intentionally implied Ethan had remembered wrong.
The bait worked.
Samuel called.
“You’re lying.”
“Try me.”
“I heard him say eleven.”
“One is false.”
Silence.
Andrew continued.
“You know your mother. She’ll discard you the moment she gets what she wants.”
Samuel’s breathing changed.
“You don’t know her.”
“I know she hid you for nine years and let the world think you were dead.”
“Shut up.”
“She turned your addiction into a weapon.”
“SHUT UP.”
The call ended.
But it lasted long enough.
Owen pointed at the map.
“Got him.”
An abandoned boarding school outside Joliet.
Police moved.
Andrew stayed in the command vehicle until gunfire started.
Then an officer shouted:
“Child moving east side!”
A small figure burst through a side door.
Ethan.
Again running.
Again refusing to wait for rescue.
Andrew jumped from the vehicle.
“Ethan!”
The boy saw him.
Then Samuel appeared behind him.
Gun raised.
Everything slowed.
Andrew stepped forward.
Samuel pressed the weapon toward Ethan.
“Stop.”
Andrew stopped.
“Let him go.”
Samuel’s hand shook.
“You ruined everything.”
“No. Your mother did.”
“You don’t know what she did for me.”
“She erased you.”
Samuel’s face twisted.
“She saved me.”
“Then why are you holding a child at gunpoint for her?”
Samuel looked at Ethan.
Just for one second.
Enough.
Ethan stomped on Samuel’s foot and ducked.
Police fired.
Samuel fell.
Ethan screamed.
Andrew ran.
He reached the boy and wrapped himself around him.
“Don’t look.”
Samuel survived.
Barely.
Evelyn was not inside.
But in the abandoned school office, agents found the files she wanted.
Records showing Bright Harbor’s network had been active for twenty-three years.
And one document signed by Andrew’s father.
Andrew stared at his father’s signature.
His father had known something.
Possibly everything.
At the bottom was a handwritten note.
Evelyn cannot control this system.
Shut it down before children become inventory.
Dated three days before Andrew’s father died.
Andrew looked at Ruiz.
“My father died in a boating accident.”
Ruiz said nothing.
May you like
Neither needed to.
Andrew was beginning to understand that accidents surrounded Evelyn Dane like graves.
