"Mom said my grandpa was dead."
Dad glanced at Rachel.
Rachel lowered her eyes.
"I'm sorry," he told Emma. "A lot of people have told you things that weren't true."
"Why?"
He considered the question.
Then he knelt.
"Because sometimes grown-ups become frightened and make terrible decisions."
Emma looked at him.
"Are you going to disappear too?"
Dad's eyes filled.
"No."
She continued watching him.
"Promise?"
He held out his hand.
"I promise I'll do everything I can not to."
Emma thought about that.
Then she walked forward and placed her small hand in his.
It was the first peaceful moment our family had experienced in years.
But it wouldn't last.
Because that evening, someone called my phone from an unknown number.
I answered.
A man's voice spoke.
"Cole Maddox?"
"Who is this?"
"You don't know me."
"Then why are you calling?"
"Because your father has made another mistake."
I looked toward the kitchen.
Dad was talking quietly with Caleb.
"What mistake?"
The man paused.
"Ask him what happened to Daniel Hale after he reached Canada."
Then the call ended.
I stared at the screen.
My father noticed my expression.
"What happened?"
I looked at him.
"Who was Daniel really?"
His face changed.
And in that moment, I knew we had uncovered only another layer of the truth.
The boy Marcus had spent decades searching for might not have been the innocent runaway we had imagined.
And someone had just warned me that my father knew exactly why.
My father didn't answer immediately.
He stood in the kitchen of the house where I had grown up, staring at the telephone in my hand as if he already knew what the caller had said.
Outside, the evening wind moved through the maple trees.
The kitchen clock ticked.
Emma was sitting beside Rachel, coloring in an old notebook Dana had found in a drawer. Caleb stood near the window, his arms folded across his chest.
Marcus was in police custody.
The flash drive was sitting on the table.
And the man we had buried six years earlier was alive.
Yet somehow, I had the feeling that we were still only standing at the beginning of something much worse.
"Who called you?" Dad finally asked.
"I don't know."
"What did he say?"
"He mentioned Daniel Hale."
My father's shoulders stiffened.
"He said I should ask you what happened to Daniel after he reached Canada."
Dad looked away.
I waited.
"Well?"
He walked to the sink and filled a glass of water.
His hands were trembling.
"Daniel made it to Canada," he said eventually.
"I know that."
"He stayed with his aunt for almost a year. Then he moved to Toronto."
"And?"
"He found work in a repair shop."
"Then what happened?"
Dad placed the glass down.
"Three years later, he disappeared again."
Caleb frowned.
"Disappeared?"
"Yes."
"Was he kidnapped?"
"I don't know."
"You helped him escape, Dad. You must have known what was happening."
"I knew he was unhappy. I knew he was frightened of Marcus. But I didn't know everything about his life."
I stepped closer.
"Did you ever contact him?"
"Once."
"When?"
"About eight years ago."
"What did he say?"
Dad rubbed his forehead.
"He told me he was doing well. He had a girlfriend. He was working. He wanted to forget everything that happened here."
"And you believed him?"
"I wanted to."
"That's not what I asked."
Dad looked at me.
"No. I didn't completely believe him."
I felt my patience disappearing.
"Why?"
"Because he asked me never to contact him again."
Caleb shook his head.
"That's not unusual for someone who wanted to escape his father."
"No," Dad replied. "But there was something else."
"What?"
"He asked whether Marcus had ever mentioned a little girl."
The room went silent.
I looked toward Emma.
She was still coloring, unaware that the adults around her were discussing a secret that might have been connected to her entire life.
"What little girl?" I asked.
Dad shook his head.
"I didn't know."
"Did you ask Daniel?"
"Yes."
"And?"
"He told me that if I ever discovered the answer, I should keep it away from Marcus."
I looked at Caleb.
Then Rachel.
Rachel had stopped coloring with Emma.
Her face had gone pale.
"Rachel?"
She slowly placed the pencil on the table.
"I know what he meant."
I turned toward her.
"What?"
She looked at Emma.
Then at me.
"Daniel was Emma's biological father."
For several seconds, nobody moved.
I thought I had misunderstood.
I looked at Rachel.
Then at Emma.
Then at the DNA report still lying on the table.
"That's impossible."
Rachel shook her head.
"I know what the report says."
"Emma is my daughter."
"Yes."
"Then how could Daniel be her father?"
Rachel's voice became barely audible.
"Because the DNA report wasn't testing Emma."
I stared at her.
"What?"
She pointed toward the flash drive.
"The report you opened was from another investigation. The name on the file was Emma's, but the sample belonged to someone else."