Chapter 6 - THE MAN WHO NEVER CAME HOME
For nine years, I believed my father had abandoned us.
Now I was learning he might have been hidden somewhere under another name.
I stared at the screen.
"Is he alive?"
Detective Mitchell looked at me.
"We don't know yet."
My stomach tightened.
"But the record says admitted."
"Yes. We need to verify the facility and the identity used."
I nodded.
I wanted answers.
But I didn't want hope built on a document that might be false.
That afternoon, investigators contacted Northlake Recovery Center.
The facility had closed five years earlier.
Its records had been transferred to a healthcare archive.
Some were incomplete.
Others required legal authorization to review.
I spent the next two days barely sleeping.
Danny tried to distract me.
He made coffee.
Cooked dinner.
And insisted I sit beside him while he watched a comedy show with captions.
But every time my phone vibrated, my heart stopped.
Finally, Detective Mitchell called.
"Lily, we found a patient record."
I gripped the phone.
"What name?"
"Martin Bell."
I stared.
"That's not Dad."
"His listed date of birth matches Michael's."
My knees weakened.
"And the photograph?"
"We're working on obtaining it."
I closed my eyes.
Then she continued.
"The record indicates he received treatment after a serious head injury."
My stomach tightened.
"Was he conscious?"
"At admission, yes."
I began crying.
For years, I'd imagined Dad disappearing because he didn't love us.
Now I was learning he'd suffered an injury while hidden from his family.
"Where did he go after the facility closed?"
"We're tracing the discharge records."
I nodded.
Then asked something that had been hurting me for days.
"Did Salvatore know?"
Mitchell answered.
"We have no evidence he did."
Relief and uncertainty tangled inside me.
I wanted to trust Salvatore.
But his family had been connected to too many lies.
That evening, he asked to meet.
I agreed, with Rebecca Collins, the independent attorney I'd hired, present.
Salvatore arrived carrying a small wooden box.
He placed it on the table.
Then signed, This belonged to your father.
My heart tightened.
Inside was an old pocket watch.
Silver.
Scratched.
With the initials M. B. engraved on the back.
I recognized it immediately.
Dad used to wind it every Sunday morning.
I began crying.
"Where did you get this?"
Salvatore signed slowly.
"Michael gave it to me after the explosion."
I stared.
"Why?"
"He said if anything happened, I should give it to his children."
My throat tightened.
"Then why didn't you?"
Salvatore looked ashamed.
"Dominic told me Michael had moved overseas. He said your family didn't want contact with anyone connected to Marquette Shipping."
I closed my eyes.
Another lie.
Another man controlling information.
Salvatore continued.
"I believed him."
I looked toward the watch.
For years, I'd blamed Dad for leaving.
Now I was beginning to understand that powerful people had been deciding which parts of the truth reached us.
Then Salvatore handed me a second item.
A folded note tucked beneath the watch's velvet lining.
I opened it.
Dad's handwriting.
Lily, if Salvatore ever gives you this, tell Danny I never stopped trying to come home.
My breath caught.
Then I reached the final sentence.
The man who arranged my disappearance is someone your mother trusted.
I stared.
Our mother had died before Dad vanished.
Who could she have trusted?
Then I remembered.
May you like
Before her death, she had asked Brett Collins's mother to help our family.
And suddenly, the name Collins felt far more dangerous than I'd imagined.
