Chapter 5 - THE BROTHER BEHIND THE LIEFor one terrible moment, I thought my mother was accusing Alexander of hunting his own father.
But Charles Whitcomb shook his head.
"She means Daniel."
Alexander looked at him.
"That's impossible."
Mom folded her trembling hands.
"Miguel said Anthony had discovered that one of his sons was being manipulated by Victor Kane."
Alexander paced across the kitchen.
"Daniel was twenty-two when the attack happened. He'd been searching for our father for years."
"And someone exploited that," Charles replied.
I thought about the photograph of the scarred man.
"Where is Daniel now?"
Alexander stopped walking.
"My brother disappeared four years ago."
"What happened?"
"He was accused of stealing money from one of our shipping companies. Before investigators could question him, he vanished."
Charles looked troubled.
"Daniel never believed Anthony was dead."
Alexander turned.
"Why didn't you tell me this earlier?"
"Because I promised Anthony I wouldn't reveal his location."
"Even after Miguel was killed?"
Charles's voice cracked.
"I believed I was protecting the survivors."
I looked at him sharply.
"Your silence didn't protect my father."
He lowered his eyes.
"You're right."
For the first time, someone connected to the Ashfords had admitted the truth without making excuses.
My phone vibrated.
An unknown number had sent a photograph.
It showed Mateo walking home from school two days earlier.
Beneath it was a message.
Tell Ashford to return what his father stole.
I felt sick.
Alexander read the message.
"Marcus needs to see this."
"No!" I snapped. "I need my family safe."
"We'll involve the police and document the threat."
He looked at me steadily.
"And I'll pay for temporary relocation if your mother agrees. No conditions."
Mom covered her mouth.
I wanted to refuse.
But the photograph of Mateo wouldn't leave my mind.
By midnight, my family had moved into a secure guest apartment at the Ashford Grand.
Alexander arranged for our belongings and medication to be collected under police supervision.
For the first time in years, Mateo had a bedroom with a working air conditioner.
He stood near the window, staring at Manhattan.
"Sophia?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you think Dad knew we'd end up here?"
I smiled sadly.
"I don't know."
He reached into his backpack.
"There's something I never told you."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
"The night before Dad died, he gave me this."
He held out a small brass compass.
It was scratched and dented.
I'd seen it hanging from my father's workbench a thousand times.
Mateo opened the back.
Inside was a folded strip of paper.
Six handwritten numbers.
May you like
And one name.
Daniel Ashford.
