CHAPTER 6 — THE MAN WHO WASN'T DEAD
CHAPTER 6 — THE MAN WHO WASN'T DEAD
At sunrise, the investigation changed forever.
Every agent in the command center was ordered to surrender their phones.
No one trusted anyone.
Not anymore.
If someone inside the FBI had protected Daniel...
...then nowhere was truly safe.
Brooks personally moved Sarah and me into a classified safe house.
The address wasn't written down.
Only four people knew where we were.
Or so we believed.
Late that afternoon, Brooks arrived carrying another file.
Her face was pale.
"I've received authorization to show you something."
She placed an old photograph on the table.
It showed my father.
Standing beside another man.
I leaned closer.
My breath caught.
The second man looked almost identical to Daniel.
Same eyes.
Same jawline.
Only older.
"Who is he?"
Brooks answered quietly.
"Victor Cross."
"Daniel's father."
"What?"
"The founder of the Phoenix Organization."
I stared at the picture.
Then noticed something else.
My father wasn't standing beside Victor as enemies.
They were smiling.
Like old friends.
"No..."
"This can't be real."
Brooks nodded.
"We authenticated the photograph."
Everything I believed began collapsing again.
Just then, Sarah remembered something.
"Maya."
"What?"
"Your father used to receive Christmas cards signed only with a phoenix."
I froze.
I remembered.
Every year.
A gold phoenix embossed in wax.
No sender.
My father would always burn the card without opening it in front of me.
I had thought it was some strange business tradition.
Now...
It looked like a warning.
Or a partnership.
Before anyone could speak again, the safe house alarm sounded.
One short beep.
Then another.
Motion detected.
Outside.
Brooks drew her pistol.
"Stay behind me."
Agents surrounded the windows.
A black sedan had stopped across the street.
One elderly man stepped out.
Gray suit.
White hair.
Walking cane.
He raised both hands.
"I'm unarmed."
Brooks shouted through a speaker.
"Identify yourself!"
The old man smiled sadly.
"I've been waiting twenty years to meet Maya Bennett."
My heart skipped.
"I knew her father."
Brooks didn't move.
"State your name."
The old man looked directly at me through the window.
"My name..."
"...is Jonathan Bennett."
The world tilted.
That was impossible.
Jonathan Bennett was my father's name.
The name engraved on his gravestone.
The old man slowly removed his glasses.
Tears filled his eyes.
Then he spoke the words that shattered everything once again.
"Hello, sweetheart."
May you like
"I'm sorry..."
"...it took me twenty years to come home."
