Chapter 6 - SEVENTEEN YEARS OF LETTERS
Ryan left the envelope unopened for six hours.
At midnight, he gave in.
Inside were copies.
Birthdays.
Christmases.
First days of school Evan had never witnessed.
Letters addressed to Ryan Mercer.
Then later, when Evan apparently discovered Linda had changed the surname, letters addressed to Ryan Carter.
Some envelopes had been returned.
Some were marked address unknown.
Others appeared to have been delivered.
That distinction mattered.
Ryan separated them.
Eleven letters had no return markings.
If Evan had genuinely mailed them, somebody had received them.
Ryan remembered none.
There were also copies of missing-person flyers, private investigator invoices and yearly photographs of Evan standing beside a birthday cake.
The images disturbed Ryan more than the documents.
Every year.
Eight.
Nine.
Ten.
Fifteen.
Twenty.
Twenty-four candles on the most recent cake.
Evan had photographed all of them.
Ryan didn't know whether it was love or obsession.
Maybe both.
Near the bottom was an old voicemail transcript from 2009.
Linda had apparently submitted it during the custody dispute.
EVAN: You don't get to decide whether I see my son. He is mine too. If you take him away, I will come after you. I will find both of you. I don't care where you go.
Ryan reread it.
Come after you.
Find both of you.
He understood why Linda had been afraid.
He also understood why Evan might have meant something less sinister than Linda believed.
That was the problem.
Every piece of evidence seemed to have two interpretations.
The next morning Ryan called Linda.
“I want every letter he ever sent.”
Silence.
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
Ryan closed his eyes.
That confirmed it.
“You kept them.”
“Ryan—”
“He has copies.”
Linda didn't answer.
“I'll be there in twenty minutes.”
When Ryan entered her house, Linda was waiting beside a cardboard box.
She had finally stopped pretending.
Ryan looked at it.
“How long?”
“Some started arriving about six years after we left.”
“You said he never knew where we were.”
“He found a forwarding address connected to my old employer.”
Ryan opened the box.
Dozens of envelopes.
Most still sealed.
He picked one up.
His name was written on it.
His eighteenth birthday.
“He sent this when I was an adult.”
“Yes.”
“You hid it.”
“I didn't want him getting inside your head.”
Ryan looked at her.
“You decided what I was allowed to know.”
“I knew him.”
“You knew who he was seventeen years ago.”
“People like Evan don't change.”
“Do people like you?”
Linda stared at him.
Ryan immediately hated how cruel the question sounded.
But he didn't take it back.
At the bottom of the box was something else.
A small digital recorder.
Ryan held it up.
“What is this?”
Linda's face went pale.
The change was immediate.
Ryan noticed.
“What?”
“Put it back.”
“Why?”
“Ryan.”
He switched it on.
Static filled the room.
Then Linda's younger voice.
She was crying.
A man's voice followed.
Evan.
“If you leave with Ryan, there won't be a corner of this country I won't search.”
A pause.
Then something Ryan had never read in the court transcript.
“I will watch every person you know. Every house you enter. Every car you drive. Eventually, you'll make a mistake.”
Ryan slowly lowered the recorder.
Linda whispered, “Now do you understand?”
Ryan looked at her.
“Yes.”
Linda seemed almost relieved.
Until he continued.
“I understand why you were afraid of him.”
May you like
Her relief disappeared.
“And I understand why somebody who lived through that should know better than to put a tracker in another person's backpack.”
