Chapter 9 - THE THIRD PERSON
Ryan called Detective Marcus Hale, the officer now assigned to the stalking complaint.
Hale took the note seriously.
“Your father denies sending it?”
“Yes.”
“Do you believe him?”
“I don't know.”
“Good answer.”
Hale arranged to collect the note and requested additional building-camera footage.
Ryan told neither parent where he was going next.
Linda's garage.
He waited until she was at work.
Ryan still had a remote from when he'd lived at home.
The garage door rose.
Inside were the usual things.
Gardening supplies.
Old Christmas decorations.
A bicycle.
Storage boxes.
Nothing mysterious.
Ryan nearly left.
Then he noticed the shelving unit against the rear wall.
One section had recently been moved.
The dust line on the concrete showed it.
Ryan pushed it aside.
Behind it was a narrow door.
He had never noticed it.
Locked.
Ryan called Linda.
No answer.
He could have stopped.
He didn't.
A screwdriver and ten minutes later, the cheap interior lock gave way.
The small room behind it wasn't a room.
It was storage.
Old files.
Photographs.
Bank statements.
Court documents.
Newspaper clippings.
Ryan's missing-person flyer.
Hundreds of pages documenting Evan's attempts to locate them.
But there was something else.
A stack of folders labeled with names Ryan recognized.
His elementary-school principal.
A college roommate.
His first girlfriend.
His manager at work.
Linda had been keeping records.
Not just on Evan.
On everyone around Ryan.
He opened another folder.
Inside were screenshots of social-media accounts belonging to people Ryan had dated.
Background-check printouts.
Addresses.
Employment histories.
Ryan felt sick.
Linda hadn't simply tracked his location.
She had investigated his life.
Then Ryan found one folder without a person's name.
It was labeled:
MERCER CONTACTS.
Inside was a photograph of a woman.
Early forties.
Blonde.
Ryan recognized her.
Not personally.
From his building.
He had seen her walking a small terrier near the lobby.
The name beneath the photograph was:
SARAH MERCER.
Evan had never mentioned a Sarah.
Ryan called him immediately.
“Who is Sarah Mercer?”
Silence.
“Evan?”
“Where did you hear that name?”
Again.
The same reaction Linda had given when Ryan first mentioned Evan.
Ryan almost laughed.
“Apparently secrecy runs in the family.”
“Ryan, Sarah is my sister.”
“My aunt.”
“Yes.”
“Does she live downtown?”
Another pause.
“Yes.”
Ryan's stomach dropped.
“Near my apartment?”
“I don't know her exact address.”
“You're lying.”
“I haven't spoken to Sarah in years.”
Ryan looked again at the photograph.
“You've been searching for me seventeen years, and your sister just happens to live in the same neighborhood?”
“I didn't know that until recently.”
“How recently?”
Evan said nothing.
Ryan understood.
“You found me through her.”
“No.”
“Then how?”
“Ryan—”
“How did you find me?”
Evan exhaled.
“Sarah called me.”
Ryan stared at the folder.
“Why?”
“Because she recognized you.”
The garage suddenly felt much colder.
“Recognized me from where?”
“At your apartment building.”
Ryan looked at Sarah's picture again.
The woman he'd passed in the lobby.
The woman who had smiled at him twice.
The woman who had been living close enough to watch him come and go.
Evan continued.
“She saw your name on a package in the mailroom.”
Ryan slowly turned toward the open garage.
“And you never thought to mention that your sister lives in my building?”
“I told Sarah to stay out of it.”
“But did she?”
May you like
Evan didn't answer.
Ryan already knew.
