PART7-I Let a Homeless Man With a Leg Brace Sleep on Our Couch for One Night—When I Came Home From Work, I Froze at What He Had Done

PART 7

I couldn’t move.

“What?”

“He wasn’t a tenant.”

“Who was he?”

“I don’t know his name.”

“Then how do you know?”

“Because I saw the file.”

“What file?”

“The same file that connects Harris to my accident.”

I gripped the phone.

“Marcus, tell me everything.”

“I can’t over the phone.”

“Then come back.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re following me.”

I looked out the window.

Snow was falling again.

“Where are you?”

He hesitated.

Then finally whispered,

“Union Station.”

“Stay there. I’m coming.”

“No, Chloe.”

But I had already grabbed my coat.

“I’m bringing Liam.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I’m not leaving my son alone.”

“Listen to me.”

His voice became urgent.

“If you leave that apartment, don’t go through the main entrance.”

I stopped.

“Why?”

“Because Harris knows you’re there.”

I looked toward the hallway.

“And if he’s watching?”

Marcus whispered:

“He won’t be watching the front door.”

A cold feeling moved through me.

“Then where?”

I heard Marcus take a breath.

“He’ll be watching the parking lot.”

The call ended.

I stood frozen.

Liam looked at me.

“Mom?”

I grabbed his coat.

“We’re going out the back.”

“But why?”

“Because we’re going to find Marcus.”

As I opened the rear stairwell door, something metallic caught the light beneath the steps.

I bent down.

It was a small black case.

I opened it.

Inside was a key.

And beneath the key was a photograph.

I picked it up.

My hands began shaking.

The photograph showed our apartment building.

But it had been taken fifteen years earlier.

Standing in front of the building were three men.

One was much younger Daniel Harris.

One was Marcus’s former supervisor.

And the third man…

was my father.

I had not seen my father in that photograph since the year he disappeared.

For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

My father.

Standing outside the same apartment building.

Fifteen years earlier.

Beside Daniel Harris.

Beside the man who had supposedly investigated the accident that destroyed Marcus’s career.

And beneath the photograph was a key.

Not an ordinary house key.

It was small, old, brass, with a number stamped into the metal.

314.

I stared at it until the number blurred.

“Mom?”

Liam’s voice pulled me back.

“What is it?”

I quickly folded the photograph and slipped it into my coat pocket.

“Nothing.”

He frowned.

“You’re crying.”

I touched my face.

I hadn’t even realized I was.

“I just remembered something.”

“What?”

“My dad.”

Liam knew about my father.

Not much.

I had always told him Grandpa Michael had been a complicated man who left when I was little.

I had never told him that my father didn’t simply leave.

He disappeared.

One morning, he went to work and never came home.

The police investigated.

They found his car three days later near a train station.

His wallet was inside.

His coat was in the back seat.

But he was gone.

No body.

No explanation.

No goodbye.

My mother spent years believing he would return.

He never did.

Eventually, everyone stopped talking about him.

Except me.

I had never stopped wondering.

Now, standing in that stairwell, I suddenly understood why my father might have been connected to this building.

And I understood something even worse.

Maybe his disappearance hadn’t been random.

“Mom, we need to go,” Liam whispered.

He was right.

I grabbed his hand.

We hurried down the back stairs.

But before we reached the ground floor, I heard footsteps above us.

Slow.

Measured.

Someone was coming down.

I froze.

Liam squeezed my hand.

“Someone’s there.”

“I know.”

The footsteps stopped.

Then started again.

Closer.

I pulled Liam into a small storage room and closed the door without making a sound.

We stood in darkness.

My son’s breathing became faster.

I covered his mouth gently.

The footsteps reached our floor.

Then stopped.

Silence.

A door opened somewhere.

Then another.

Someone was checking apartments.

My heart hammered against my ribs.

The storage room had a tiny window.

I pushed the curtain aside.

The alley was empty.

But there was a fire escape directly outside.

I whispered,

“We’re going out the window.”

Liam’s eyes widened.

“Are we in trouble?”

“Yes.”

It was the first time I had admitted it.

“But I’m going to keep you safe.”

I lifted him through the window first.

He climbed onto the fire escape.

Then I followed.

We moved down two levels.

Halfway down, I heard a door slam inside the building.

I looked up.

A man’s silhouette appeared behind the window.

Daniel Harris.

He looked directly toward the fire escape.

He saw us.

“Run!”

Liam and I raced down.

We reached the alley and ran toward the next street.

A car engine started behind us.

I grabbed Liam and pulled him behind a parked delivery truck.

A black SUV rolled slowly past the alley.

It stopped.

The driver’s window lowered.

I recognized Harris.

He looked around.

Then his eyes moved toward the delivery truck.

I stopped breathing.

Liam leaned against me.

The SUV remained there for several seconds.

Then it drove away.

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