Bear had been trying not to.
The eyes.
Not shape exactly.
Expression.
Michael used to look at strangers carefully before deciding whether to trust them.
Lily did the same.
Bear sat on the porch step.
“Six years.”
Dave lowered himself beside him.
Bear stared at the street.
“I hated him for dying.”
Dave said nothing.
“I know how stupid that sounds.”
“No.”
“He disappeared after our fight. Then the call came. I spent years thinking his last memory of me was telling him never to come back.”
“What was the fight about?”
Bear laughed bitterly.
“Money.”
Of course.
Michael had borrowed from their mother before she died.
Bear found out later.
They argued.
Michael accused Bear of acting like the family patriarch.
Bear accused Michael of destroying everything he touched.
Michael said, “Then maybe I should disappear.”
Bear replied, “Maybe you should.”
Three months later, he did.
Bear had replayed those words thousands of times.
Now Michael had apparently spent years alive somewhere, unable or unwilling to contact him.
Dave said, “Maybe you get another chance.”
Bear looked at him.
“If he’s alive.”
Neither man said anything after that.
At 2:13 the next morning, Bear woke to glass breaking.
He moved before full consciousness.
Gun from bedside drawer.
Hallway.
Lily’s room first.
She sat upright.
“Bear?”
“Stay down.”
Another sound.
Not window.
Outside.
Metal.
Bear checked the camera feed.
A figure stood beside his detached garage.
Hood up.
Backpack.
Bear called 911.
Then Dave.
Dave answered on the first ring.
“You breathing?”
“Somebody’s outside.”
“Three minutes.”
The figure moved toward the back fence.
Bear kept watching.
Police arrived in five minutes.
The person was gone.
Behind the garage, officers found a plastic bag.
Inside was a prepaid phone.
One contact.
Bear pressed call only after Agent Chen arrived.
It rang.
Once.
Twice.
Then a man answered.
“Bear?”
Bear forgot every sentence he had prepared for six years.
His hand tightened around the phone.
“Michael.”
Silence.
Then breathing.
Michael whispered, “Is Lily safe?”
Bear closed his eyes.
Alive.
Voice older.
Rougher.
But Michael.
“Yeah.”
A sound came through the line.
Relief.
Almost a sob.
“Thank God.”
Bear’s anger returned immediately because anger was easier.
“Where the hell are you?”
“Can’t tell you.”
“Six years.”
“I know.”
“You let me think you were dead.”
“I know.”
“Stop saying you know.”
Michael fell silent.
Bear paced the kitchen.
“You have a daughter.”
“Yes.”
“You have a wife.”
“Yes.”
“She’s missing.”
“I know.”
Bear stopped.
“How?”
“They took Rachel yesterday.”
“Who?”