PART 4: THE FIRST NATHAN
\nI stared at the photograph until the boy\u2019s face seemed to move beneath my trembling fingers.
\nNathan must never learn he was not the first Nathan.
\nRebecca stood beside me, pale and shaking.
\nOutside the locked office, Mercer had stopped pounding on the door.
\nThat frightened me more than the pounding had.
\n\u201cMom,\u201d I whispered into the phone. \u201cWho is this boy?\u201d
\nMargaret didn\u2019t answer.
\n\u201cMom.\u201d
\n\u201cI need you to leave that police station.\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\u201cNathan, please.\u201d
\n\u201cWho is the boy?\u201d
\nHer voice broke.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
\u201cHis name was Nathan Brooks.\u201d
\nMy stomach turned.
\n\u201cThat\u2019s my name.\u201d
\n\u201cI know.\u201d
\n\u201cHow old was he?\u201d
\n\u201cSeven when that photograph was taken.\u201d
\n\u201cAnd when did he die?\u201d
\nSilence.
\nRebecca slowly looked at me.
\nI had guessed correctly.
\nMargaret whispered, \u201cHe was nine.\u201d
\nMy knees nearly gave out.
\n\u201cWhen?\u201d
\n\u201cThree years before you were born.\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I laughed once because my brain refused to accept what I was hearing.
\n\u201cThat\u2019s impossible.\u201d
\n\u201cI wish it were.\u201d
\n\u201cYou had another son named Nathan?\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cAnd after he died, you had me and gave me his name?\u201d
\nMargaret started crying.
\n\u201cIt wasn\u2019t that simple.\u201d
\n\u201cIt sounds pretty simple.\u201d
\n\u201cNo. Henry made sure nothing about our lives was simple after that.\u201d
\nRebecca touched my arm.
\nI pulled away without meaning to.
\nMy entire childhood suddenly felt contaminated.
\nEvery birthday card.
\nEvery photograph.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Every time my father had called me \u201cchamp.\u201d
\nEvery time my mother had looked at me strangely when she thought I wasn\u2019t watching.
\nHad she been seeing me?
\nOr him?
\n\u201cHow did the first Nathan die?\u201d
\nMargaret whispered, \u201cHe drowned.\u201d
\nMy eyes dropped to the photograph.
\nThe boy was standing beside a lake.
\nMy skin prickled.
\n\u201cWhat lake?\u201d
\n\u201cHolloway Lake.\u201d
\nRebecca inhaled sharply.
\nThe same lake from Claire\u2019s photograph.
\n\u201cWhy were you connected to Dr. Holloway?\u201d
\nMargaret\u2019s crying stopped.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
When she spoke again, her voice was quieter.
\n\u201cBecause your father believed grief could be cured.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat does that mean?\u201d
\n\u201cAfter Nathan died, Henry changed.\u201d
\n\u201cHe became obsessed?\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cWith Holloway?\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat did Holloway promise him?\u201d
\nMy mother hesitated.
\nThen she said the sentence that made Rebecca grip the desk.
\n\u201cHe promised your father that losing a child didn\u2019t have to be permanent.\u201d
\nI felt sick.
\n\u201cYou can\u2019t bring someone back from the dead.\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\nMargaret\u2019s voice cracked.
\n\u201cBut you can make grieving parents believe they recognize someone else.\u201d
\nI stared at the documents scattered across the desk.
\nMemory.
\nIdentity.
\nSuggestibility.
\nSubject pairing.
\nSuddenly the pieces began fitting together in a way I desperately didn\u2019t want them to.
\n\u201cMom\u2026 am I adopted?\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\u201cThen what am I?\u201d
\n\u201cYou are my son.\u201d
\n\u201cThat isn\u2019t what I asked.\u201d
\n\u201cYou are my biological son, Nathan.\u201d
\nI closed my eyes.
\nRelief came for half a second.
\nThen another question replaced it.
\n\u201cWhy did Dad write that I wasn\u2019t the first Nathan?\u201d
\n\u201cBecause he never accepted that you were different.\u201d
\nThe words hurt more than I expected.
\nMargaret continued.
\n\u201cWhen you were born, Henry insisted on naming you Nathan.\u201d
\n\u201cYou agreed?\u201d
\n\u201cI was grieving. I was frightened. Your father told me it would help us heal.\u201d
\n\u201cDid it?\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\nShe paused.
\n\u201cIt made Henry worse.\u201d
\n\u201cHow?\u201d
\n\u201cHe started comparing you.\u201d
\n\u201cTo a dead child?\u201d
\n\u201cEverything. The way you slept. The foods you liked. The age you started walking. He kept journals.\u201d
\nA memory flashed through my mind.
\nMy father making me throw a baseball again and again because I was \u201cholding it wrong.\u201d
\nI had been six.
\nAnother memory.
\nMy father becoming furious because I refused to eat strawberry ice cream.
\n\u201cYou always loved strawberry,\u201d he had said.
\nExcept I hadn\u2019t.
\nMaybe the first Nathan had.
\nMy chest tightened.
\n\u201cDad was trying to turn me into him.\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cAnd Holloway helped.\u201d
\n\u201cAt first, Holloway told Henry it was unhealthy.\u201d
\nThat surprised me.
\n\u201cThen what changed?\u201d
\n\u201cMoney.\u201d
\nOf course.
\n\u201cYour father began financing Holloway\u2019s research.\u201d
\nRebecca stared at Subject 7 written across her photographs.
\nMargaret continued.
\n\u201cHolloway believed identity was more fragile than people understood. He believed that if you controlled someone\u2019s memories, environment, relationships, and emotional attachments, you could rebuild who they believed themselves to be.\u201d
\nRebecca whispered, \u201cOh my God.\u201d
\nMargaret heard her.
\n\u201cIs Rebecca there?\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\nAnother silence.
\n\u201cMom, who is she?\u201d
\nMargaret began crying again.
\n\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d
\nRebecca recoiled as if she had been slapped.
\n\u201cYou knew her.\u201d
\n\u201cI knew a child who looked like her.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat does that mean?\u201d
\n\u201cHolloway brought three girls to the lake house.\u201d
\n\u201cClaire, Rachel and Rebecca?\u201d
\n\u201cWe never knew their real names.\u201d
\nI stared at the three birth certificates.
\n\u201cThese are fake?\u201d
\n\u201cProbably.\u201d
\n\u201cWhy three girls?\u201d
\n\u201cHolloway called them mirrors.\u201d
\nRebecca\u2019s fingers tightened around the desk.
\n\u201cMirrors?\u201d
\n\u201cHe believed identity could be transferred socially.\u201d
\n\u201cThat doesn\u2019t mean anything.\u201d
\n\u201cIt meant he wanted to see whether three children who looked nearly identical could be raised with overlapping memories until even they became uncertain which experiences belonged to whom.\u201d
\nA chill ran through me.
\n\u201cThey weren\u2019t triplets?\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\u201cThen why did they look identical?\u201d
\n\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d
\n\u201cBut you said Rebecca remembered you as her mother.\u201d
\nMargaret went silent.
\n\u201cMom.\u201d
\n\u201cI participated.\u201d
\nRebecca stopped breathing.
\n\u201cIn what?\u201d
\n\u201cI was supposed to spend time with one of the girls.\u201d
\n\u201cWhy?\u201d
\n\u201cHolloway wanted each child to form attachments to different adults.\u201d
\nRebecca whispered, \u201cYou pretended to be my mother?\u201d
\n\u201cI\u2019m sorry.\u201d
\n\u201cYou pretended to be my mother?\u201d
\nRebecca shouted it this time.
\nMargaret sobbed.
\n\u201cI thought it was therapy.\u201d
\n\u201cFor a six-year-old?\u201d
\n\u201cThey told us the girls had experienced severe trauma.\u201d
\n\u201cYou let a child call you Mom?\u201d
\n\u201cI was grieving too.\u201d
\nRebecca stepped away from the phone.
\nHer face hardened.
\nFor the first time since this nightmare began, she didn\u2019t look frightened.
\nShe looked furious.
\n\u201cHow long?\u201d
\nMargaret whispered, \u201cNine months.\u201d
\nRebecca closed her eyes.
\n\u201cAnd then?\u201d
\n\u201cHolloway ended the program.\u201d
\n\u201cWhy?\u201d
\n\u201cBecause something happened at the lake.\u201d
\nThe first Nathan.
\nMy stomach dropped.
\n\u201cMy brother drowned.\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cWas it an accident?\u201d
\nMargaret didn\u2019t answer.
\n\u201cMom?\u201d
\n\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d
\n\u201cYou\u2019ve had decades to know.\u201d
\n\u201cI saw him go into the water.\u201d
\n\u201cAlone?\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\nEvery muscle in my body tightened.
\n\u201cWho was with him?\u201d
\n\u201cOne of the girls.\u201d
\nRebecca opened her eyes.
\n\u201cWhich one?\u201d
\n\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d
\n\u201cHow can you not know?\u201d
\n\u201cBecause by then Holloway had started dressing them alike.\u201d
\nThe room went silent.
\n\u201cWhy?\u201d
\n\u201cTo test recognition.\u201d
\nI wanted to throw the phone against the wall.
\nInstead I asked, \u201cWhat happened?\u201d
\n\u201cThe children were playing near the dock. I heard screaming. When I reached the lake, Nathan was in the water.\u201d
\n\u201cAnd the girl?\u201d
\n\u201cStanding on the dock.\u201d
\n\u201cDid she push him?\u201d
\n\u201cShe said no.\u201d
\n\u201cDid you believe her?\u201d
\n\u201cI didn\u2019t know what to believe.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat did Dad believe?\u201d
\nMargaret\u2019s answer came immediately.
\n\u201cHe blamed her.\u201d
\n\u201cWhich girl?\u201d
\n\u201cHe thought it was Claire.\u201d
\nRebecca whispered, \u201cBut nobody knew which one was Claire.\u201d
\n\u201cExactly.\u201d
\nOutside the office, something scraped against the door.
\nRebecca and I froze.
\nSomeone was there.
\nListening.
\nI lowered my voice.
\n\u201cWhat happened to the girls afterward?\u201d
\n\u201cThey disappeared.\u201d
\n\u201cAll three?\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cAnd Holloway?\u201d
\n\u201cHe shut down the program.\u201d
\n\u201cUntil 2011.\u201d
\nMargaret stopped.
\nI knew from her silence that I had hit something important.
\n\u201cWhat happened in 2011?\u201d
\n\u201cNathan, leave the station.\u201d
\n\u201cTell me.\u201d
\n\u201cI can\u2019t.\u201d
\n\u201cTell me!\u201d
\nMy mother finally whispered:
\n\u201cHenry found one of the girls.\u201d
\nRebecca\u2019s face drained of color.
\n\u201cWhich one?\u201d
\n\u201cHe thought she was Claire.\u201d
\n\u201cThe woman who disappeared?\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cAnd Dad went to Ohio?\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cWhy?\u201d
\n\u201cBecause he wanted her to remember what happened to our first son.\u201d
\nEverything clicked.
\nClaire\u2019s disappearance.
\nMy father\u2019s trips to Cleveland.
\nMercer finding a terrified woman covered in blood.
\n\u201cDad was involved.\u201d
\n\u201cI don\u2019t know how much.\u201d
\n\u201cYou\u2019ve lied to me my entire life.\u201d
\n\u201cI was trying to protect you.\u201d
\n\u201cFrom what?\u201d
\nMy mother\u2019s voice became almost inaudible.
\n\u201cFrom Henry.\u201d
\nThe office door suddenly shook.
\nRebecca jumped.
\nSomeone was trying the handle.
\nI grabbed Mercer\u2019s gun from where I had tucked it into my waistband after tackling him.
\n\u201cNathan?\u201d Margaret said.
\n\u201cSomeone\u2019s outside.\u201d
\n\u201cThen listen to me.\u201d
\nThe handle moved again.
\n\u201cDo not let Thomas Mercer near that lockbox.\u201d
\n\u201cWhy?\u201d
\n\u201cBecause Thomas Mercer wasn\u2019t a deputy who accidentally stumbled into Holloway\u2019s research.\u201d
\nMy blood turned cold.
\n\u201cWhat was he?\u201d
\n\u201cHe was one of Holloway\u2019s assistants.\u201d
\nI looked toward the door.
\nMercer had lied again.
\n\u201cHow do you know?\u201d
\n\u201cBecause I hired him.\u201d
\nI almost dropped the phone.
\n\u201cYou what?\u201d
\n\u201cAfter Henry became obsessed, I needed someone inside the program. Mercer was young. He needed money. I paid him to tell me what Henry and Holloway were doing.\u201d
\n\u201cMercer worked for you?\u201d
\n\u201cAt first.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat changed?\u201d
\n\u201cHe started working for Henry.\u201d
\nThe handle stopped moving.
\nSilence.
\nThen Mercer\u2019s voice came through the door.
\n\u201cYour mother is lying.\u201d
\nI raised the gun.
\nRebecca whispered, \u201cDon\u2019t open it.\u201d
\nMercer continued.
\n\u201cAsk Margaret why Henry died.\u201d
\nMy entire body went still.
\nMy father had died nine years earlier.
\nHeart attack.
\nAt least that was what I had always believed.
\n\u201cMom?\u201d
\nMargaret said nothing.
\n\u201cDad had a heart attack.\u201d
\nMercer laughed softly from the hallway.
\n\u201cNo, Nathan.\u201d
\nMy throat tightened.
\n\u201cWhat happened?\u201d
\nMercer answered through the door.
\n\u201cYour father was poisoned.\u201d
\nRebecca covered her mouth.
\nI stared at the phone.
\n\u201cMom?\u201d
\nMargaret whispered, \u201cHenry was dangerous.\u201d
\nMy knees weakened.
\n\u201cYou killed him?\u201d
\n\u201cI stopped him.\u201d
\n\u201cAnswer me.\u201d
\n\u201cHe was going to take you.\u201d
\n\u201cTake me where?\u201d
\n\u201cBack to Holloway.\u201d
\n\u201cWhy?\u201d
\n\u201cBecause the experiment had failed.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat experiment?\u201d
\n\u201cThe one involving you and Rebecca.\u201d
\nI looked at my wife.
\nHer face was white.
\n\u201cMom, I didn\u2019t meet Rebecca until after Dad died.\u201d
\nMargaret said nothing.
\nAnd that silence was worse than any answer.
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\nRebecca whispered, \u201cNathan\u2026\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\nI looked at the photographs.
\nSubject 7.
\nPictures of me before we met.
\nThe bookstore.
\nThe apartment.
\nThe pairing protocol.
\n\u201cYou knew Rebecca before I did?\u201d
\nMargaret whispered, \u201cYou met her when you were seven.\u201d
\nMy heart stopped.
\nRebecca grabbed the edge of the desk.
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\n\u201cAt Holloway Lake.\u201d
\nI looked at the photograph again.
\nThe first Nathan was there.
\nBut maybe I had been there too.
\n\u201cMom, I wasn\u2019t born yet when that photograph was taken.\u201d
\n\u201cYou were.\u201d
\nMy brain refused to process the sentence.
\n\u201cYou told me the first Nathan died three years before I was born.\u201d
\n\u201cI lied.\u201d
\nEverything inside me went silent.
\n\u201cHow old am I?\u201d
\nMargaret began sobbing.
\n\u201cMom.\u201d
\n\u201cYou\u2019re thirty-nine.\u201d
\n\u201cI\u2019m thirty-six.\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\nMy hand started trembling.
\n\u201cThen where are the first three years of my life?\u201d
\n\u201cHolloway.\u201d
\nOne word.
\nOne impossible word.
\nRebecca stared at me.
\n\u201cWhat did they do to him?\u201d
\nMargaret\u2019s voice broke.
\n\u201cThey made everyone forget which boy survived.\u201d
\nI couldn\u2019t breathe.
\n\u201cThere were two boys?\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cBrothers?\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cTwins?\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\nMy knees hit the chair.
\nMargaret continued crying.
\n\u201cYou and Nathan were identical twins.\u201d
\nI looked at the photograph.
\nThe boy beside my father wasn\u2019t a dead older brother.
\nHe was my twin.
\n\u201cWe were both named Nathan?\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat was my name?\u201d
\n\u201cEthan.\u201d
\nThe room disappeared around me.
\nMy name was Ethan.
\n\u201cNathan died at the lake,\u201d Margaret whispered. \u201cYou survived.\u201d
\nI couldn\u2019t speak.
\n\u201cBut Henry couldn\u2019t accept losing Nathan. He always favored him. Nathan was outgoing. Athletic. Everything Henry wanted.\u201d
\nMy childhood memories came rushing back.
\nThrow the ball again.
\nYou used to love strawberries.
\nYou were never afraid of water.
\nNot memories of me.
\nExpectations of someone else.
\n\u201cDad turned Ethan into Nathan.\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cAnd you let him.\u201d
\n\u201cI tried to stop it.\u201d
\n\u201cYou let him erase my name.\u201d
\n\u201cI was afraid he would take you away.\u201d
\n\u201cHe already did.\u201d
\nRebecca reached for my hand.
\nThis time, I let her hold it.
\nOutside, Mercer said:
\n\u201cNathan\u2014or Ethan\u2014your mother is still hiding the most important part.\u201d
\n\u201cShut up!\u201d
\n\u201cAsk her who pulled your brother from the lake.\u201d
\nI looked at the phone.
\n\u201cWho?\u201d
\nMargaret\u2019s breathing became uneven.
\n\u201cMom, who saved me?\u201d
\n\u201cYou weren\u2019t in the water.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\n\u201cYou were on the dock.\u201d
\nThe words hit me slowly.
\nThen horribly.
\n\u201cIf I was on the dock\u2026\u201d
\nMargaret began crying harder.
\n\u201cWho was in the lake?\u201d
\n\u201cYour brother.\u201d
\n\u201cWho pulled him out?\u201d
\n\u201cOne of the girls.\u201d
\nRebecca stared at me.
\n\u201cWhich girl?\u201d
\n\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d
\nMercer laughed again.
\n\u201cYes, you do, Margaret.\u201d
\n\u201cThomas, stop.\u201d
\n\u201cTell him.\u201d
\n\u201cStop!\u201d
\n\u201cTell him why Rebecca was selected for him twenty-six years later.\u201d
\nMy heart pounded.
\n\u201cMom?\u201d
\nMargaret screamed into the phone:
\n\u201cBecause Henry believed she was the girl who let Nathan drown!\u201d
\nRebecca stumbled backward.
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\u201cHe wanted revenge,\u201d Margaret continued. \u201cBut Holloway convinced him revenge was wasteful.\u201d
\n\u201cWasteful?\u201d
\n\u201cHolloway wanted to use her.\u201d
\n\u201cFor what?\u201d
\n\u201cTo rebuild the family Henry thought he had lost.\u201d
\nI stared at Rebecca.
\nMy father hadn\u2019t arranged my marriage because he loved me.
\nHe had arranged it because Rebecca fit some sick design created decades earlier.
\n\u201cWhy me?\u201d
\n\u201cBecause Henry believed if he could turn Ethan into Nathan, Holloway could turn that girl into whoever Nathan would have grown up to marry.\u201d
\nRebecca shook her head violently.
\n\u201cNo. No.\u201d
\nHer entire adult identity had been manufactured.
\nMaybe mine had too.
\nSuddenly the office lights came back on.
\nThe alarm stopped.
\nThe silence was immediate and terrifying.
\nThen someone knocked three times.
\nNot Mercer.
\nA woman\u2019s voice said:
\n\u201cEthan.\u201d
\nI froze.
\nNobody had called me that in my memory.
\nYet hearing it did something to me.
\nA flash exploded behind my eyes.
\nA dock.
\nSunlight.
\nA little girl screaming.
\nA boy in the water.
\nAnd my own small hands covered in blood.
\nI dropped the phone.
\nRebecca caught me.
\n\u201cNathan!\u201d
\nAnother memory.
\nA girl kneeling beside me.
\n\u201cEthan, look at me.\u201d
\nSame face as Rebecca.
\nBut younger.
\nAnother flash.
\nMy brother screaming:
\n\u201cDon\u2019t let Dad know!\u201d
\nThen water.
\nThen darkness.
\nI opened my eyes.
\n\u201cI remember.\u201d
\nRebecca stared at me.
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\n\u201cI was there.\u201d
\nThe woman outside knocked again.
\n\u201cEthan, open the door.\u201d
\nMercer shouted from farther down the hallway.
\n\u201cDon\u2019t!\u201d
\nThe woman answered:
\n\u201cYou\u2019ve been lying to him for fifteen years, Thomas.\u201d
\nI moved toward the door.
\nRebecca grabbed me.
\n\u201cWait.\u201d
\n\u201cWhoever she is, she knows my real name.\u201d
\n\u201cThat doesn\u2019t mean she\u2019s safe.\u201d
\nShe was right.
\nSo instead of opening the door, I asked:
\n\u201cWhat happened at the lake?\u201d
\nThe woman answered immediately.
\n\u201cYour brother didn\u2019t drown by accident.\u201d
\nMy chest tightened.
\n\u201cWho killed him?\u201d
\nSilence.
\nThen:
\n\u201cYou did.\u201d
\nI stopped breathing.
\nRebecca whispered, \u201cNo.\u201d
\nThe woman continued.
\n\u201cYou pushed Nathan into the lake.\u201d
\nMy legs weakened.
\n\u201cThat\u2019s a lie.\u201d
\n\u201cYou were seven.\u201d
\n\u201cWhy would I kill my brother?\u201d
\n\u201cBecause you were trying to save the girl standing beside you.\u201d
\nAnother memory hit.
\nNathan pulling a little girl\u2019s hair.
\nHer screaming.
\nMy brother laughing.
\nThen my father approaching from the house.
\nThe girl begging me:
\n\u201cPlease don\u2019t let him take me downstairs again.\u201d
\nDownstairs.
\nA locked door.
\nBright lights.
\nDr. Holloway.
\nMy father.
\nChildren crying.
\nI grabbed my head.
\n\u201cI pushed him.\u201d
\nRebecca held me.
\n\u201cYou were a child.\u201d
\n\u201cHe fell into the water.\u201d
\nThe woman outside said:
\n\u201cAnd Claire jumped in after him.\u201d
\nI stared at the door.
\n\u201cShe tried to save him?\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cDid she?\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\nA long silence.
\n\u201cThen why did my father blame her?\u201d
\n\u201cBecause admitting what happened would destroy his perfect replacement.\u201d
\nMe.
\nMy father erased the truth to protect the child he intended to turn into Nathan.
\nMy phone rang from the floor.
\nMargaret.
\nI picked it up.
\n\u201cIs that Claire outside?\u201d she asked.
\n\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d
\n\u201cDo not open the door.\u201d
\n\u201cWhy?\u201d
\n\u201cBecause Claire is dead.\u201d
\nThe woman outside heard her.
\n\u201cNo, Margaret.\u201d
\nMy mother gasped.
\nThe woman continued:
\n\u201cYou watched Samuel bury the wrong girl.\u201d
\nMy skin went cold.
\n\u201cWhat does that mean?\u201d
\nThe woman outside said:
\n\u201cOpen the lockbox again.\u201d
\nRebecca returned to the desk.
\nWe searched through the remaining documents.
\nAt the bottom was an old cassette labeled OCTOBER 8, 2011.
\nRebecca found a small recorder beneath the false panel.
\nThe batteries were corroded.
\nBut there was a power cord.
\nShe plugged it in.
\nMercer began pounding on the door again.
\n\u201cDo not play that tape!\u201d
\nI pressed PLAY.
\nStatic filled the room.
\nThen my father\u2019s voice.
\n\u201cState your name.\u201d
\nA woman answered.
\n\u201cClaire Holloway.\u201d
\nMy father said:
\n\u201cWrong.\u201d
\nA slap.
\nRebecca flinched.
\nAgain my father:
\n\u201cState your name.\u201d
\n\u201cClaire Holloway.\u201d
\n\u201cWrong.\u201d
\nAnother slap.
\nThen Dr. Holloway\u2019s voice.
\n\u201cHenry, stop. She isn\u2019t responding to the conditioning.\u201d
\nMy father shouted:
\n\u201cBecause you brought me the wrong one!\u201d
\nRebecca covered her mouth.
\nThe recording continued.
\nHolloway said:
\n\u201cThey\u2019re identical. We need verification.\u201d
\nThen another voice entered the room.
\nThomas Mercer.
\nYoung, but unmistakable.
\n\u201cI ran the fingerprints.\u201d
\nThe Mercer outside our door went silent.
\nOn the tape, my father asked:
\n\u201cAnd?\u201d
\nMercer answered:
\n\u201cThis isn\u2019t Claire.\u201d
\nMy heart pounded.
\n\u201cWho is she?\u201d Holloway asked.
\nMercer replied:
\n\u201cRachel.\u201d
\nThe woman on the recording began screaming.
\n\u201cNo! My name is Claire!\u201d
\nThen chaos.
\nA crash.
\nSomeone shouting.
\nA gunshot.
\nThe tape went silent for several seconds.
\nThen Mercer\u2019s voice whispered:
\n\u201cOh God.\u201d
\nMy father said:
\n\u201cIs she dead?\u201d
\nMercer answered:
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\nRebecca gripped my arm.
\nMargaret was still on the phone.
\nShe was sobbing.
\nThe tape continued.
\nHolloway said:
\n\u201cWe need to fix this.\u201d
\nMy father:
\n\u201cHow?\u201d
\nHolloway:
\n\u201cClaire is already officially missing.\u201d
\nMy blood froze.
\nHolloway continued:
\n\u201cSo Rachel becomes Claire.\u201d
\nThe tape clicked off.
\nNobody spoke.
\nFinally, the woman outside said:
\n\u201cNow you understand.\u201d
\nI approached the door.
\n\u201cIf Rachel died that night\u2026\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cAnd authorities believed Claire disappeared\u2026\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cThen who are you?\u201d
\nThe woman answered:
\n\u201cI\u2019m Claire.\u201d
\nRebecca whispered, \u201cThen who am I?\u201d
\nClaire went silent.
\nFor the first time, she seemed reluctant to answer.
\nRebecca stepped toward the door.
\n\u201cWHO AM I?\u201d
\nClaire finally whispered:
\n\u201cYou\u2019re the reason I came back.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat does that mean?\u201d
\n\u201cBecause I thought you were dead.\u201d
\nRebecca\u2019s face crumpled.
\n\u201cYou know me?\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cFrom the program?\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\u201cThen from where?\u201d
\nClaire\u2019s voice broke.
\n\u201cBefore Holloway.\u201d
\nRebecca pressed both hands against the door.
\n\u201cTell me.\u201d
\n\u201cYou weren\u2019t Subject 7 when you were born.\u201d
\n\u201cThen what was my name?\u201d
\nClaire whispered:
\n\u201cEmily Vale.\u201d
\nRebecca began crying.
\n\u201cWho were my parents?\u201d
\n\u201cDavid and Laura Vale.\u201d
\n\u201cWhere are they?\u201d
\nClaire didn\u2019t answer.
\nRebecca\u2019s voice cracked.
\n\u201cWhere are my parents?\u201d
\n\u201cThey died when you were four.\u201d
\n\u201cHow?\u201d
\n\u201cA house fire.\u201d
\n\u201cAnd Holloway took me?\u201d
\n\u201cHe bought you.\u201d
\nThe room went silent.
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\n\u201cHe paid the person who had temporary custody of you.\u201d
\nRebecca slid down against the door.
\nClaire continued:
\n\u201cYou became the first child in his identity program who had no biological connection to him.\u201d
\n\u201cWhy did I look like you?\u201d
\n\u201cYou didn\u2019t.\u201d
\nI frowned.
\nRebecca looked up.
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\nClaire said:
\n\u201cNot originally.\u201d
\nEven Mercer stopped moving outside.
\nRebecca whispered:
\n\u201cWhat did he do to me?\u201d
\n\u201cHair. Dental work. Small surgeries over the years.\u201d
\nRebecca touched her face.
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\u201cHe didn\u2019t make you identical. Not completely. But close enough that after years of conditioning, photographs, mannerisms and cosmetic procedures, people saw what they expected to see.\u201d
\nThat explained why facial recognition had flagged her.
\nNot science fiction.
\nJust decades of calculated manipulation.
\nRebecca began shaking.
\n\u201cAnd the woman in the picture who looks like me?\u201d
\n\u201cMe.\u201d
\n\u201cThe woman who tied someone to our couch?\u201d
\n\u201cThat photograph was staged.\u201d
\nI froze.
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\nClaire continued:
\n\u201cThe woman tied to your couch isn\u2019t Rebecca.\u201d
\nRebecca stood.
\n\u201cThen who is she?\u201d
\nClaire answered:
\n\u201cSomeone Mercer has been hiding for fifteen years.\u201d
\nMercer suddenly ran.
\nHis footsteps thundered down the corridor.
\nClaire shouted:
\n\u201cStop him!\u201d
\nI unlocked the door.
\nClaire stood there.
\nSame general face as Rebecca, but now that I knew what to look for, the differences were obvious.
\nOlder eyes.
\nDifferent jaw.
\nA scar near her ear.
\nShe wasn\u2019t Rebecca\u2019s twin.
\nShe was the woman Rebecca had been altered to resemble.
\nClaire ran after Mercer.
\nI followed.
\nRebecca came behind me.
\nWe reached the stairwell just as Mercer disappeared downstairs.
\nClaire stopped.
\n\u201cHe\u2019s going for the evidence room.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat\u2019s there?\u201d
\n\u201cThe original Holloway files.\u201d
\n\u201cHow do you know?\u201d
\n\u201cI put them there.\u201d
\nI stared at her.
\n\u201cYou?\u201d
\n\u201cI\u2019ve been feeding Mercer pieces for eight years.\u201d
\n\u201cWhy?\u201d
\n\u201cTo make him reopen the case.\u201d
\n\u201cWhy not go to police yourself?\u201d
\n\u201cBecause the last time I trusted police, Mercer helped kill Rachel.\u201d
\nWe rushed downstairs.
\nThe evidence-room door was open.
\nMercer was inside.
\nHe held a pistol in one hand.
\nA metal case in the other.
\n\u201cStop!\u201d Claire shouted.
\nMercer turned.
\nHis face looked completely different now.
\nNo fear.
\nNo confusion.
\nJust exhaustion.
\n\u201cYou should have stayed dead, Claire.\u201d
\n\u201cYou should have told the truth.\u201d
\n\u201cI tried.\u201d
\n\u201cYou helped them bury Rachel.\u201d
\n\u201cI was twenty-four!\u201d
\n\u201cYou were old enough to know murder was wrong.\u201d
\nMercer raised the gun.
\nI stepped between them.
\n\u201cPut it down.\u201d
\n\u201cNathan, move.\u201d
\n\u201cMy name is Ethan.\u201d
\nSomething flickered in his eyes.
\n\u201cFine. Ethan. Move.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat\u2019s in the case?\u201d
\n\u201cNothing that concerns you.\u201d
\nClaire laughed bitterly.
\n\u201cThat case is the reason Henry Brooks was killed.\u201d
\nI looked at my mother\u2019s name still glowing on my phone.
\n\u201cWhat\u2019s inside?\u201d
\nMercer tightened his grip.
\n\u201cProof.\u201d
\n\u201cOf what?\u201d
\nHe looked at Rebecca.
\n\u201cOf who funded Project Second Life.\u201d
\n\u201cMy father?\u201d
\nMercer shook his head.
\n\u201cHenry was rich enough to keep Holloway comfortable.\u201d
\n\u201cThen who?\u201d
\nMercer stared at me.
\n\u201cYour father wasn\u2019t running the project.\u201d
\n\u201cWho was?\u201d
\nBefore he could answer, a gunshot exploded.
\nMercer dropped.
\nRebecca screamed.
\nBlood spread across his shoulder.
\nBehind him stood a uniformed officer.
\nThe same officer who had escorted us downstairs earlier.
\nHe held a smoking gun.
\n\u201cEverybody stay where you are.\u201d
\nClaire\u2019s face changed.
\nShe recognized him.
\n\u201cYou.\u201d
\nThe officer smiled.
\nThen I recognized him too.
\nThe scar near his jaw.
\nThe gray hair.
\nThe man who had pulled Rebecca over.
\nExcept now he wore a different uniform.
\n\u201cYou\u2019re the trooper.\u201d
\nHe smiled.
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\nRebecca stepped backward.
\n\u201cYou stopped us.\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cYou told Nathan not to go home.\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cWhy?\u201d
\n\u201cBecause I needed him to call Mercer.\u201d
\nI finally understood.
\nThe traffic stop hadn\u2019t been luck.
\nIt had been arranged.
\n\u201cYou started all of this.\u201d
\n\u201cI opened the door.\u201d
\n\u201cWho are you?\u201d
\nClaire whispered:
\n\u201cDaniel.\u201d
\nMy head snapped toward her.
\n\u201cDaniel Voss?\u201d
\nClaire\u2019s former fianc\u00e9.
\nThe man whose remains had supposedly been discovered fifteen years ago.
\nThe officer smiled.
\n\u201cHello, Claire.\u201d
\nShe looked like she had seen a ghost.
\n\u201cYou\u2019re dead.\u201d
\n\u201cSo were you.\u201d
\nMercer groaned on the floor.
\nDaniel kicked his gun away.
\nI stared at him.
\n\u201cWhose body did they find in West Virginia?\u201d
\nDaniel\u2019s smile disappeared.
\n\u201cA man Holloway decided nobody would miss.\u201d
\nMy stomach turned.
\n\u201cYou let everyone believe you were dead?\u201d
\n\u201cI had to.\u201d
\n\u201cWhy come back now?\u201d
\nDaniel looked at Rebecca.
\n\u201cBecause Project Second Life never ended.\u201d
\nRebecca shook her head.
\n\u201cHolloway is dead.\u201d
\nDaniel\u2019s expression changed.
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\nClaire whispered, \u201cSamuel died twelve years ago.\u201d
\nDaniel looked at her.
\n\u201cThat\u2019s what he wanted you to believe.\u201d
\nA terrible silence followed.
\nThen Daniel placed his hand on the metal case Mercer had dropped.
\n\u201cSamuel Holloway is alive.\u201d
\nRebecca grabbed my hand.
\n\u201cWhere?\u201d
\nDaniel looked at me.
\nThen he said:
\n\u201cCloser than you think.\u201d
\nMy phone rang.
\nMargaret again.
\nI answered.
\n\u201cMom?\u201d
\nShe was whispering.
\n\u201cNathan\u2026 someone is in the house.\u201d
\nMy blood froze.
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\n\u201cI heard the back door.\u201d
\n\u201cLock yourself in a room.\u201d
\n\u201cI did.\u201d
\n\u201cCall the police.\u201d
\n\u201cI tried.\u201d
\nHer voice trembled.
\n\u201cThe line keeps dropping.\u201d
\nThen I heard something through her phone.
\nThree knocks.
\nSlow.
\nDeliberate.
\nMargaret stopped breathing.
\nA man\u2019s voice came from the other side of her bedroom door.
\n\u201cMargaret.\u201d
\nHer phone slipped slightly.
\n\u201cOh God.\u201d
\n\u201cMom, who is that?\u201d
\nShe whispered:
\n\u201cSamuel.\u201d
\nThe man outside her room spoke again.
\n\u201cYou kept my son from me long enough.\u201d
\nI froze.
\nMy mother began sobbing.
\n\u201cMom?\u201d
\nSamuel\u2019s voice came through clearly.
\n\u201cTell Ethan the truth.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat truth?\u201d
\nMargaret cried:
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\nSamuel laughed softly.
\n\u201cTell him why Henry chose him.\u201d
\n\u201cI won\u2019t.\u201d
\n\u201cTell him who his biological father is.\u201d
\nEverything inside me stopped.
\nI looked at Daniel.
\nAt Claire.
\nAt Rebecca.
\nAt Mercer bleeding on the floor.
\n\u201cMom.\u201d
\nMy voice barely worked.
\n\u201cHenry Brooks was my father.\u201d
\nMargaret sobbed.
\nSamuel answered for her.
\n\u201cNo, Ethan.\u201d
\nI couldn\u2019t breathe.
\nThen Dr. Samuel Holloway said the words that shattered the last piece of my childhood.
\n\u201cHenry Brooks raised you.\u201d
\nA pause.
\n\u201cBut I am your father.\u201d
\nThe call ended.
\nI stared at the dark screen.
\nRebecca whispered my real name.
\n\u201cEthan\u2026\u201d
\nBut another sound came from the phone.
\nA notification.
\nOne final message from my mother.
\nA photograph.
\nIt showed Samuel Holloway standing beside her bedroom door.
\nOlder now.
\nWhite-haired.
\nThin.
\nBut unmistakably alive.
\nAnd beside him stood my mother.
\nShe wasn\u2019t being held hostage anymore.
\nShe was smiling.
\nUnder the photograph, Margaret had written:
\nI\u2019m sorry. This was the only way to bring everyone back together.
\nMy hands went numb.
\nThen a second message appeared.
\nCOME TO HOLLOWAY LAKE.
\nMIDNIGHT.
\nDaniel looked over my shoulder.
\nHis face went pale.
\nClaire whispered:
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\nRebecca squeezed my hand.
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\nClaire stared at the photograph.
\n\u201cLook behind them.\u201d
\nI enlarged it.
\nThere was someone standing in the hallway behind Samuel and my mother.
\nA man.
\nAbout my age.
\nSame eyes.
\nSame nose.
\nSame face.
\nMy face.
\nI couldn\u2019t move.
\n\u201cThat\u2019s impossible.\u201d
\nClaire began crying.
\nDaniel whispered:
\n\u201cThey lied about the lake.\u201d
\nI stared at him.
\n\u201cAbout what?\u201d
\nHe pointed at the man in the photograph.
\n\u201cThe boy who fell into the water survived.\u201d
\nMy heart stopped.
\nRebecca covered her mouth.
\nI looked again at the stranger wearing my face.
\nThe brother I had spent my entire life believing was dead.
\nDaniel\u2019s next words turned every answer we had found into another lie.
\n\u201cEthan, if that man is who I think he is\u2026\u201d
\nHe swallowed.
\n\u201c\u2026then we still don\u2019t know which one of you is Nathan.\u201d……………..<\/p>\n
PART 4: THE FIRST NATHAN I stared at the photograph until the boy\u2019s face seemed to move beneath my trembling fingers. Nathan must never learn he was not the first … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-6531","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6531","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=6531"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6531\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6534,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6531\/revisions\/6534"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=6531"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=6531"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=6531"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}