Chapter 2 - The Photograph That Destroyed Them
Mercer carried Lennox into the living room.
Tavlin followed.
Neither spoke for several minutes.
The storm outside became background noise.
Lennox slept against his father's chest.
Mercer barely dared to breathe.
Everything about the boy was suddenly unbearable.
His gray eyes.
The tiny fingers.
The soft curls.
The subtle crease between his eyebrows that appeared whenever he dreamed.
Mercer had spent eighteen months imagining what his son looked like.
He had been wrong about everything.
The child was not a photograph.
Not evidence.
Not an argument in a custody case.
He was a person.
A little boy who had just called him Dad.
And Mercer had missed his first steps.
His first fever.
His first laugh.
His first birthday.
He looked at Tavlin.
“You said Julian.”
“Yes.”
“My brother died.”
“That is what they wanted you to believe.”
Mercer stood.
“Who?”
Tavlin didn't answer.
“You don't get to drop something like that and expect me to sit quietly.”
“I know.”
“Then tell me.”
She walked toward the kitchen.
“I need coffee.”
“It is two in the morning.”
“I haven't slept properly in three days.”
Mercer stared at her.
“Why?”
Tavlin hesitated.
“Because someone has been watching the house.”
His expression hardened.
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“Why didn't you call me?”
She laughed.
“You think I'd call you?”
“Yes.”
“After what happened?”
He looked away.
She continued.
“After you told the world I trapped you?”
“I didn't say that.”
“You didn't have to.”
Mercer closed his eyes.
He remembered that night.
His mother had shown him photographs.
Bank records.
Messages.
Tavlin had been accused of leaking confidential information from his company.
The person who delivered the evidence said Tavlin had been secretly working with a rival.
Mercer had confronted her.
She denied everything.
He had asked if she had been with someone else.
She cried.
He refused to believe her.
Three weeks later, she disappeared.
He had spent eighteen months furious.
But fury was easier than admitting he might have destroyed the most important relationship of his life.
Mercer set Lennox carefully onto the couch.
Tavlin returned with coffee.
“You should hold him.”
He looked at her.
“You trust me?”
She considered the question.
“I trust that he wants you.”
It wasn't the same answer.
But it was enough.
Mercer sat.
Lennox shifted.
His eyes opened.
“Dada.”
Mercer smiled.
“Yeah.”
He touched the boy's hair.
“I'm here.”
Tavlin looked away.
Then Mercer asked:
“What happened after I left?”
She sat across from him.
“I found out I was pregnant.”
His breath caught.
“You knew?”
“I found out two weeks after you disappeared.”
“And you never told me?”
“I sent six letters.”
He stared.
“What?”
“Six.”
“I never received them.”
“I knew.”
Mercer looked confused.
“You knew?”
Tavlin nodded.
“Every letter came back unopened.”
He shook his head.
“That doesn't make sense.”
“They were intercepted.”
“By whom?”
She reached for a folder.
Inside were copies of the letters.
All addressed to Mercer.
All stamped with his former home address.
Each envelope carried a red return mark.
Mercer picked one up.
His hands trembled.
“I never saw these.”
“I know.”
“Who returned them?”
“I don't know.”
He looked at the dates.
The first letter had been sent days after he had ended their relationship.
The second one contained the words:
I'm pregnant.
He stared at it.
His eyes closed.
“Tavlin…”
She did not answer.
The third letter contained a sonogram.
The fourth said:
Please, just believe me.
The fifth said:
He has your eyes.
The sixth said:
I won't ask you for anything except the truth.
Mercer couldn't speak.
His son shifted.
Mercer pressed a hand over his mouth.
“You should have told me.”
“I tried.”
“No.”
His voice cracked.
“You should have found another way.”
She looked at him.
“I was twenty-six weeks pregnant when your lawyers sent me a legal warning.”
His eyes snapped up.
“What warning?”
“That if I contacted you again, I could be accused of harassment.”
Mercer stared.
“I never authorized that.”
“I know.”
“Who did?”
Tavlin's face hardened.
“Your mother.”
Mercer went still.
“My mother?”
“She believed I was after your money.”
“She knew you.”
“She knew what she wanted to believe.”
Mercer stood.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“I did.”
“No.”
“You didn't answer.”
He walked away.
The room felt suddenly smaller.
“I was wrong,” he said.
“Yes.”
“I hurt you.”
“Yes.”
“I abandoned my son.”
“Yes.”
He turned.
“Then what do you want me to do?”
Tavlin's eyes filled.
“Nothing.”
“What?”
“That's what I've wanted for eighteen months.”
She wiped her cheek.
“I wanted to raise my son without being afraid that somebody would take him away.”
Mercer took a step toward her.
“I won't.”
“You can't promise that.”
“I can fight.”
“I've seen what your money can do.”
“Not this time.”
She looked at him.
“Then prove it.”
A knock sounded at the door.
Both froze.
Mercer placed himself between Tavlin and the entrance.
“Who is it?”
No answer.
Another knock.
Three slow taps.
Lennox began fussing.
Tavlin went pale.
“That sound…”
“What?”
“The same knock.”
Mercer glanced at the security panel.
“No one is on the camera.”
He moved to the side entrance.
“Stay back.”
He opened the door.
No one.
Only an envelope.
White.
Dry.
Despite the rain.
Mercer picked it up.
His name was written across the front.
MERCER HOLAY.
He opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
Julian.
Alive.
Standing outside a hospital.
Beside a newborn baby.
Mercer felt cold.
The baby looked like Lennox.
On the back was a message.
You were never supposed to meet him.
Mercer stared at the photograph.
Tavlin whispered:
“That's why I disappeared.”
He looked at her.
“Because they were watching?”
“Yes.”
“Who are they?”
She shook her head.
“I don't know.”
Mercer flipped the photograph over again.
A date appeared beneath the message.
The day Lennox was born.
That was impossible.
Because the hospital in the photograph was not in Boston.
It was in Chicago.
Three states away.
Mercer looked at Tavlin.
“Julian was there when Lennox was born.”
She nodded.
“And he wasn't dead.”
“No.”
“Then why didn't he come to me?”
Her expression changed.
“Because he was afraid.”
“Of whom?”
She whispered:
“Of our father.”
Mercer froze.
May you like
Their father had died before Julian.
Or so he'd been told.
