Then our hometown.

Then the café.

Then August 15.

"I searched for you," he said.

"How?"

"Slowly. For years."

He eventually found a newspaper article about a missing young man from fifty years earlier.

His photograph was there.

Daniel.

His real name.

His old life.

And finally, me.

He said he knew he had to find me.

"I never stopped thinking there was someone waiting for me."

I was crying.

"Why didn't you find me sooner?"

He lowered his eyes.

"I couldn't."

"Why?"

He looked at me.

"Because I need to tell you something."

I waited.

His expression changed.

The warmth disappeared.

His face became serious.

"There was no accident."

My entire body went cold.

"What?"

"I lied to you."

I stared at him.

He took a breath.

"I disappeared because of someone you know very well."

The Name He Finally Said

I couldn't speak.

Daniel looked toward the café window.

Then back at me.

"Do you remember your older brother, Thomas?"

My stomach tightened.

Of course I remembered Thomas.

My brother was three years older than me.

He had been protective of me when we were children.

He had driven me to school.

He had helped me with homework.

He had been the person I called whenever I needed help.

But our relationship had changed as adults.

Thomas had died twelve years earlier.

"What does Thomas have to do with you disappearing?"

Daniel looked at his hands.

"Everything."

I shook my head.

"No."

"I knew he wouldn't tell you."

"Tell me what?"

Daniel leaned forward.

"Thomas found out about something we weren't supposed to know."

My heart began beating faster.

"What?"

"About your father."

I froze.

My father had died when I was thirty-four.

He had always been a quiet man.

Strict.

Private.

He had owned a small hardware business.

As far as I knew, his life had been ordinary.

Daniel continued.

"Your father wasn't who you thought he was."

I almost laughed.

It wasn't funny.

"Daniel, my father worked six days a week. He raised us. He paid the bills. What are you talking about?"

"Your father had another life."

The Box

Daniel reached into his coat.

He pulled out a small brass key.

My hands started shaking.

"I've carried this for almost fifty years."

"What is it?"

"A key."