Chapter 8 - THE MAN IN MONTANA
The search took three weeks.
Investigators followed records connected to Nicholas's aliases.
Some leads failed.
Others ended at abandoned addresses.
Then a small-town sheriff in Montana confirmed that a man matching Nicholas's description had lived near a mountain lake.
His name was Thomas Reed.
He worked repairing boats.
He lived alone.
And he had disappeared from public view after a serious illness.
Harper insisted on going.
Gabriel offered to accompany her.
She hesitated.
Then nodded.
“Okay.”
They flew to Montana with an attorney and an investigator.
The mountains rose beneath a pale blue sky.
Harper stared out the window.
She had never been farther west than Iowa.
Everything looked enormous.
Open.
Quiet.
The sheriff met them at a small office.
He was a broad man named Daniel Foster.
“I knew Thomas,” he said.
Harper leaned forward.
“Is he alive?”
The sheriff hesitated.
“Yes.”
Her breath caught.
“But he's been ill.”
Harper gripped the edge of the chair.
“Where is he?”
They drove to a small house beside a lake.
Pine trees surrounded the property.
A weathered porch faced the water.
A dog barked as the car approached.
Harper stepped out.
Her legs felt weak.
The front door opened.
A man appeared.
He was in his fifties.
Thin.
Gray at the temples.
His shoulders were slightly stooped.
But his eyes—
Harper stopped breathing.
They were her eyes.
The man looked at Gabriel.
His face changed.
“Gabe?”
Gabriel stood frozen.
“Nicky?”
The man gripped the doorframe.
For a moment, neither moved.
Then Gabriel crossed the yard.
The brothers embraced.
Harper watched as two men who had spent twenty-three years believing they had lost each other began crying like children.
Finally, Nicholas looked at her.
His expression changed.
He stared.
Then whispered:
“Elena?”
Harper began crying.
“No.”
Nicholas covered his mouth.
“Oh my God.”
She stepped closer.
“My name is Harper.”
His eyes filled.
“Harper.”
She nodded.
“I'm your daughter.”
Nicholas sank into a chair.
Harper knelt beside him.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then he reached for her hand.
“Your mother…”
Harper swallowed.
“She died three years ago.”
Nicholas closed his eyes.
A sound escaped him.
Raw.
Broken.
He bowed his head.
Harper held his hand.
After a long time, he whispered:
“I tried to find you.”
Harper began crying harder.
“Then why didn't you?”
Nicholas looked at her.
“Because every time I got close, someone found me.”
He glanced toward Gabriel.
“And because I believed the only way to keep you alive was to stay dead.”
Harper stared at him.
She had imagined this moment a thousand ways since discovering the truth.
She had imagined anger.
Accusations.
Questions.
May you like
Instead, she reached forward.
And hugged her father.
