Chapter 2 - The Flight

I didn’t wait to see what he would do next.

The letter’s instruction screamed in my mind: If he looks toward the fireplace… leave immediately.

My chair scraped violently against the hardwood floor as I pushed myself up. My dad snapped his head back toward me, the color completely drained from his face. The man who had just been happily talking about the World Series looked like a stranger—a terrified, desperate stranger.

“Ethan, wait,” he stammered, his voice cracking. He took a step toward me, his hands raised as if approaching a wild animal. “Where did you hear about that? Who told you?”

“I have to go,” I said, my heart hammering against my ribs.

I backed away toward the front door. The air in the house suddenly felt suffocating, thick with decades of unspoken secrets.

“Ethan, please! You don’t understand!” he yelled, lunging forward.

I turned and sprinted. I burst through the front door, practically leaping off the porch, and fumbled for my car keys. My hands were shaking so violently I dropped them in the grass. Behind me, the screen door slammed open.

“Ethan! Don’t do this! Do not go digging into the past!”

I snatched my keys, threw myself into the driver’s seat, and slammed the locks. Through the windshield, I saw my father standing in the driveway. He wasn’t angry. He was weeping.

I slammed the car into reverse and peeled out of the driveway. As I sped down the suburban street, I looked in my rearview mirror. My father had fallen to his knees in the driveway, his face buried in his hands.

My mind was spinning. What was in that fireplace? What did he do? For thirty-four years, he was my hero. A steady, reliable accountant who coached my Little League teams and paid for my sister’s college. Now, I was terrified of him.

I drove aimlessly for two hours before pulling into a deserted parking lot. I pulled out my phone and called my older sister, Sarah.

“Hey, little brother,” she answered, sounding cheerful. “Everything okay?”

“Sarah,” I breathed, gripping the steering wheel. “Do you remember the day Grandpa disappeared? Did Dad ever act… strange about it?”

There was a long, heavy pause on the line.

“Ethan,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Why are you asking about that? You know we don’t talk about it.”

“I need to know.”

“He burned his clothes,” Sarah whispered, so quietly I almost couldn’t hear her. “The night the police called off the search for Grandpa's boat. I woke up to get a glass of water, and Dad was in the living room. He was burning his own clothes in the fireplace. He told me he was just getting rid of old rags. But I saw the blood, Ethan.”