Chapter 9 - The Man Who Died Twice
Laurent stared at the photograph until the numbers blurred.
Three days.
His father had supposedly been dead for three days when the picture was taken.
The funeral had already been scheduled.
The death certificate had been signed.
The family had begun receiving condolences.
Yet there he was.
Standing outside a warehouse.
Alive.
Laurent looked at Agent Sloan.
“Tell me the date is wrong.”
Sloan's expression remained serious.
“We haven't authenticated the photograph yet.”
“Then why show it to me?”
“Because we need to know whether you recognize the location and the people.”
Laurent looked again.
Thomas wore the same brown work jacket he had worn for years.
His hair was slightly longer than Laurent remembered.
But there was no mistaking his face.
“That's my father.”
Sloan nodded.
“We're examining the original image and its provenance.”
Adrien leaned forward.
“Could the date have been added later?”
“Yes.”
“Could the photograph have been taken earlier?”
“Yes.”
Daniel looked at Laurent.
“We can't assume anything yet.”
Laurent barely heard him.
For fifteen years, he had grieved his father.
He had visited the grave.
Spoken to the headstone.
Carried flowers on birthdays.
And now a photograph suggested that something about the official story was wrong.
He turned to Sloan.
“Was my father really dead when we buried him?”
Sloan hesitated.
“We're reviewing the medical and funeral records.”
Laurent stood abruptly.
“I need to talk to my mother.”
Madeleine was resting at home under police protection.
When Laurent arrived, she was sitting by the window with a cup of tea.
He showed her the photograph.
Her hand trembled.
“Where did you get this?”
“The police.”
Madeleine stared at Thomas's face.
For a long time, she said nothing.
Then she whispered, “That isn't possible.”
Laurent knelt beside her.
“Mom, did Dad ever disappear before he died?”
Madeleine frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“Was he away from home? Did he leave town?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
Madeleine looked hurt.
“I was married to your father for thirty-four years. I knew when he was home.”
Laurent swallowed.
“Then why is there a picture of him taken after his death?”
Madeleine closed her eyes.
“I don't know.”
She reached for the photograph.
Her fingers touched Thomas's face.
Then she noticed something.
A small detail near his left wrist.
A watch.
Thomas had worn the same silver watch for twenty years.
Madeleine had given it to him on their tenth wedding anniversary.
But the watch in the photograph was on his right wrist.
Thomas had never worn it that way.
“He's wearing the watch wrong,” she whispered.
Laurent frowned.
“What?”
Madeleine pointed.
“Your father always wore his watch on the left.”
Laurent looked closer.
The man's face was unmistakable.
But the watch was on the wrong wrist.
And the scar Thomas had carried near his right eyebrow was missing.
Madeleine slowly lowered the photograph.
“That isn't your father.”
Laurent stared.
“Then who is it?”
Madeleine looked at him.
“Thomas had a brother.”
Laurent felt his breath catch.
“I know. Uncle Peter died before I was born.”
Madeleine shook her head.
“No.”
Laurent stared.
“What do you mean, no?”
“Peter didn't die.”
Her voice became barely audible.
“He disappeared when your father was twenty-three.”
Laurent sat back.
For his entire life, he had believed his uncle died in a construction accident.
Now his mother was telling him that story was false.
“Why would Dad lie about his own brother?”
Madeleine's eyes filled.
“Because Peter was accused of stealing money from a children's home.”
Laurent looked again at the photograph.
The same face.
The same build.
The same family resemblance.
And suddenly, the truth became horrifyingly clear.
The man standing beside Victor Harlan wasn't Thomas Rousseau.
It was Peter Rousseau.
May you like
A man who had supposedly vanished nearly forty years earlier.
And according to the photograph, he had been involved in the charity operation all along.
