Chapter 3 - The Secret Behind Walter Hayes
“My mother said he abandoned us.”
Walter said nothing.
Marcus stepped closer.
“She said he walked out.”
“She wanted to protect you.”
“From what?”
“The truth.”
Marcus laughed.
There was no humor in it.
“My father disappearing was supposed to protect me?”
“He didn't disappear.”
Walter took the photograph back.
“He died during a rescue operation.”
Marcus shook his head.
“No.”
“An armed man had two children trapped inside a house.”
“Stop.”
“David entered—”
“I said stop.”
“—and was shot twice.”
Marcus went completely still.
Walter's voice softened.
“He still got both children outside.”
Marcus knocked the photograph from Walter's hand.
“Liar!”
His fist smashed into the locker.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Walter didn't stop him.
Marcus finally turned.
Blood marked his knuckles.
“Look at me!”
Walter did.
Marcus pointed toward his prison uniform.
“If my father was this great man you're describing, look at what he left behind.”
Walter shook his head.
“No.”
“What?”
“This isn't what David left.”
Walter stepped closer.
“This is what you built from the pain of losing him.”
Marcus raised his fist.
Walter didn't move.
“Hit me.”
Marcus froze.
“Go ahead.”
Walter's voice remained calm.
“When you're finished, your father will still have died saving two children, and you'll still be an angry man because somebody hid the truth from you.”
Marcus's fist trembled.
Then lowered.
Walter picked up the photograph.
“There’s something else.”
Marcus swallowed.
“What?”
“A letter.”
Walter reached into his jacket.
Marcus stared.
“From who?”
“Your father.”
Everything inside Marcus seemed to stop.
“He wrote it several hours before the operation.”
“You've had a letter from my father all these years?”
“Yes.”
“Give it to me.”
Walter hesitated.
Marcus stepped forward.
“Give me the damn letter.”
“No.”
Marcus stared at him in disbelief.
“You don't get to decide that.”
“Actually, David asked me to.”
“What?”
Walter's eyes lowered toward the envelope.
“He told me that if anything happened to him, I should give this to you when you were old enough to understand it.”
“I’m forty-one.”
“Age isn't what he meant.”
Marcus clenched his jaw.
“What do I have to do?”
“Nothing.”
“Then give it to me.”
Walter studied him.
“You need to understand something first.”
“What?”
“The operation that killed your father wasn't random.”
Marcus's expression changed.
Walter continued.
“Someone gave the armed man information.”
“Information about what?”
“The police approach.”
Marcus stared at him.
“You're saying someone betrayed them?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
Walter didn't answer.
“Who?”
“A police officer.”
Marcus's breathing changed.
Walter looked toward the security camera.
“Not here.”
“Why?”
“Because the man responsible is still alive.”
Marcus lowered his voice.
“Where?”
Walter looked directly at him.
“Blackridge.”
Marcus went pale.
“A prisoner?”
Walter shook his head.
“No.”
That single word was worse.
Marcus stared down the corridor toward the guard station.
“You mean—”
“I mean you need to stop talking.”
Footsteps approached.
Walter immediately resumed working.
A corrections officer rounded the corner.
Captain Raymond Cole.
Gray hair.
Hard face.
Twenty-seven years at Blackridge.
Cole looked at Marcus.
“What are you doing outside your assigned area?”
Marcus glanced at Walter.
Then at Cole.
“Talking.”
Cole's eyes rested on the envelope in Walter's hand.
Something flashed across his face.
Recognition.
Fear.
It lasted less than a second.
But Marcus saw it.
Cole walked away.
Marcus whispered:
“Him?”
May you like
Walter said nothing.
That was enough.
