It was best if he just kept his mouth shut and kept his eyes down. Everyone was safer that way. And it worked. There were a few moments when he thought he was about to blow it, but nothing ever came of it.

Jamie became his little sister. Her parents became his parents, and he grew to love them. He missed his real parents, but from what he could see in the newspapers, they were getting on with their lives. Cecilia still ran her hospital, and the senator still ran politics. And they had Michael. At least they hadn’t lost all their children.

He’d followed Michael for years. Once the Internet blossomed, he read every article under Michael’s byline. The Internet had been his savior, allowing him to keep an eye of sorts on the people he cared about. Cecilia and the senator were often in the news.

When Brian was born, Chris had wanted to tell everyone. But he couldn’t. Jamie and his parents would have wanted to see the boy. He’d have to return home, exposing himself to anyone and everyone. He never knew if the Ghostman was simply waiting for him to make an appearance. The Ghostman might have decided that it was time to eliminate the final witness. And what if the Ghostman saw he had a son?

He couldn’t let his son get onto the Ghostman’s radar.

He knew what the Ghostman did to boys. He relived it most nights.

The nightmares were less frequent now. Although they’d escalated since the bodies of the children were found. He doubted he’d had more than four hours of sleep any night since the children had been found. The nightmares were made up of old scenes and new. The new scenes were the worst because he wasn’t the boy in the Ghostman’s grip; the boy was Brian.

Eight months ago, he’d read about a ten-year-old boy who’d been attacked in a fast-food restroom. It was a single restroom where the main door locks. The father had tried to beat the door down when he heard his son screaming inside. A manager had to unlock the door. The boy went to the hospital, needing surgery for his stab wounds. The attacker had been a sexual predator, released early from prison for previous sexual crimes.

Chris had thrown up. And never let his son enter a public bathroom without a look-see first.

The attacked boy’s physical wounds would heal; the emotional wounds would last forever.

How was he going to make Michael understand?

Michael glanced at him as he talked on his cell phone. Over and over. Chris was doing the same. Studying the face, the bone structure, the hair, the mannerisms. The way his brother tipped his head, and his gaze darted about. Exactly like Brian does.

He went over to his truck, the driver’s door still opened. Brian had scooted over behind the steering wheel and was solemnly watching the two men.

“Who’s that?”

“That’s Michael.”

Brian tipped his head, studying the reporter. “Do you know him?”

Chris took a deep breath. “I do. But I haven’t seen him in a long time. Michael is my brother.”

Brian’s gaze darted to his father’s, eyes searching. “I thought you only had a sister.”

Why did I ever lie to my son?

Chris took both of Brian’s hands and squeezed them, holding that serious gaze. “I should’ve told you I had a brother, too.”

“Is he angry?”

Chris nodded. “He is. There were some things I didn’t tell him. Like I didn’t tell you. It wasn’t the right thing for me to do, and now he’s angry at me. He’s not mad at you.”

“Did he know about me?”

Chris closed his eyes. The plaintive tone in Brian’s voice ripped at his heart. He’d been so wrong to keep Brian from his family. “No. You’re a surprise. A good surprise. And as soon as he’s done being mad at me, he’ll be thrilled that he has a nephew.”

“He’s my uncle.” Brian tried out the word, and looked at Michael over Chris’s shoulder. “I think he’s done being mad.”

Chris gripped Brian’s upper arms and helped him jump down out of the truck. He took the boy’s hand and turned to face Michael. Michael had finished his call and was brushing at his eyes. The anger had vanished from his demeanor; his shoulders slumped.

Chris raised his chin. “This is Brian. Your nephew.”

A slow smile crossed Michael’s face as he looked at the boy. “Hey, Brian. How’s it goin’? Did you know you look just like your dad did when he was your age?”

Brian shook his head. “Nice to meet you, Uncle Michael,” he said in his best-manners voice that Chris had taught him.

Michael froze, and his jaw dropped the slightest bit. “Aw, darn it,” he whispered as fresh tears spilled from his eyes. He reached out and roughly pulled Chris to him in a bear hug. After a few brotherly slaps on Chris’s back, he reached out and ruffled Brian’s hair.

Chris wiped at the wetness on his own face.

Michael sat on the wooden steps to Chuck’s bed-and-breakfast, waiting for Sheriff Spencer, his mind still spinning over the events of the last thirty minutes. He was ready to jump out of his skin with worry for Jamie. Spencer had told him to stay put until he got there, so he was. Didn’t mean he had to like it. His brain was running wild with images of Jamie in the hands of a killer. Daniel…Chris sat beside him, and Brian was trying a balancing act on the low rail around the deck. Michael was trying to wrap his head around calling his brother Chris.

“Brian’s only heard me called Chris. I’ve called myself Chris in my head for almost twenty years.”