“Sir, I need to see—”

“She’s not going anywhere, I promise you that.”

William followed him into the kitchen, its white countertops and cabinets soaking in the hue of the light that poured from the front windows. Dr. Richards took out two glasses and hunched over, struggling a bit to lift something out of a bottom drawer.

“Can I help—?”

“My doctor said I need to move as much as possible. Helps the blood flow. Heart needs all the help it can get. Which is why,” he held up the long bottle with a musky brown color, “we need whiskey.”

He poured and slid a glass across the counter to where William stood. As William raised his glass, the man reached over and clinked his glass to it with a wink. “To your grandmother,” he said, tossing it back.

My grandmother. Who was taken, just like me. Who was returned, just like me. Who I just watched be interrogated by government agents, just as I was. And we both have something within us that could kill—

William swallowed the drink in one gulp, hoping Dr. Richards would refill the glass as quickly as possible.

“I’m guessing you have some questions?”

Let’s see … So everything I suspected about myself being a danger to my family is true? Why you, the central figure in my disappearance, would be in the same house with my great-grandmother, who is somehow still alive, despite that letter that seemed to indicate she was about to die?

“You’re him,” was all William could mutter.

“Well, I guess that depends on what you’ve heard. Steven Richards, the man who the FBI tried to say kidnapped and killed you fifteen years ago? Steven Richards, the mad scientist in the tinfoil hat? Anything else I’m missing?”

William scooted the glass across the granite countertop. “Another, please.”

“I’ll join you. But I’m serious, son. Anything else you know about me?”

The man’s eyes were a bit cloudy, perhaps from cataracts. His hands shook slightly as he poured them another round, but he did not spill. “All I ever knew is that my grandmother worked for you when she was young. And then you were cleared of the criminal charges and disappeared.”

Steven’s face looked a bit crestfallen, but he held up the glass one more time. “To your grandmother again. And her secrets.”

William took a long, slow drink, feeling the heat in his throat spill down to his chest. Steven set his glass on the counter. “I know this is a lot. It’s why she wanted to meet you. She could hardly wait. For obvious reasons—but she also wanted you to read the letters that she and your great-grandfather, along with Dr. Martin, wrote about Lynn’s disappearance. And also for you to see the recordings where you were both questioned. So you could start at the beginning and perhaps begin to understand how it’s all tied in to what’s happening now.”

“And what is that, exactly?”