Chapter 27The Man Who Took Me“My father took me?”The words came out barely above a whisper.Lucian stood motionless, the photograph still in his hand.“Yes,” he said. “That's what the evidence suggests.”“Evidence?” I snatched the photograph from him. “You show me a picture of a man whose face has been scratched out, tell me my dead father took me from a burning house, and call it evidence?”“I know how it sounds.”“No, you don't!”My voice echoed through the hotel room.For seven years, I had believed my father died protecting me. My mother had told me that story with tears in her eyes. I had carried it like the last piece of him I could still hold.Now Lucian was telling me that the man I mourned might have been the reason I disappeared.“Why do you have this photograph?” I demanded.“Because I took it.”I stared at him.“Explain.”“The night of the fire, I reached the car where you were trapped. My younger brother was already inside the burning building. I had seconds to choose.
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