THE PREDATOR IN THE MIRROR THE RETURN

Анатолий Шигапов

THE PREDATOR IN THE MIRROR THE RETURN

THE PREDATOR IN THE MIRROR

THE RETURN

To my sister.

Since childhood, you've loved stories like this-dark, twisted, where a mystery lurks around every corner and the answer waits on the final page. You taught me not to fear the darkness, but to search for answers within it. You were my first reader, my harshest critic, and my warmest support.

This book is for you. Thank you for always believing.

From the Author

Dear Reader,

This story wasn't born from a desire to write a bestseller or from cold, calculated literary ambition. It was born from questions that each of us has asked ourselves in moments of silence: who are we? Where did we come from? What makes us a family-blood, or something more?

I've often thought about how little we truly know about those closest to us. We live side-by-side, breathe the same air, but inside each person is an entire universe we never suspect. Deep within, secrets are kept-fears, hopes, memories that no one ever shares. And sometimes those secrets break free, shattering everything we thought was unshakeable.

This book is about such secrets. About how the past catches up with us at the most unexpected moment. About how people we thought were lost return. About how hatred, absorbed since childhood, can turn into love. And about how hard-and how necessary-it is to forgive.

There were moments in my life when I felt utterly lost. When it seemed there was only darkness and not a single ray of light. And in those moments, I was saved by people. Not heroes from books, not fictional characters, but ordinary people-with their weaknesses, fears, doubts. They were just there. Holding my hand. Telling me everything would be okay. And I believed.

I tried to instill that belief in my characters. Alice, Lina, David, Miranda, Alex, Victor-they all carry a piece of those who once helped me. A piece of my family, my friends, my teachers. They make mistakes, they fall, they betray, but in the end, they find the strength to rise again. Because there are those beside them who will help them stand.

I don't want to teach you how to live. I don't know the right way. I only know that nothing matters more than feeling needed by someone. That there are people who will wait for you, even when the whole world turns away. That family isn't those you're bound to by blood, but those who are willing to shed their blood for you.

This book is full of pain. There is death, violence, betrayal. But there is also light. Because without light, there is no darkness. Because only by passing through hell can you appreciate heaven. Because only by losing do we begin to value what we have.

I wrote this story for those who have ever felt alone. For those who have lost loved ones and didn't know how to go on. For those searching for themselves and not finding. For those afraid of the dark, who didn't believe dawn would come.

It always comes. Always. Even when it seems the night will last forever. You just have to live until morning. Live and see the first rays of sun touch the treetops. Live and understand you are not alone.

If, after reading this book, you hug your loved ones-I will consider my mission accomplished. If you call someone you haven't heard from in a long time-I will be happy. If you forgive someone you couldn't forgive for so long-I will be proud.

And if you simply close the book and think about something important-then it was all worth it.

Thank you for being with me. Thank you for your time, your emotions, your life, which you shared with me on these pages.

Remember: as long as there are those who love you, you will never be truly alone.

With gratitude and hope,

Anatoly Shigapov

Chapter 1. One Year Later

«Time doesn't heal. That's the biggest lie we tell ourselves to survive. Time just hides the pain deep under the skin, where it pulses, waits, gathers strength. And then, when you least expect it, when you've almost convinced yourself it's all over, it bursts out-and tears you apart all over again.»

From the diaries of Special Agent Alice Wood

New York greeted the morning with its usual gray sky. The rain had been drizzling for three days straight, turning the streets of Manhattan into endless mirrored corridors reflecting taxi lights, storefront windows, the faces of passersby hurrying about their business. The city lived its own life-loud, bustling, indifferent. The city didn't notice that for one person, time had stopped exactly one year ago.

Alice sat in her office in the federal building in Lower Manhattan, staring blankly ahead. An open case file lay before her-another kidnapping, another missing child, another family whose life had shattered in an instant. A year ago, she would have attacked it with fury, with desperation, with that uncanny ability to climb into a criminal's mind that made her the best profiler in the department.

Today, she just stared at the photo of a little girl with pigtails and felt nothing. Emptiness. A cold, scorched emptiness inside.

«Alice.» Marty appeared in the doorway with two cups of coffee. He always appeared just like that-unexpectedly, but right on time. «You didn't sleep again?»

«I slept,» she answered, taking the coffee. Her hands trembled slightly. «Four hours. Luxury.»

«Four hours isn't luxury, it's a disaster.» Marty sat down across from her, studying her face intently. «You look like a ghost. When did you last eat?»

«Yesterday, I think.»

«Alice, you can't do this. I know it's hard, but…»

«Marty,» she interrupted, «back off. Please. I'm working.»

He sighed but didn't argue. Over the year, he'd gotten used to these conversations. Used to her detachment, her silence, the way the department's best agent had turned into a shadow of herself. The higher-ups looked the other way-Alice Wood meant too much to the FBI to be written off for «temporary difficulties.» But Marty knew: if this continued, she wouldn't last much longer.

«Alright,» he said, getting up. «I'll be downstairs if you need me. And Alice… maybe see a doctor? Not our guy, a real one?»

«I will,» she lied.

He left, and Alice stared out the window again. Rain streaked down the glass in murky rivulets, blurring the city's outlines. She thought about how exactly one year ago, on this very day, she'd sat on a park bench and watched Lina disappear into the gray haze. A year. A whole year of silence.

No letter, no call, no sign. Lina, Miranda, Alex-all gone, dissolved like morning fog. Sometimes at night, Alice would wake up screaming-dreaming they were dead, that Harrison had found them and killed them, that she'd never see them again. And sometimes she dreamed of David. He'd be standing on the swings in the old garden, smiling, and then the swing would break, and he'd fall into the fire.

She kept his note in her breast pocket, pressed against her heart. The paper was worn at the folds, the words almost erased, but she knew them by heart: «I love you all. Take care of each other.» They hadn't. They'd scattered in different directions like cockroaches fleeing the light.

Suddenly, the phone on her desk buzzed. Alice looked at the screen-an unfamiliar number, encrypted, with an international code she didn't recognize. Her heart skipped a beat. She grabbed the receiver.

«Hello?»

Silence. Then a quiet, barely audible whisper:

«Alice… it's me.»

She caught her breath. Lina.

«Lina? Oh God, Lina! Where are you? Are you alive? Are you okay?»

«Quiet,» her sister's voice was tense, frightened. «Don't speak loudly. I can't talk long. Listen carefully.»

«Yes, yes, I'm listening.»

«He's back.»

«Who?» Alice asked, though she already knew the answer.

«Harrison. He found us. Found Miranda. We're in danger. I don't know what to do.»

«Where are you?»

«Don't ask. It's safer this way. But we need to meet. There's a place. Do you remember the old house? The one that burned down?»

«Yes.»

«Near there, there's a forest ranger's lodge. Father built it for hunting long ago. It's still standing. Come in three days, at sunset. And don't tell anyone. If Harrison finds out…»

«I understand. Lina…»

«What?»

«I missed you. I missed you so much.»

A sniffle came from the other end of the line.

«Me too, sister. Me too.»

The connection ended.

Alice sat for a long time, holding the phone to her ear, listening to the dial tone. Then she slowly placed it back on the receiver. Her hands were shaking so badly she had to clench them into fists.

Harrison was back. And her sister was calling her.

She stood up, walked to the window. The rain had stopped, and a weak ray of sun was breaking through the clouds. For the first time in a long while, Alice felt something like hope ignite inside her.

She would find them. She would protect them. Whatever it cost.

Chapter 2. A Grave Without a Name

«Cemeteries are strange places. They are full of silence, but in that silence, you can hear the voices of all who have ever left. They are full of peace, but beneath every stone beats the pulse of unfinished stories. I stood before the grave of the man I thought was my father, and suddenly understood: death is not the end. It's only the beginning of a new lie. And when the ground beneath your feet starts to move, when skeletons you yourself buried in your memory crawl out from under the headstones, all you can do is run. Or stand and fight.»

From the diaries of Special Agent Alice Wood

Seconds stretched endlessly, like molten sugar hardening into bizarre shapes. Lina looked at Alice as if she'd spoken in a foreign language-perhaps a dead one, the language spoken only by ghosts. Her eyes widened impossibly, pupils flooding her irises, turning her eyes into two black pools. Her face grew even paler than a moment before-if that were possible-and she slowly, as if in a dream, sank to the floor, leaning her back against the cold log wall.

«What did you say?» she repeated in a whisper. Not a voice-just breath, air barely escaping her lungs. «Our father? Philip Novak? He died in the fire fifteen years ago. I saw his body. We all saw it. I stood right there when they buried him. I threw dirt on the coffin. I smelled the wet clay and my own despair. It can't be.»

«You saw what they showed you.» Alice sat beside her, taking her sister's hands. Lina's fingers were icy, like a corpse's, and Alice squeezed them tighter, trying to transfer some warmth. «Harrison staged his death. Used another body, destroyed the documents, covered his tracks. It wasn't hard-in the chaos of the fire, the smoke, the confusion. Who would check? Who would doubt? The head doctor of the clinic said Novak was dead-so it must be true. But Father was alive all that time. Hiding. Waiting.»

«Waiting?» Lina shook her head, the movement so slow, so mechanical, as if she were trying to shake off a hallucination. «For what? What was he waiting for fifteen years? For us to rot in basements? For Simon to go insane with loneliness and start writing books about death? For me to be shot full of tranquilizers and electroshock? What was he waiting for, Alice? Tell me!»

Her voice cracked into a scream, but it wasn't a scream-it was the howl of a wounded animal finally finding the strength to speak. Alice pulled her close, feeling her thin body shake.

«Not for that,» she whispered, stroking her sister's hair. «He was hiding too. Harrison was hunting him. If he'd come out of the shadows, he would have been killed. And us along with him. You think it was easy for him? You think he didn't want to run to you, to hug you, to save you? He did. But he couldn't.»

«How do you know?» Lina pulled back, looking at her with feverish eyes. «Where did you even get this? Who told you? Harrison? He's a master of lies. Maybe it's another one of his games?»

«I met him.» Alice said it quietly, but each word fell into the silence like a stone into water, sending out ripples impossible to stop. «A year ago. After you left. I was in such bad shape I couldn't work, couldn't sleep, couldn't eat. Marty made me see a psychiatrist. He found a specialist, said he was the best in the city. I went to an office on the Upper East Side, sat in a chair, and saw him.»

Lina froze. Her breathing stopped. Even the fire in the stove seemed to stop crackling.

«You saw him?» she whispered. «Talked to him? Touched him?»

«Yes. He called himself Dr. Freeman. Said he specialized in post-traumatic syndrome, working with people who had survived violence. I sat there and told him about my nightmares, my dreams, the voices. And he listened and looked at me with those eyes… I didn't recognize them then. I just thought he was an attentive doctor. But then, when I was leaving, I saw a photo on his desk.»

«A photo?» Lina echoed.

«Yes. You and me on the porch. Little. You're sitting with your arm around my shoulders, smiling. And next to us is a boy. A little older. With the same eyes as his. It was him, Lina. As a child. I looked at that picture and couldn't breathe.»

«And you didn't tell me?» Lina pulled away from her embrace, moved back. Something new appeared in her eyes-not pain, not despair, but something cold and heavy, like a tombstone. «A whole year you were silent? Knew our father was alive, that he was somewhere nearby, watching us-and said nothing?»

«I didn't know how.» Alice turned away, hiding her eyes. «I couldn't believe it myself. Thought I was going crazy, that it was a hallucination, that my memory was playing cruel tricks. I went back to that office the next day-it was gone. The neighboring offices were empty, the sign removed, no one knew anything. As if he'd never existed.»

«Or he'd hidden again.»

«Or he'd hidden again,» Alice agreed. «But then, when you disappeared, when I was alone, I started searching. Went through all the archives, all the databases, all the old case files. And I found it. Philip Novak didn't die in 2005. He changed his name, his documents, his appearance. Lived in different cities, worked as a psychologist, helped people. All that time, he was nearby. Watching us. Knowing our every move.»

«How do you know he was watching?» Lina squinted.

«Because I found proof. Photos, reports, records. He hired people to watch you in the clinic, David in New York, me. Miranda when she was found. Alex when he was hiding. He knew everything. He was waiting.»

«For what?»

«For the right moment. When Harrison would be weak, when we'd be ready. When he could help without putting us in danger.»

Lina closed her eyes. Tears streamed down her cheeks-large, heavy, slow. They fell onto her lap, onto the floor, and in the silence of the lodge, their drops sounded like heartbeats.

«So I have a father again,» she whispered. Her voice was hollow, like from a deep well. «And I don't even know whether to be glad or hate him. Because if he'd come out earlier… if he hadn't hidden… maybe David would be alive. Maybe I wouldn't have spent ten years in that hell. Maybe everything would be different.»

«And maybe we'd all be dead,» Alice answered quietly. «You think Harrison would have let us live if he'd known Father was nearby? He would have destroyed everyone. Without hesitation.»

«I don't know what to think.» Lina opened her eyes, looked at her sister. «I don't know what to feel. Inside, there's such emptiness… such weight… It's like I'm back in that basement, alone again, waiting for death again.»

«You're not alone.» Alice took her hands. «Hear me? You're not alone. We're together. And we'll find him. We'll ask him. We'll learn the truth. And then we'll decide what to do.»

«And if the truth is too terrible?»

«It was already terrible. We survived it. We'll survive this too.»

They sat in silence, each digesting the news that turned everything upside down. The lodge was cold, and Alice threw more wood into the small stove. The fire crackled, casting dancing shadows on the walls, and those shadows seemed alive-they moved, breathed, watched.

«Where is he now?» Lina asked, staring at the fire.

«I don't know. After that meeting, I tried to find him, but the office was closed and Dr. Freeman vanished. As if he'd never existed. I checked all the morgues, all the hospitals, all the police stations. Nothing.»

«Or he hid again.»

«Or he hid again,» Alice agreed. «But I think he's somewhere nearby. He knows about Harrison. He knows we're here. And he'll appear. He'll definitely appear.»

«What makes you so sure?»

«Because he always appeared. When we were in danger, when death threatened us, when we lost hope-he was there. We just didn't know it.»

Lina was silent, considering her words. Then she slowly nodded.

«Maybe you're right. But now's not the time for him. We need to find Miranda and Alex. And get out of here before Harrison finds us.»

«Are they somewhere safe?» Alice asked.

«Yes. Twenty miles from here, in an old cabin in the mountains. I didn't want to risk bringing everyone here. If Harrison finds this place, at least he won't find them.»

«You did right. We'll go for them at dawn.»

«And tonight?»

«Tonight, we wait. And prepare.»

The night passed uneasily. Alice barely slept, listening to every rustle outside the wall. The wind howled in the chimney, branches scraped the windows, somewhere an owl hooted-and every sound seemed like a threat, the approach of something inevitable and terrible.

Lina dozed but also jerked in her sleep, muttering, curling into a ball as if trying to protect herself from an invisible enemy. Alice watched her and thought about how much pain that thin body contained. Ten years of silence, ten years of loneliness, ten years of waiting for death. And now, when it seemed all was over, the past returned to remind them of itself.

Around three in the morning, Alice finally fell into a heavy, dreamless sleep-deep, black as pitch. But she didn't sleep long. She was awakened by a sharp sound-the crack of a twig under a heavy foot. She sprang up instantly, drawing the pistol that had lain beside her on the floor.

Lina was already at the window, pressed against the wall, peering through the gap between the shutters.

«Someone's out there,» she whispered without turning.

Alice crept to another window, carefully looked outside. Moonlight flooded the clearing in front of the lodge with a silvery glow, making the night almost transparent. At the edge of the forest, in the shadow of an old oak, stood a figure in a dark cloak. The person didn't move-just stood and stared straight at the house.

«He found us,» Lina breathed.

«Wait here,» Alice ordered. «And don't show yourself. No matter what happens.»

«Alice, no!» Lina grabbed her arm. «It could be a trap.»

«It could be. But if it's Harrison, I have to stop him. Here and now.»

She pulled free, silently opened the door, and slipped outside. The night air was cold and fresh, smelling of damp leaves and smoke-from the lodge or a distant campfire. Alice moved toward the figure, trying to step silently, her finger on the trigger.

The distance closed slowly. Ten meters, eight, five. The figure didn't move, and that was the most terrifying thing. It was waiting. It knew Alice would approach.

And when only three steps remained to the oak, the moon emerged from behind a cloud, illuminating the stranger's face.

The pistol wavered in Alice's hands. She froze, not believing her eyes.

Before her stood her father. Older, gaunter, with a gray beard and deep wrinkles cutting his face like the beds of dried-up rivers. But it was him-the man from the photograph, the one she'd seen in the office a year ago, the one she'd thought dead for fifteen years.

«Hello, daughter,» he said quietly. His voice was hoarse, but it held so much warmth that Alice's knees went weak. «I knew you'd be here. I was waiting.»

«Why did you come?» she asked, her voice breaking. «After everything, after so many years… why?»

«To save you.» He stepped closer, and Alice saw he was limping, leaning on a cane. «Harrison is already here. He knows about this place. In an hour, there will be a dozen armed men here. We need to leave. Immediately.»

«Why should I believe you?» Alice didn't lower the pistol. «You abandoned us. You disappeared. You let us suffer.»

«Because I'm your father,» he answered simply. «Because I love you. Because we have no other choice. If you want to kill me-shoot. But first, save your sister.»

At that moment, the door of the lodge burst open, and Lina appeared on the threshold. Seeing the man, she froze, then slowly, as if in a dream, walked toward him, stumbling over roots and stones.

«Dad?» Her voice was thin, childlike, like a little girl lost in the woods. «Dad, is that you?»

«Lina…» He reached out his hands to her, tears streaming down his cheeks. «My girl… forgive me. Forgive me for not protecting you. Forgive me for not being there. Forgive me.»

Lina rushed to him, and they embraced. Alice stood aside, watching the scene, feeling her heart shatter inside. Too much pain, too many lies, too many years of loneliness. And suddenly she understood: all this time, she hadn't hated her father-she'd hated her own helplessness, her inability to change anything. He was just surviving. Like them.

«We need to go,» Father said, pulling back. «Now. The car is in the woods, two hundred meters from here. I'll take you to Miranda and Alex.»

«How do you know about them?» Alice asked, lowering the pistol.

«I know everything,» he answered, looking her straight in the eye. «All these years, I've been watching you. Knew your every move, every danger, every joy. I was waiting for the moment I could help. And now that moment has come.»

«Why not sooner?»

«Because sooner I was powerless. Harrison was too strong, he had people everywhere. Any attempt I made to get close to you could have cost you your lives. I had to wait.»

«And you waited fifteen years?»

«And I waited fifteen years,» he nodded. «Every day, every night. Thought of you, prayed for you, hoped you would survive. And you did. You're stronger than you think.»

Behind them, from the direction of the lodge, shots suddenly rang out-sharp, cracking, tearing the night silence. Shouts, pounding feet, the crack of branches.

«They're here!» Father shouted. «Quick!»

They ran into the forest, toward where an old jeep was hidden in the thicket. Branches whipped their faces, their feet sank into wet grass, but fear drove them forward. Behind them, shots and cries-the attackers were already at the lodge.

«This way!» Father called, pointing to a clearing between the trees.

They burst into a small clearing where an old SUV stood, camouflaged with branches. Father jumped behind the wheel, Alice and Lina into the back seat. The engine started instantly, and the vehicle lurched forward, bouncing over roots and rocks.

In the rearview mirror, Alice saw the lodge burst into bright flame. Fire shot toward the sky, illuminating the forest with an ominous orange glow. And against that fire, dark figures darted-Harrison's men, left with nothing.

«They won't stop,» Lina said, looking back.

«They won't,» Father agreed. «But we have a head start. And a plan.»

«What plan?» Alice asked.

«You'll see.» He looked at her in the mirror, and in his eyes was something she'd never seen before-hope.

The car plunged deeper into the forest, carrying them away from danger, from the past, from everything they'd known. Ahead lay uncertainty. But for the first time in years, Alice felt she wasn't alone. Beside her were those worth fighting for.

Chapter 3. Family Council

«Family isn't those you're bound to by blood. It's those you'd die for. And those who'd die for you. We sat in a cramped forest cabin, five people broken by life, but bound by something stronger than any bond. And for the first time in years, I felt what it meant to be home.»

From the diaries of Special Agent Alice Wood

The jeep tore through the undergrowth, bouncing over ruts and roots. Father sat behind the wheel, peering intently into the darkness lit only by the dim headlights. Beside him, in the passenger seat, Lina stared unblinkingly at his profile, as if trying to memorize every feature, every wrinkle, every strand of gray in his hair. Alice sat in the back, gripping her pistol and glancing at the rear window-watching for the flash of pursuing headlights among the trees.