Chapter 5 - The Man Who Died Twice
Samuel Vale had an obituary.
Ethan read it on Alvarez’s tablet inside a police interview room.
Dr. Samuel Adrian Vale, sixty-one, respected neuroscientist and former researcher at St. Matthew’s Hospital, died after a private plane crashed near Anchorage, Alaska.
No survivors.
No body identified individually because of fire damage.
The obituary was eight years old.
“He was declared dead based on passenger records?” Ethan asked.
“And recovered remains.”
“DNA?”
Alvarez looked grim.
“Apparently not.”
“You’re telling me a hospital researcher faked his death?”
“I’m telling you we found a recent photograph of a man who looks exactly like him.”
“With my mother-in-law.”
“Yes.”
“Then find him.”
“We’re trying.”
The search of Marlene’s home uncovered more than photographs.
Old medical files.
Audio cassettes.
Patient numbers.
Several disposable phones.
Sealed envelopes containing cash.
And a handwritten calendar.
Most entries were meaningless.
Single letters.
Dates.
Numbers.
But three entries mattered immediately.
R-17.
L-02.
E.C.
Rachel was R-17.
Lily, police feared, might be L-02.
And Ethan had little doubt what E.C. meant.
“What were they doing?” he asked.
Alvarez did not answer.
Instead, he showed Ethan a cassette.
A label was written across the plastic.
R-17 Session 6.
Ethan’s hands went cold.
“Did you listen?”
“Not yet. We need it processed.”
“That’s my wife.”
“It appears to be.”
“I want to hear it.”
“So do I.”
By afternoon, Rachel remembered Ethan’s first name.
Not their marriage.
Not their wedding.
Not their house.
But when he entered Room 417, she looked at him and said, “Ethan.”
He nearly cried.
“You remember me?”
“I remember your face.”
“From where?”
“A yellow truck.”
Ethan smiled despite himself.
His old truck had been yellow.
“The first time I picked you up for a date.”
Rachel stared at him.
“You brought flowers.”
“Sunflowers.”
“You hated the restaurant.”
“It was terrible.”
“You said the steak tasted like a shoe.”
Ethan laughed.
Rachel smiled.
Then she began crying.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For not remembering enough.”
He sat on the bed.
“You don’t owe me an apology.”
“What if it doesn’t come back?”
“Then I’ll introduce myself every morning.”
Her face collapsed.
He held her.
This time she did not hesitate.
Lily sat in the chair drawing.
After several minutes, Rachel looked toward her.
“Sweetheart?”
Lily raised her head.
Rachel swallowed.
“Did Mom scare you?”
Lily came to the bed.
“No.”
“I don’t remember some things.”
“I know.”
“Can you help me?”
Lily nodded seriously.
“You hate raisins.”
Ethan laughed.
Rachel looked offended.
“I do?”
“A lot.”
“What else?”
“You sing bad.”
“I do not.”
“You do.”
For a few minutes they were simply a family.
Then Rachel saw the evidence photograph lying partly beneath Ethan’s jacket.
The green door.
Her face changed.
“Where did you get that?”
Ethan followed her gaze.
“Police found it at your mother’s house.”
Rachel reached for it.
Her hand trembled.
“That’s me.”
“Yes.”
“That’s Aunt Claire.”
“You remember her?”
Rachel’s breathing accelerated.
“She wasn’t my aunt.”
Ethan stared.
“What?”
Rachel looked at him.
“I called her that.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
She studied the photograph.
“She used to count backward.”
“From what?”
“Ten.”
Rachel’s face emptied.
Then she whispered:
“Ten, nine, eight, seven... sleep.”
Ethan stood.
“Rachel?”
“She had a room.”
“What room?”
“The green room.”
Lily dropped her crayon.
Rachel stared at the photograph.
“There were children.”
Ethan felt his chest tighten.
“What children?”
“Numbers.”
“What happened there?”
Rachel shook her head.
“I can’t see it.”
“Don’t force it.”
“Marlene was there.”
“Your mother?”
Rachel suddenly looked terrified.
“She told them what I remembered.”
Ethan took her hand.
“What do you mean?”
“She told them what to erase.”
The monitor began screaming.
Rachel’s blood pressure spiked.
A nurse rushed in.
Dr. Nolan ordered Ethan and Lily out.
As Ethan entered the hallway, Alvarez was waiting.
His expression told Ethan something had happened.
“What?”
“We located Marlene’s car.”
“Where?”
“Parking garage near the river.”
“Was she there?”
“No.”
“What was inside?”
“Nothing except her phone.”
Ethan stared.
“She dumped it.”
“Looks that way.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes.”
Alvarez held up a photograph.
It had been sent to Marlene’s phone twenty minutes before she abandoned the vehicle.
The image showed Ethan and Lily entering St. Matthew’s that morning.
Someone had photographed them from across the street.
May you like
Beneath the image was one message.
YOU SHOULD HAVE FINISHED R-17 YEARS AGO.
