Chapter 4 - The Woman in the Parking Garage
The following morning, Natalie pretended nothing had happened.
She served coffee.
She apologized for refusing the appointment.
She even signed the first page of the consent packet when Diane placed it in front of her.
Mark smiled for the first time in days.
“I knew you’d be reasonable.”
Natalie looked at him.
“Can I use the car to buy something appropriate for Friday?”
Diane answered before Mark could.
“I’ll take you.”
“I wanted to surprise you.”
Mark’s smile deepened.
Diane studied Natalie for a moment.
“What are you buying?”
“A dress.”
“You own dresses.”
“Not one you like.”
Flattery worked on Diane only when it confirmed something she already believed.
The older woman leaned back.
“Take the sedan. Be home by three.”
Natalie thanked her.
The moment the gate closed behind her, she drove in the opposite direction from the shopping district.
She parked at the public library and used a computer on the second floor.
Her secret email had been emptied. The account settings showed no successful login besides her own, yet the files were gone.
Someone had accessed the provider directly or intercepted the messages before they arrived.
Natalie created a new account and printed the photograph of Diane’s schedule from her phone.
Then she searched Ethan Cole.
He was now the head of emergency medicine at Bellhaven Memorial. His public biography contained no mention of the Mercer Foundation study.
Natalie found an old licensing-board notice from eleven years earlier.
Ethan had been questioned regarding irregular patient-consent procedures during a privately funded reproductive-health trial.
No disciplinary action had been taken.
The complainant’s name was sealed.
Natalie printed the notice.
A woman sat at the computer beside her.
She appeared to be in her late forties, with dark hair cut at her jaw and a thin scar beneath her left ear.
“You should not print that here,” the woman said.
Natalie turned slowly.
“Excuse me?”
“The library logs every page.”
The woman did not look at her. She continued typing.
“Who are you?”
“My name won’t help you.”
“Did you send the email?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know what I’m doing?”
The woman finally looked over.
Her eyes were gray.
The same cold shade as Diane’s.
“You are driving Diane Mercer’s sedan. You entered a library instead of a boutique. You searched a doctor connected to Marrow Health. You are not difficult to follow.”
Natalie stood.
The woman caught her wrist.
“Do not make a scene.”
“Let go.”
“I am trying to keep you alive.”
Natalie froze.
The woman released her.
“Collect your pages,” she said. “Leave through the west stairwell. Walk to the parking garage across the street.”
“Why should I trust you?”
“You shouldn’t.”
The woman turned back to the computer.
“But Diane will receive a notification from the vehicle system in less than four minutes.”
Natalie looked through the window toward the street.
A black sedan had parked behind Diane’s car.
A man stepped out.
He wore a dark suit and held a phone to his ear.
Natalie gathered the printed pages.
“What’s in the garage?”
“An answer.”
“Whose answer?”
The woman’s fingers stopped moving over the keyboard.
“Your mother’s.”
Natalie stared at her.
“My mother is dead.”
“No,” the woman said. “That is only what they taught you to remember.”
Natalie left through the west stairwell.
She crossed the street without running.
The parking garage smelled of oil and rain. Her footsteps echoed between concrete pillars.
On level three, an old green car waited near the ramp.
The driver’s door opened.
A thin woman with white hair stepped out.
Natalie stopped.
The woman gripped the top of the door as though she needed it to remain standing.
For several seconds, neither of them spoke.
Then the woman said, “You still pull at your left sleeve when you’re frightened.”
Natalie looked down.
Her fingers were twisting the fabric near her wrist.
She let go.
“Who are you?”
The woman’s eyes filled with tears.
“My name is Rebecca Ellis.”
Natalie’s heart pounded.
“That was my mother’s name.”
“I know.”
“My mother died in a car accident when I was six.”
“No.”
The woman opened the passenger door.
“Your father died in that accident.”
Natalie took a step back.
“My mother was in the car.”
“I was supposed to be.”
A vehicle entered the garage below them.
Tires squealed on concrete.
Rebecca’s face tightened.
“We have to go.”
Natalie remained where she was.
“Prove it.”
Rebecca reached beneath her collar and pulled out a chain.
A small brass key hung from it.
Natalie recognized it immediately.
As a child, she had owned a wooden music box painted with white birds. After her mother’s death, the box had been given to an aunt. Natalie never saw it again.
Only one key could open it.
The key around Rebecca’s neck.
A black car turned onto level three.
The man from the library sat behind the wheel.
Rebecca grabbed Natalie’s hand.
“Get in.”
Natalie did.
The green car shot toward the exit ramp.
Behind them, the black sedan accelerated.
Rebecca reached into the glove compartment and handed Natalie a brown envelope.
“Open it.”
Inside was a photograph of Natalie at nineteen, asleep in a hospital bed.
Diane stood beside her.
Mark stood at the foot of the bed.
May you like
And on the back, someone had written a date.
Three years before Natalie believed she had first met her husband.
