Chapter 8 - Anna’s File
Natalie struck the sloped roof of the conservatory.
Glass shattered beneath her.
She slid across the metal frame and dropped through a broken panel into a bed of winter plants.
Pain exploded through her side.
Rebecca climbed through a lower window and reached her.
“Can you stand?”
“I don’t know.”
“You have to.”
Above them, Mark shouted for Calvin.
Rebecca pulled Natalie up.
They ran through the rear garden as the house alarm began to howl.
At the west wall, a narrow service gate stood open.
Rebecca had cut the chain.
They reached the green car seconds before the front gates closed.
A black vehicle appeared at the end of the road.
Calvin.
Rebecca drove through the service lane and into the woods.
Natalie pressed a cloth against the wound in her shoulder.
“You stole Anna’s file.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you get me out first?”
“Because this was the only chance.”
“You used me.”
Rebecca looked at her.
“I gave you a choice.”
“You told me to stay in that house.”
“And now you have evidence strong enough to keep them from dragging you back.”
“Unless we die before we use it.”
Rebecca took a narrow road toward Bellhaven.
“We are going to Ethan Cole.”
Natalie stared at her.
“He worked for them.”
“He tried to expose them.”
“The licensing board investigated him.”
“Because Diane blamed him when a patient nearly died.”
“Me?”
Rebecca nodded.
Natalie looked at the blood on her blouse.
“Why should I trust him?”
“You should not trust anyone completely. But Ethan has access to the hospital’s protected evidence system. Once the files are uploaded, Diane cannot erase them.”
Rebecca handed her Anna’s folder.
“Read.”
Natalie opened it.
The first page contained Anna Vale’s photograph and medical history. She had been twenty-eight when Marrow recruited her.
Stage one had begun with employment at a Mercer-owned clinic.
Stage two documented financial dependence after the clinic arranged for Anna’s mother to receive expensive cancer treatment.
Stage three listed her private marriage to Mark.
Stage four contained procedure dates.
Embryo transfer.
Immune suppression.
Behavioral compliance intervention.
Natalie stopped.
“What is compliance intervention?”
“Keep reading.”
The next pages contained diagrams of the human chest, upper arms, and thighs. Small red marks indicated insertion sites.
Needles.
Some were ordinary surgical steel.
Others were hollow microtubes designed to release medication over time.
Natalie touched the wound near her collarbone.
“Diane has been putting drugs inside me.”
“Possibly.”
“What kind?”
“Sedatives. Hormones. Compounds that cause fatigue, confusion, or emotional instability.”
Natalie remembered losing hours of time.
Waking with headaches.
Feeling unable to concentrate whenever she planned to leave.
She had blamed stress.
The final section of Anna’s file was incomplete.
One page listed severe bleeding, infection, and emergency extraction.
The next recorded fetal cardiac activity at eleven weeks.
Natalie stared at the line.
“Anna was pregnant.”
“Yes.”
“What happened to the baby?”
“The records say pregnancy terminated.”
“Do you believe that?”
“No.”
Natalie turned the page.
A handwritten note appeared in the margin.
Female infant viable.
Transfer authorized.
No death certificate.
No adoption record.
No name.
Only a code.
N.M. Protocol.
Natalie’s breath caught.
“My initials.”
“Not originally,” Rebecca said.
“What does N.M. mean?”
“We never learned.”
The car reached a quiet neighborhood behind Bellhaven Memorial Hospital.
Rebecca stopped outside a brick townhouse.
Ethan opened the door before they knocked.
He was older than in the photograph, with tired eyes and gray at his temples.
The moment he saw the blood on Natalie’s blouse, he pulled her inside.
“What happened?”
“Diane,” Rebecca said.
Ethan looked toward the street.
“Did anyone follow you?”
“I lost Calvin near the river.”
Ethan locked the door.
Natalie held up Anna’s file.
“You know what this is.”
His face tightened.
“Where did you get it?”
“Diane’s study.”
“Then she already knows you have it.”
“She tried to kill me.”
Ethan guided Natalie toward the kitchen table.
“I need to examine the wounds.”
“No hospital.”
“Not yet.”
He opened a medical case.
When he removed Natalie’s blouse from her shoulder, his expression changed.
“How many times has Diane used needles on you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Guess.”
“Twenty. Maybe more.”
Rebecca gripped the back of a chair.
Ethan shone a light over the newest wound.
“There’s something beneath the skin.”
“A broken needle?”
“No.”
He pressed gently around the area.
Natalie winced.
“What is it?”
“A capsule.”
“Can you remove it?”
“Yes, but not here.”
Natalie looked at Anna’s file.
“What does it contain?”
“I would need a lab.”
“Guess.”
Ethan hesitated.
“Based on the old protocol, it could be a slow-release hormone.”
Rebecca stared at him.
“She hasn’t had the procedure yet.”
Ethan’s face became grim.
“Then Friday isn’t the beginning.”
“What do you mean?” Natalie asked.
He looked directly at her.
“They have already started preparing your body.”
The lights in the townhouse went out.
A second later, the front window shattered.
A metal canister rolled across the floor.
White smoke poured from it.
Ethan grabbed Natalie.
“Back door.”
Someone kicked the front door open.
May you like
Through the smoke, Calvin’s voice filled the house.
“Mrs. Mercer, your husband wants you home.”
