Chapter 7 - Saint Orison
Saint Orison Hospital stood behind a chain-link fence at the edge of the river district. Most of its windows were boarded. The maternity wing had burned during the scandal that closed it, leaving black stains above the fourth-floor windows.
Eleanor arrived alone.
At least, that was what Arthur was supposed to believe.
Marcus and Sienna entered through an underground service tunnel shown on old city plans. Julian remained outside with the flash drive, promising to transmit the ledger if Eleanor did not return in thirty minutes.
No one trusted him enough to believe the promise.
Eleanor carried the false certificate inside the metal case.
The lobby smelled of mold and wet plaster. Battery lamps marked a path toward the elevators. One elevator remained functional, its doors opening with a polished chime that felt obscene in the ruined building.
A note inside read Fourth floor.
Eleanor entered.
When the doors opened, she found a maternity ward preserved beneath plastic sheets. Empty bassinets lined the hall. Names were still written on faded whiteboards.
At the nurses' station, Arthur waited beside Brooke.
Brooke was thinner than the photograph suggested, but alive. A chain connected her ankle to a radiator. Arthur stood behind her with a pistol.
Eleanor and Brooke looked at each other for eleven months' worth of silence.
Brooke's lips trembled.
"You should not have come."
Eleanor placed the case on the counter. "You always say that after I arrive."
For the first time, Brooke almost smiled.
Arthur tapped the pistol against her shoulder. "Touching."
Eleanor looked at him. "Let her go."
"Open the case."
She did.
Arthur put on gloves and lifted the certificate beneath a portable ultraviolet lamp. The red security thread glowed.
His eyes narrowed.
"This is not the original."
"It is the only one I have."
He struck Brooke across the face.
Eleanor lunged, but he raised the gun.
"Again," he said. "Where is it?"
Brooke spat blood onto the floor. "She does not know."
Arthur crouched beside her. "You have protected her since childhood. Even when she was the reason your mother chose you second."
Eleanor saw pain flicker across Brooke's face.
"What does that mean?" Eleanor asked.
Brooke looked away.
Arthur smiled. "Your mother did not adopt one child. She purchased two identities. One for the witness's daughter. One for the decoy."
Eleanor's heart pounded.
"Which of us was the witness's daughter?"
"That is what the certificate reveals."
A speaker crackled overhead.
Sienna's voice filled the ward.
"Arthur, step away from her."
He looked up.
On the wall monitor, the ballroom footage began playing. Not the documents this time. A live feed from the wedding security system showed Arthur placing something beneath the gift table hours before the ceremony.
A second angle revealed him meeting Julian in a service corridor.
Arthur's confidence faltered.
Sienna continued. "You claimed the box surprised you. The footage says otherwise."
Arthur fired at the monitor.
The screen exploded.
Marcus emerged from the stairwell, weapon raised. Arthur grabbed Brooke and pulled her in front of him.
"Drop it, Detective."
Marcus did not move.
Brooke looked at Eleanor and then down at the chain around her ankle. Her fingers rested near a rusted floor vent.
Eleanor understood.
She threw the metal case toward Arthur.
He flinched.
Brooke ripped the loose vent cover free and drove its edge into his shin. Marcus fired. Arthur's gun flew from his hand. Eleanor crossed the distance and struck him with the case.
He fell against the nurses' station.
Sienna ran toward Brooke.
Then the building alarms activated.
A recorded voice announced, "Fire suppression system armed. Chemical release in three minutes."
Arthur laughed from the floor.
"This wing was never abandoned," he said. "It was sealed."
Marcus handcuffed him. "Where is the shutoff?"
Arthur looked at Brooke.
"Ask the child who survived the first fire."
Brooke's face went white.
She pointed toward the nursery.
"The oxygen vault."
They ran.
Inside the nursery, Eleanor found two brass valves behind a wall panel. One stopped the chemical system. The other controlled the fire doors. Both required keys.
Brooke removed a small blue thread from beneath the skin of her wrist.
Not ink. A surgically implanted fiber.
She inserted it into a narrow slot between the valves.
The panel opened.
Inside lay the original marriage certificate.
And beneath it, a photograph of Helena Vale standing beside Richard Bellamy and a third person whose face had been cut away.
May you like
On the back, Helena had written one sentence.
Only one twin is mine.
