Chapter 2 - A Name Buried Four Years Ago
Richard did not respond immediately.
His wife, Victoria Harrison, had been dead for four years.
Her funeral had filled a cathedral. Political leaders, medical executives, and hundreds of employees from the Harrison Institute had attended. She had been praised as a pioneer in pediatric neurological research and a devoted mother who died during a laboratory fire.
Richard remembered standing beside Ethan’s wheelchair while the casket was lowered into the ground.
He remembered thinking grief was the worst thing a person could survive.
Now a seven-year-old stranger had accused that dead woman of murder.
“My wife died before you were old enough to remember her,” Richard said.
Lucy kept watching him.
“That’s what they told everyone.”
“What are you saying?”
The paramedic glanced between them but wisely said nothing.
Lucy pulled the sleeves of her denim jacket over her hands.
“I knew her as Doctor Vale.”
Richard’s chest tightened.
Victoria’s maiden name had been Vale.
Very few people outside the family knew it.
“When did you meet her?”
“At the white hospital.”
“The Harrison Institute?”
Lucy shook her head.
“It didn’t have a sign.”
Richard leaned closer.
“Where was it?”
“I don’t know. We traveled at night. The windows in the van were painted.”
Ethan groaned softly.
Richard turned instantly and took his hand.
“Dad?”
“I’m here.”
Ethan’s eyes opened only halfway.
“The girl…”
“She’s here too.”
Lucy moved closer to the stretcher.
Ethan looked at her through the oxygen mask.
“I heard you counting.”
“You’re supposed to rest.”
“You sound like my dad.”
For the first time, Lucy almost smiled.
Then Ethan whispered, “Did you see who pushed the cap into my mouth?”
The ambulance became silent.
Richard stared at his son.
“You were conscious?”
“Only for a second.”
“Who did it?”
Ethan’s brow tightened.
“A man in an airport uniform. He leaned over like he was fixing my wheel.”
“Could you identify him?”
“I didn’t see his face.”
Lucy gripped the edge of the bench.
“He had silver on his left hand.”
Ethan looked at her.
“How did you know?”
“I saw him before you fell.”
Richard’s phone, recovered by airport security and handed to a paramedic, began ringing.
The screen displayed the name Margaret Shaw.
Chairwoman of the Harrison Medical Foundation.
Victoria’s older sister.
Richard answered.
“Margaret.”
“Thank God. I heard about Ethan. Is he alive?”
“He’s stable for the moment.”
“I’m on my way to Mass General. Security told me there was some kind of cyberattack.”
Richard looked at Lucy.
“There was.”
Margaret lowered her voice.
“Richard, I need you to listen carefully. Do not speak to federal agents until our attorneys arrive.”
“Why?”
“The message on the airport screens included your name. Reporters are already connecting it to the institute scandal.”
The old scandal.
Four years ago, a whistleblower accused the institute of using undocumented children in experimental trials. The allegation surfaced on the same night as the laboratory fire that killed Victoria.
Most records were destroyed. The whistleblower vanished. The investigation collapsed from lack of evidence.
Richard had believed the accusations were retaliation from a dismissed employee.
Now Lucy sat three feet away carrying proof that at least one undocumented child had existed.
Margaret continued.
“Is anyone with you?”
“A girl.”
Lucy’s face changed when she heard that.
“What girl?” Margaret asked.
“The child who saved Ethan.”
Richard heard a small pause.
Then Margaret’s voice became unnaturally calm.
“What does she look like?”
“Why does that matter?”
“It doesn’t. I’m trying to understand what happened.”
Richard watched Lucy pull the hood of her jacket over her head.
“She’s seven. Brown hair. Purple backpack.”
The line went silent.
“Margaret?”
Her next words came slowly.
“Get that child away from Ethan.”
Richard’s fingers tightened around the phone.
“Why?”
“She may be dangerous.”
“She saved his life.”
“You don’t know what she is.”
Lucy flinched as though she could hear every word.
Richard stood as much as the moving ambulance allowed.
“What do you mean, what she is?”
Margaret exhaled.
“Richard, there are things Victoria kept from you because she believed she was protecting your family.”
“What things?”
“Not over the phone.”
“Is Victoria alive?”
Another silence.
That silence was an answer.
The ambulance entered the hospital loading area.
Margaret whispered, “Do not let the girl tell Ethan about Project Nightingale.”
The call ended.
Richard looked at Lucy.
“What is Project Nightingale?”
Lucy reached into her backpack and pulled out a folded sheet of paper.
It was a child’s drawing.
A row of beds stood beneath bright lights. Small figures lay strapped to them. A dark-haired woman in a white coat watched from behind a window.
May you like
At the bottom, written in red crayon, were six words.
NIGHTINGALE CHILDREN DO NOT GET PARENTS.
