Chapter 12 - The Truth Rachel Chose
Emily refused to believe it.
"My mother would never leave Oliver after hearing he was in the hospital."
Quinn said nothing.
"She wouldn't."
Nathan looked at the image again.
"Maybe she's being forced."
"Possibly," Quinn said.
Emily stared at her.
"You don't believe that."
"I don't know enough yet."
Emily paced the room.
"Where were they going?"
"North."
"Toward what?"
Quinn opened a map.
"Several towns."
"Which properties are connected to Lane Foundation?"
That question changed the agent's expression.
Emily noticed.
"There is one, isn't there?"
Quinn hesitated.
"A former medical retreat."
"Where?"
"Lake Arden."
Nathan stood.
"My mother has a cabin near Lake Arden."
Quinn looked at him sharply.
"Address?"
Nathan provided it.
Quinn immediately contacted another team.
Emily watched her.
"You didn't know about Helen's cabin?"
"We knew she owned recreational property. We hadn't linked it to the foundation."
"So Rachel could be going there."
"Maybe."
Nathan rubbed his forehead.
"This is insane."
Emily looked at him.
"No. This is organized."
That distinction frightened everyone.
Insane was unpredictable.
Organized meant someone had been planning for years.
Oliver fell asleep around two.
Emily sat beside him.
A hospital volunteer had delivered a small Christmas stocking.
Inside were crayons, a toy car, and chocolate.
The ordinary kindness nearly broke her.
Nathan sat across the room.
For several minutes, neither spoke.
Finally, he said, "I'm sorry."
Emily did not look at him.
"That sentence isn't large enough anymore."
"I know."
"You lied about the money."
"Yes."
"About your company."
"Yes."
"About your mother."
"Yes."
"You knew she planned something last night."
"Yes."
"You left Oliver with her anyway."
Nathan's voice cracked.
"Yes."
Emily looked at him.
"Do you understand that I might never forgive you?"
He nodded.
"I don't expect you to."
"Good."
"I just want him safe."
"So do I."
Nathan stared at their son.
"I used to think Mom was controlling because Dad never stood up to her."
Emily listened.
"Then Dad died, and I thought grief made her worse."
He rubbed his hands.
"I never considered that maybe Dad was afraid of her."
Emily remembered Richard.
Quiet.
Careful.
Always watching Helen before answering questions.
She had mistaken it for marriage habit.
Maybe it had been fear.
Nathan continued.
"Three weeks before he died, Dad called me."
"What did he say?"
"He asked if I had somewhere safe to keep documents."
Emily turned.
"You never told me."
"I thought he was talking about taxes."
"What happened?"
"He never brought them."
"How did he die?"
"Heart attack."
"Was there an autopsy?"
Nathan looked at her.
"No."
The room went very quiet.
Emily felt another piece move.
"Who found him?"
"My mother."
"Which doctor signed the death certificate?"
Nathan searched on his phone.
"I have a scan."
He opened the file.
Emily read the physician's name.
Dr. Samuel Kline.
Agent Quinn happened to reenter at that moment.
Nathan showed her.
Her face changed.
"You know him too," Emily said.
Quinn took the phone.
"Kline sat on Lane Foundation's medical board."
Nathan stared.
"My father's death..."
"We are not jumping to conclusions."
Emily stood.
"Someone almost killed my son because he remembered a room. I think we're past the point where conclusions are the dangerous thing."
Quinn did not argue.
Her phone rang.
She answered.
"Quinn."
She listened.
"Repeat that."
Everyone watched.
"Secure the property. Nobody enters alone."
She ended the call.
"The cabin?"
Quinn nodded.
"Agents found it empty."
Emily's heart sank.
"But there are signs someone was there within the last hour."
"Rachel?"
"We don't know."
"What did they find?"
Quinn hesitated.
"Burned documents in the fireplace."
Nathan cursed.
"And?"
"A phone."
Emily's pulse jumped.
"My mother's?"
"No."
Quinn placed an evidence photo on the table.
A black phone.
Cracked screen.
"Whose?"
"We traced the number."
Emily waited.
Quinn looked toward Nathan.
"It belonged to your father."
Nathan stared.
"That's impossible."
Richard had been dead five years.
Quinn continued.
"The phone made a call yesterday afternoon."
"To who?" Emily asked.
Quinn met her eyes.
"You."
Emily pulled out her phone.
"I never got a call."
"Not your current number."
"Then what number?"
Quinn read it.
Emily recognized the last four digits immediately.
Her childhood home.
The landline disconnected when James and Rachel sold the Vermont house twenty years ago.
"Who answered?"
"We don't know yet."
Emily sank into the chair.
Then Oliver woke suddenly.
He sat upright.
"Mommy."
She hurried to him.
"What's wrong?"
He looked toward the window.
"Grandpa."
Emily followed his gaze.
Snow fell beyond the glass.
No one was there.
"Sweetheart, what do you mean?"
Oliver pointed downward.
"Grandpa was downstairs."
Nathan stood.
"What?"
"When?"
"Before."
"Today?"
Oliver nodded.
Emily's heart hammered.
"Did you see him?"
Oliver shook his head.
"He talked to the nurse."
"What nurse?"
"The man nurse."
Nathan and Emily exchanged a look.
No male nurse had been assigned to Oliver.
Emily called the charge nurse.
Security footage was checked.
At 1:34 p.m., a man in hospital scrubs entered the pediatric floor.
He carried a badge.
He remained for six minutes.
No one remembered speaking with him.
His face was partially hidden by a surgical mask.
But when he turned toward the camera, Nathan whispered, "Oh my God."
May you like
The man's eyes were unmistakable.
Richard Moore's eyes.
