Chapter 4 - THE DOCTOR WHO KNEW TOO MUCH
Helen Mercer did not behave like a kidnapper.
That bothered Natalie more than if she had.
The sixty-one-year-old physician raised both hands when Marcus entered Room 214.
She made no attempt to run.
Emily clung to her side.
“Please don’t scare her,” Helen said.
Marcus kept his weapon lowered but ready.
“Then start explaining.”
Helen looked at Natalie.
“Andrew told me you might come.”
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did he survive the truck crash?”
“Yes.”
Natalie’s chest tightened.
“Where did he go?”
Helen’s eyes dropped.
“If I tell you what I know, people will die.”
Marcus’s patience snapped.
“A seven-year-old spent a night alone during a flood. Another child has been hidden underground. Parker’s truck was full of blood. You’re past the point where silence protects anybody.”
Helen looked at Emily.
The girl was trembling.
Natalie knelt.
“Emily, I’m Natalie. Ashley is safe.”
Emily stared.
“Is she sick?”
“She’s getting better.”
“Does she still have Buddy?”
Natalie almost smiled.
“Yes.”
Emily covered her mouth and began crying.
Helen sat down slowly.
“They were born seven minutes apart.”
Ashley and Emily.
Twins.
Andrew and Rebecca’s daughters.
Yet every official record listed only one living child.
“What happened?” Natalie asked.
Helen stared at her hands.
“Ashley nearly died during delivery. Emily was healthy.”
“Then why erase Emily?”
“I didn’t.”
“Who did?”
Helen looked toward the hallway.
“The foundation.”
Hawthorne Family Health Foundation had operated the maternity clinic.
But according to Helen, the clinics hid another program.
It targeted financially vulnerable pregnant women.
Families facing addiction.
Homelessness.
Domestic violence.
Teen pregnancies.
The foundation presented itself as charity.
Behind closed doors, it arranged private placements.
Some legal.
Some questionable.
Some criminal.
Rebecca Parker had not been one of their vulnerable patients.
She had been a nurse.
And she discovered irregularities.
Birth records altered.
Infants declared deceased who were not.
Payments from wealthy families.
Private adoption agreements created after delivery.
“She tried to report it,” Helen said.
“To police?”
“To everyone.”
“What happened?”
“Her supervisor told her she was misunderstanding medical procedures.”
Helen laughed bitterly.
“She wasn’t.”
Then Rebecca became pregnant.
Twins.
One night, shortly after delivery, Emily disappeared from the nursery.
Andrew was told the second child had died.
Rebecca knew that was impossible.
“She saw Emily breathing before they took her.”
Natalie stared at the girl.
“How did Rebecca get her back?”
“She didn’t.”
Helen’s voice broke.
“I did.”
Emily looked at her.
Helen continued.
“I found where they’d moved the child. I helped Rebecca document everything. But before we could expose them…”
“Rebecca died,” Natalie said.
Helen nodded.
The official vehicle accident.
Mercer Bridge.
Natalie remembered Andrew’s sentence.
Rebecca never drove that road.
“Was she murdered?”
Helen’s silence answered first.
“We believed so.”
“By whom?”
“I never knew for certain.”
Marcus asked, “Why didn’t Andrew take Emily home?”
“Because whoever killed Rebecca was watching him.”
So Helen hid Emily.
First with another nurse.
Then with a retired couple.
Later in private schools under another name.
Andrew saw her rarely.
He told Ashley nothing.
He believed ignorance kept both girls alive.
“Until this week,” Helen said.
“What changed?” Natalie asked.
“Someone found Emily.”
Helen described a break-in at the home where Emily had been living.
Nothing stolen.
Except a photograph of Ashley.
Andrew panicked.
He brought Emily to Briarwood secretly.
Then received a call.
Someone demanded something Rebecca had hidden before her death.
“What?”
Helen looked at Natalie.
“The Ledger.”
Natalie frowned.
“What ledger?”
“A complete list of every child moved through Hawthorne’s clinics.”
“How many?”
Helen’s face went pale.
“Hundreds.”
Marcus swore under his breath.
“And Andrew has it?”
“No.”
“Who does?”
“Rebecca hid it.”
Natalie stared at her.
“Rebecca has been dead four years.”
“Yes.”
“Then how is Andrew supposed to find it?”
Helen looked toward the door marked 214.
“Because Rebecca left clues.”
The number 214.
Not just a room.
A key.
A pattern.
“What does 214 mean?” Natalie asked.
Helen whispered,
“February 14.”
Rebecca and Andrew’s wedding anniversary.
Natalie remembered the envelope.
Dated tomorrow.
August 11.
“Why did Andrew address an envelope to me?”
Helen’s eyes sharpened.
“He said you were the only officer at Rebecca’s crash who noticed something was wrong.”
Natalie felt her stomach drop.
“What did I notice?”
“You wrote in your original scene notes that the driver’s seat was too far back for Rebecca.”
Natalie remembered.
Barely.
She had noted it because Rebecca was five-foot-three.
The seat had been positioned for someone much taller.
That sentence had disappeared from the final accident report.
Natalie had assumed the detective omitted it as irrelevant.
Now she wondered who removed it.
A noise echoed overhead.
Marcus raised his weapon.
Footsteps.
Multiple.
Helen stood immediately.
“They found us.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
The underground lights shut off.
May you like
Emily screamed.
Then came the first gunshot.
