Chapter 7 - The Name Beneath the Paint
Valeria spent the next two days under police protection.
News of Daniel Mercer’s arrest spread through Briarwood.
The public version of the story was simple.
A father had interfered with his daughter’s emergency treatment.
A private company was being investigated for improper medical practices.
No one mentioned the photographs.
No one mentioned the false adoption agency.
No one mentioned that Valeria might have been created as part of a research program.
Novagen issued a statement denying any connection to Meridian Reproductive Systems.
Grant Holloway resigned from the company board and disappeared before police could question him.
His house was empty.
His bank accounts had been cleared.
His private aircraft had never filed a flight plan, but airport cameras captured it taking off the night Valeria entered the hospital.
There were four passengers.
Holloway was not one of them.
Dr. Vale was.
Daniel remained in county custody.
He refused to speak except through a legitimate attorney.
Elena entered a protected residence.
Valeria refused to go with her.
The hospital arranged for Simone Reyes to remain involved until a safe placement could be found.
Mia visited every afternoon.
She brought school notes, fruit Valeria could not eat and stories from classmates who suddenly claimed they had always believed her.
“I hate them,” Valeria said.
“The classmates?”
“The people who say they believed me.”
Mia sat beside the bed.
“They’re trying to feel less guilty.”
“I don’t need their guilt.”
“What do you need?”
Valeria looked at the photograph of Celeste.
“The truth.”
Mia followed her gaze.
“You really think she was at the lake house?”
“I heard her voice.”
“What if it was another memory they planted?”
Valeria had considered that.
The phrase written in the church basement would not leave her mind.
Seven was never the patient.
If she was not the patient, who was?
On the third evening, Detective Bell returned with evidence from the church.
Beneath the painted message, forensic technicians discovered older writing.
Someone had covered it with multiple layers of white paint.
The original words had been scratched into the concrete.
Bell showed Valeria a photograph.
MY NAME IS NOT CELESTE.
Valeria read it twice.
“What was beneath that?”
Bell handed her another image.
A series of dates.
The earliest was seventeen years ago.
The latest was six weeks ago.
Beside each date was the same sentence.
SHE TOOK MY PLACE.
“Who wrote it?” Valeria asked.
“We found fingerprints.”
“Whose?”
“Yours.”
Valeria felt the room tilt.
“That’s impossible.”
“The prints are partial, but the points of comparison are strong.”
“I’ve never been inside that church.”
“Do you remember ever waking in a basement?”
“No.”
“Do you remember painting a wall?”
“No.”
Mia leaned forward.
“Could someone else have the same fingerprints?”
Bell glanced at her.
“Identical twins can have very similar genetic profiles, but fingerprints are not identical.”
Valeria looked at the photograph again.
“Then I was there.”
“Possibly.”
“What does ‘she took my place’ mean?”
“We don’t know.”
Bell removed another evidence bag.
Inside was a small metal tag found beneath the hospital bed.
The tag displayed two engraved characters.
V-0.
Valeria stared at it.
“There was a zero.”
Bell nodded.
“Before the seven girls in the photographs.”
“Was she the original?”
“That is one theory.”
“Do you have a name?”
“No official name.”
“What do the records call her?”
Bell hesitated.
“Source material.”
Mia made a disgusted sound.
“She was a person.”
“To the researchers, she may not have been treated as one.”
Valeria reached for the tag.
Bell kept it inside the bag.
“Where is Zero?”
“We don’t know.”
“Is she alive?”
“We don’t know.”
“Does she look like me?”
“We found no photograph.”
Valeria leaned back, exhausted.
Bell’s voice softened.
“There is something else.”
He placed an enlarged photograph from the lake house on the table.
It showed seven girls standing in a laboratory hallway.
The picture was blurry.
Their faces were partially turned away.
Valeria recognized herself at age twelve.
She also recognized the girl beside her.
Mia.
Valeria slowly turned toward her friend.
Mia’s face had gone white.
“No,” Mia whispered.
Bell placed a second photograph beside the first.
Mia, approximately six years old, lying on a medical examination table.
The broken-circle symbol had been drawn on her wrist.
Valeria stared at her.
“You were there.”
“I don’t remember.”
“You told me you grew up in California.”
“I did.”
Bell looked at Mia.
“Your school records begin when you were seven.”
Mia stood.
“My mother has pictures of me as a baby.”
“We reviewed some of them.”
“What do you mean, some?”
“The earliest image that can be independently dated shows you at age seven.”
Mia stepped away from the bed.
“No.”
Valeria remembered every time Mia had believed her.
Every time Mia had appeared at exactly the right moment.
Every message she sent before Valeria discovered evidence.
Every question she asked.
“Did you know?” Valeria whispered.
Mia began crying.
“No.”
“Did you take my phone?”
“No.”
“Did you tell them I was going to the hospital?”
“No!”
Bell moved between them.
“Mia, we need to speak with your parents.”
“My mother is at work.”
“We already went to your home.”
Mia stared at him.
“Where is she?”
“The house was empty.”
“She works until six.”
“Your neighbors saw her leave with luggage yesterday.”
Mia pulled out her phone.
She called.
The number had been disconnected.
A message appeared before she could try again.
Unknown sender.
Mia opened it.
A single photograph filled the screen.
Her mother sat bound to a chair.
Behind her stood Dr. Vale.
May you like
Below the photograph was a sentence.
BRING SEVEN TO THE FIRST HOUSE, OR YOUR MOTHER BECOMES THE NEXT DONOR.
