Chapter 4 - The Music Box in the Fire
The apartment building where Alex and Mariana had once lived was now a luxury condominium with polished stone walls and a doorman who did not remember the fire.
But the building superintendent did.
His name was Tomas Ruiz, and he had been twenty-three when the third-floor apartment burned. He met Alex in the basement laundry room after midnight, away from the building’s cameras.
“I knew someone would come back,” Tomas said.
“Why?”
“Because the firemen found two ignition points. The report listed one.”
Daniel stood near the door while Samuel recorded the conversation.
Tomas unlocked a rusted cabinet and removed a soot-blackened metal box.
“Your wife gave this to my mother three days before the fire. She said if anything happened, keep it away from anyone named Mercer.”
Alex stared at him.
“And you are giving it to me.”
“My mother is dead. I am tired of being afraid.”
Inside the metal box lay the remains of the cedar music box. Its lid was scorched. The painted roses Mariana had loved were nearly gone.
The brass key turned with difficulty.
The mechanism played four broken notes, then stopped.
Samuel examined the interior.
“There is a false bottom.”
Beneath it they found a hospital bracelet, a dried blood sample card, three photographs, and a microcassette wrapped in plastic.
The bracelet read Baby Boy Mercer.
The blood card carried a handwritten code: GXM-4417.
One photograph showed Mariana holding a newborn. Another showed the same baby beneath a warming lamp. The third showed two infants side by side.
Alex leaned closer.
Both wore bracelets with Mariana’s name.
“One was used to replace the other,” Samuel said.
Daniel found an old cassette player in the superintendent’s office. The tape hissed, then a woman began speaking.
“My name is Evelyn Shaw. I am a neonatal nurse at Mercer Memorial Hospital. On January twelfth, I witnessed the removal of a living male infant from Room N-6. The infant belonged to Mariana and Alexander Mercer. A second infant, deceased approximately six hours, was placed in his bassinet.”
Alex gripped the table.
Evelyn continued.
“The order came from Eleanor Mercer and Dr. Adrian Kessler. They said the living child carried a hereditary condition and required private treatment. I later learned that no such treatment was authorized. The child was transported through the service tunnel to the old research wing.”
A door opened on the recording.
Evelyn’s breathing changed.
“If I disappear, look beneath St. Orison. James Mercer is not dead. He built the program.”
The tape ended.
Tomas crossed himself.
Alex could not speak.
His father had died in a private plane crash when Alex was nineteen. The body had been identified through dental records. The funeral had been closed casket because of the damage.
Samuel looked at the blood card.
“We can test this against your DNA.”
“How fast?”
“Forty-eight hours if I use a private lab.”
“We do not have forty-eight hours.”
Daniel’s phone rang.
He answered, listened, then turned toward Alex.
“A traffic camera captured Vale’s vehicle heading west. It exited near Rockford.”
“St. Orison.”
“Probably.”
Alex looked at the photographs again.
One living baby. One dead baby.
Eleven children declared dead.
A father who might have built the system.
A mother who had protected it.
He understood now that Mariana had not disappeared from his life. She had been driven through a maze designed by people who knew every door he would try.
They left the building through the loading dock.
Snow had begun to fall again.
A package waited on the hood of Alex’s car.
No one had seen it delivered.
Inside was a small digital recorder and a recent photograph of Mariana tied to a chair in a stone room.
Leonard Vale’s voice played when Alex pressed the button.
“Bring the blood card to St. Orison tomorrow night. Come alone, or Mariana learns what happened to the first child who tried to escape.”
Then the boy’s voice broke through.
“Do not believe him. The first child escaped years ago.”
A scuffle followed.
Vale shouted.
The recording stopped.
May you like
On the back of Mariana’s photograph, someone had written a second message in pencil.
The first child is already inside your house.
