Chapter 4 - We evacuated Noah through the underground garage.Not the main entrance.
Not the helicopter pad.
Someone had shot through the nursery window with knowledge of exactly where I stood.
That meant they knew the layout.
Possibly the schedules.
Possibly the security system.
Possibly me.
Noah was placed in an armored SUV.
The lead paramedic climbed inside.
Emily followed.
I stopped her.
“You're not coming.”
She looked at me.
“He may die without me.”
“That doesn't mean I trust you.”
“You shouldn't.”
Her answer caught me off guard.
She lowered her voice.
“But trust doesn't matter right now.”
“What matters?”
“Keeping him alive.”
I looked at Noah through the vehicle window.
His tiny chest rose.
Once.
Twice.
I stepped aside.
The SUV pulled out.
Frank climbed beside me.
“You're coming?”
“No.”
He looked confused.
“Where are you going?”
I stared at the mansion.
“I'm going back in.”
“Sir…”
“Someone has been inside my house for years.”
I looked at the dark windows.
“And I'm going to find out where.”
We entered through the basement.
The mansion felt different now.
It was still mine.
But every hallway seemed to contain a secret.
Frank brought up the security blueprints.
“There are no hidden rooms.”
“Then why does Emily believe there is one?”
“She may be lying.”
“She knew what was happening to Noah.”
Frank didn't answer.
We reached the nursery.
Police had arrived by then.
The broken window had been covered.
The bullet was gone.
I stared at the blue symbol on Noah's blanket.
A memory surfaced.
A meeting six months earlier.
A private dinner.
A man from a pharmaceutical company.
He had worn a pin.
Blue circle.
Vertical line.
I had ignored it.
Now I couldn't.
“Frank.”
“Yes?”
“Run every person who has worked for me in the last ten years.”
“That's hundreds.”
“Then start with everyone who had access to the nursery.”
He nodded.
I opened Noah's crib.
Something metallic glinted beneath the mattress.
A tiny key.
Stamped with a number.
17.
“What is that?”
Frank examined it.
“Old hotel key?”
“No.”
I turned it over.
On the back was a word.
BASEMENT.
We went downstairs.
The Carter mansion had a wine cellar.
A generator room.
A panic room.
A storage vault.
Nothing else.
Then Frank noticed the foundation plans.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“There was a previous structure here.”
I looked.
“Before the mansion?”
He nodded.
“The original estate was built in 1958.”
“Burned down in 1987.”
“Exactly.”
He pointed to a section beneath the current foundation.
“An old service basement.”
“Why isn't it on the current plans?”
“Because it was sealed.”
We searched the basement walls.
Nothing.
Then I remembered the key.
There were seventeen concrete support columns.
Frank counted.
One.
Two.
Three.
Then he stopped.
“Seventeen.”
The key fit into a small metal plate.
A click echoed.
A section of wall moved inward.
I stared.
A hidden staircase descended into darkness.
Frank drew his weapon.
I followed.
The air smelled old.
Mold.
Metal.
Something chemical.
At the bottom was a narrow corridor.
The walls were covered with files.
Names.
Photographs.
Dates.
Frank shone his flashlight across them.
“Sir…”
I stepped closer.
The first folder had my photograph.
The second had my wife's.
The third had Noah's.
My heart began pounding.
These weren't family records.
They were surveillance files.
Pregnancy dates.
Medical appointments.
Travel schedules.
Drug prescriptions.
Everything.
Someone had documented our lives.
For years.
Then Frank opened another folder.
His expression changed.
“What's wrong?”
He handed it to me.
It contained a photograph of Emily.
But not Emily as she looked now.
She was fifteen years younger.
Standing beside a hospital bed.
Beside her was Daniel.
And behind them stood a woman I recognized.
My mother.
I stopped breathing.
“My mother knew them.”
Frank whispered:
“Sir…”
I opened the next file.
The title was written in red.
PROJECT NOAH.
Under it was a date.
Eight years before my son was born.
I stared at the page.
Eight years.
Before Noah even existed.
Then I saw the final line.
SUBJECT WILL BE INDUCED TO CREATE THE DESIRED CONDITION AT SIX MONTHS.
My hands went numb.
Someone had planned this before Noah was born.
Before I knew I'd ever have a son.
May you like
And at the bottom of the page was a signature.
Mine.
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