CHAPTER 7: THE WOMAN WHO WASN'T SARAH
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
The woman stood in the rain with Sarah Bell's hospital badge in her hand.
But she wasn't Sarah.
She had just told me Sarah Bell had been dead for eight years.
Yet the woman who had called me earlier had claimed to be Sarah.
Someone was lying.
Or worse.
Someone had been using Sarah's identity.
“Who are you?” I asked again.
The woman looked toward the trees.
“We don't have time.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“You want answers?”
She pointed toward the road.
“Get in.”
I didn't move.
Behind us, branches snapped.
Someone was coming.
The woman grabbed my arm.
“If they catch you, that box disappears.”
I looked at Sarah.
The real Sarah.
She was still pale and shaking.
“Do you know her?”
Sarah stared at the woman.
Then her face changed.
“Rebecca?”
The woman nodded.
Sarah covered her mouth.
“You're alive.”
“I've been alive the entire time.”
I stared at them.
“What is happening?”
Rebecca looked at the box.
“Your father knew this day would come.”
She opened the car door.
“Get in.”
This time, I did.
The car tore away from the forest.
I watched the headlights of the vehicles behind us grow smaller.
Sarah sat beside me in the back seat.
Rebecca drove without saying a word.
After several minutes, I couldn't take it anymore.
“Start talking.”
Rebecca kept her eyes on the road.
“Your father discovered a private network.”
“The institutionalization network?”
She nodded.
“It wasn't limited to one hospital.”
“How many?”
“More than you can imagine.”
Sarah interrupted.
“Don't tell him everything yet.”
I turned toward her.
“Why not?”
“Because we don't know who we can trust.”
I laughed bitterly.
“That's becoming obvious.”
Rebecca glanced at me through the mirror.
“Your father trusted almost nobody.”
“Did he trust you?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I worked with him.”
“Doing what?”
“Investigating suspicious deaths.”
My chest tightened.
“Deaths like Dad's?”
“Exactly.”
She turned onto a narrow road.
“Your father discovered that certain wealthy families were paying doctors and administrators to declare relatives mentally incompetent.”
“And then?”
“The relatives were placed under guardianship.”
“Their assets were transferred.”
“Yes.”
“And some were institutionalized.”
Rebecca's voice became quieter.
“Some never came back.”
I stared out the window.
Daniel.
My brother.
My mother's plan suddenly looked even more terrifying.
“How did Dad get involved?”
“He noticed something unusual in hospital records.”
“What?”
“Medication errors.”
“People were being overdosed?”
“Sometimes.”
“Sometimes?”
“Sometimes the records were altered afterward.”
Sarah looked down.
“That's what happened to your father.”
I looked at her.
“You said you were there.”
“I was.”
“You saw the medication changed.”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn't you report it?”
“I tried.”
“What happened?”
Rebecca answered.
“They threatened her.”
“Who?”
“The hospital.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It does when the people running the hospital are part of the network.”
I looked at the metal box.
“What's the key for?”
Rebecca's eyes flicked toward it.
“Don't use it yet.”
“Why?”
“Because what's behind that lock could expose everyone.”
“That sounds exactly like what I need.”
“It could also get Daniel killed.”
I tightened my grip.
“Daniel is already in danger.”
Rebecca nodded.
“Then we need to be careful.”
My phone suddenly vibrated.
I pulled it out.
Unknown number.
A video.
I opened it.
Daniel.
He was sitting in a chair.
His hands were still tied.
There was a bruise beneath his eye.
My mother stood behind him.
“Daniel,” I whispered.
His eyes lifted.
He looked directly into the camera.
Then he began tapping his fingers against his leg.
Three taps.
Pause.
Two taps.
Pause.
Three taps.
I recognized it.
Our childhood signal.
It meant:
LOOK BEHIND ME.
I stared at the video.
Behind Daniel was a bookshelf.
A clock.
A painting.
And a small window.
I paused the video.
“Where is that?”
Rebecca glanced at the screen.
She immediately recognized it.
“That's the old Whitmore house.”
My heart stopped.
“The house we sold?”
“Yes.”
“How could they be there?”
“Your mother never sold it.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“She transferred the property to a holding company.”
“Why?”
“To hide assets.”
Rebecca looked at the screen again.
“There's something else.”
“What?”
She pointed at the clock.
“That's not a clock.”
I zoomed in.
The face was slightly tilted.
Behind it was a small black camera.
My stomach tightened.
“They're recording Daniel.”
Rebecca nodded.
“And someone is watching the feed.”
“Can we track it?”
“Maybe.”
She pulled over.
“Give me your phone.”
I handed it to her.
She connected it to a laptop.
Lines of code appeared across the screen.
I didn't understand any of it.
Then Rebecca stopped.
“What?”
She pointed.
“There.”
A location appeared.
My mother wasn't at the old house.
She was somewhere else.
A private medical facility outside the city.
I recognized the name.
“That's where Dad died.”
Sarah looked at me.
“No.”
“Yes.”
Rebecca shook her head.
“The hospital closed years ago.”
“Then why is the signal there?”
“Because someone reopened part of it.”
I looked at the video again.
Daniel's fingers were moving.
Three taps.
Two taps.
Three taps.
Then he stopped.
His eyes shifted toward the door.
Someone was coming.
The video ended.
I called him.
No answer.
I called again.
Nothing.
Then my mother's number appeared.
I answered.
Her voice was calm.
“Where are you?”
“Where is Daniel?”
“Safe.”
“Put him on.”
“He doesn't want to talk.”
“That's a lie.”
She sighed.
“You've always been difficult.”
“You hurt him.”
“No.”
“You staged the attack.”
“He attacked Mark.”
“You wrote about it.”
Silence.
I knew she had heard me.
“The notebook,” I said.
Her breathing changed.
“You found it.”
“Yes.”
“Then you know what happens next.”
I felt my stomach drop.
“What?”
“You're going to bring that box to me.”
“No.”
“Then Daniel goes into the facility.”
“What facility?”
She laughed softly.
“You know exactly where.”
The old hospital.
I gripped the phone.
“You're going to institutionalize him.”
“He needs help.”
“You're going to take his trust.”
“Someone has to manage it.”
“You.”
“His guardian.”
“Forgery.”
“Prove it.”
I looked at Rebecca.
She was recording the call.
My mother continued.
“You have until midnight.”
“What happens at midnight?”
Silence.
Then she said:
“Daniel signs the transfer.”
“He can't sign anything.”
“He doesn't have to.”
My blood ran cold.
“What does that mean?”
“You'll find out.”
The call ended.
I stared at the phone.
Rebecca immediately started typing.
“What are you doing?”
“Tracking the number.”
“Can you?”
“Not if she knows what she's doing.”
A message appeared.
LOCATION FOUND.
I looked at the screen.
“Where?”
Rebecca's face went pale.
“It's coming from inside the old hospital.”
Sarah whispered:
“They're already there.”
I looked at the clock.
11:18 p.m.
Forty-two minutes.
“What happens at midnight?”
Rebecca didn't answer.
I turned toward her.
“What happens?”
She finally spoke.
“Guardianship hearings can be rushed through emergency petitions.”
“But not without a judge.”
“Not normally.”
I stared at her.
“Normally?”
Rebecca looked at me.
“Your father found evidence that one judge was paid to approve them.”
I felt sick.
“Who?”
She hesitated.
Then gave me a name.
Judge Thomas Whitaker.
I searched the name.
My stomach dropped.
He was the same judge listed on Daniel's guardianship paperwork.
The same paperwork my mother had presented at the hospital.
I stared at the screen.
“It's all connected.”
Rebecca nodded.
“And now they know we have the box.”
I looked at Sarah.
Then at Rebecca.
“We're going to the hospital.”
Sarah grabbed my arm.
“No.”
“I have to get Daniel.”
“You don't understand.”
“I understand perfectly.”
She shook her head.
“If we go there, they will be waiting.”
“Then we surprise them.”
Rebecca looked at me.
“There may be another way.”
“What?”
She pointed toward the metal box.
“The key.”
I pulled it out.
“What does it open?”
Rebecca stared at it.
“Your father's old office.”
“Where?”
“Under the hospital.”
I looked at the clock.
11:24.
“Can we get there?”
“Yes.”
“Then let's go.”
Rebecca started the car.
As we drove, I opened my father's letter again.
The final sentence caught my eye.
I had missed something.
There was writing beneath the signature.
A line so faint I could barely see it.
I held it beneath the dashboard light.
My father's handwriting appeared.
IF DANIEL EVER DISAPPEARS, DO NOT LOOK FOR HIM FIRST.
LOOK FOR THE PERSON WHO SIGNED HIS DEATH CERTIFICATE.
I stopped breathing.
Dad had predicted Daniel disappearing.
And then I remembered something.
Daniel wasn't missing.
He had been taken.
Which meant someone had already prepared the paperwork.
Someone had already decided what Daniel's future would be.
Someone had already signed something.
I looked at Rebecca.
“Who signed Dad's death certificate?”
She went silent.
Sarah whispered:
“Dr. Cole.”
I stared at her.
The fake doctor.
The man in the photograph.
The man connected to my mother.
The man whose name wasn't actually Dr. Cole.
Rebecca accelerated.
Then her phone rang.
She answered.
Her face changed.
“What?”
She listened.
Then whispered:
“That's impossible.”
She hung up.
I looked at her.
“What happened?”
She didn't answer immediately.
Then she said:
“The hospital just reported that Daniel died.”
My blood turned to ice.
“What?”
“The death certificate was filed eleven minutes ago.”
I looked at the clock.
11:31.
Daniel was supposedly dead.
Twenty-nine minutes before midnight.
May you like
And whoever filed the certificate had already signed it.
Dr. Cole.
