Chapter 7 - The NurseMrs. Bell had been missing for six days.
Russell had known.
Samuel had known.
Neither had told me.
I was done being protected.
We found her address through an old hospital directory.
Her house stood at the end of a narrow road behind a church cemetery.
The front door was locked.
A neighbor watched us from across the street.
“You’re looking for Eleanor?”
“Yes,” I said.
“She hasn't been home.”
“Did she leave anything?”
The woman hesitated.
“Someone came for her.”
My stomach dropped.
“Who?”
“Man.”
“What did he look like?”
“Gray hair. Expensive coat.”
Russell looked at Samuel.
Samuel looked disturbed.
“Wayne,” Russell whispered.
“That’s impossible,” I said.
“My stepfather is dead.”
Russell didn't answer.
The neighbor continued.
“He came two nights before Eleanor vanished.”
My heart pounded.
“Did she know him?”
“She opened the door.”
“Did she say his name?”
“No.”
The woman pointed toward the garage.
“She told me afterward she was frightened.”
We searched the house.
Nothing.
Except a small cassette recorder hidden inside a kitchen cabinet.
I pressed play.
Static.
Then an elderly woman's voice.
“Michael was right.”
I froze.
Mrs. Bell.
“He told me Wayne had altered the records.”
A pause.
“I helped him.”
I looked at Russell.
The tape continued.
“I'm sorry, Linda.”
My throat tightened.
“I should have told you the night you were born.”
The recording crackled.
“The baby who was listed as dead was not Linda.”
I stopped breathing.
Russell covered his mouth.
The voice continued.
“Linda was taken.”
A loud noise sounded in the background.
Mrs. Bell gasped.
Then the tape ended.
I rewound it.
Nothing.
I played it again.
Same ending.
Someone had stopped the recording.
But there was another sound.
A train whistle.
Samuel suddenly stood.
“Memphis Central.”
“What?”
“That whistle.”
He grabbed the tape.
“That's the old freight line near the warehouse district.”
Russell went pale.
“We need to leave.”
“Why?”
“Because Wayne used a warehouse there.”
I stared.
“Used it for what?”
Russell didn't answer.
Samuel did.
“Transfers.”
I felt ice in my veins.
“For babies?”
“Yes.”
We drove to the warehouse district.
The building was abandoned.
Broken windows.
Rusting doors.
I walked inside.
The smell of dust and oil filled the air.
Then I saw something scratched into a wooden wall.
Two letters.
L.H.
Linda Hale.
Below it, a date.
The date of my accident.
My heart pounded.
“This is where they took me.”
Samuel nodded.
“Probably.”
On the floor lay an old metal box.
Inside was a ledger.
Names.
Dates.
Amounts.
I turned pages.
And then I saw it.
LINDA HALE.
Beside my name was a number.
$325,000.
Then another name.
EMILY HALE.
Next to it:
SOLD. $42,000.
I dropped the ledger.
There were footsteps behind us.
Someone was inside the warehouse.
Russell grabbed my arm.
“Run.”
A voice came from the darkness.
“Don't.”
We turned.
A young woman stepped into the light.
Dark hair.
Scar above her eyebrow.
And eyes that looked exactly like mine.
May you like
She whispered:
“I'm Emily.”
