Chapter 9 - The Woman Who Was Supposed to Be DeadWe escaped through a maintenance tunnel.
I don't remember how.
Only pieces.
Crawling.
Smoke.
Anna coughing.
A metal hatch.
Freezing air.
Then snow.
We emerged behind the building.
Harris was waiting.
He had ignored my order to stay away.
I had never been happier to see him.
“Where's the ledger?”
Anna handed it over.
Harris looked at it.
Then at me.
“We have a problem.”
“What?”
“Your captain issued an arrest warrant.”
“For who?”
“You.”
I stared at him.
“On what charge?”
“Evidence theft. Assault. Obstruction.”
“Who signed it?”
Reeves.
Of course.
Harris handed me a phone.
My photograph was already circulating online.
The headline read:
ROGUE OFFICER STEALS EVIDENCE IN MISSING WOMAN CASE
Another article:
POLICE OFFICER LINKED TO FAMILY CONSPIRACY
Another:
MARA COLLINS ACCUSED OF KIDNAPPING SISTER EMILY
I looked at Anna.
“He's framing me.”
“Yes.”
“What about Emily?”
“Missing person alert canceled.”
I stared.
“Canceled?”
“They say she's safe.”
“She isn't.”
Harris nodded.
“Then we have to assume the network controls the system.”
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
A woman's voice.
“Mara.”
I froze.
“Who is this?”
“You already know.”
“Lauren?”
Silence.
Then:
“Yes.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“Where is my sister?”
“Emily is alive.”
“Tell me where.”
“You have the ledger.”
“I do.”
“And Anna?”
I looked at her.
“She’s here.”
Lauren exhaled.
“Then we need to move.”
“Where?”
“Old St. Vincent's Hospital.”
“That building has been abandoned for years.”
“I know.”
“Why there?”
“Because that was where they took the women.”
The line went dead.
We arrived forty minutes later.
The hospital stood on the edge of the city, half-collapsed and covered in snow.
Inside, old medical charts littered the floor.
There were stains on the walls.
Room numbers painted over.
Anna walked slowly through the corridor.
Then she stopped.
“Room 17.”
“What?”
“This was where they kept us.”
“Us?”
She pointed toward the old doors.
“Women they said were psychiatric cases.”
I felt sick.
They had used the hospital to erase them.
Label them unstable.
Sedate them.
Silence them.
A sound came from behind a door.
Someone crying.
We pushed it open.
Lauren was inside.
Alive.
Older.
Thin.
But standing.
Emily was beside her.
Alive.
Bruised.
Bound at the wrists.
I crossed the room.
“Emily!”
She burst into tears.
“Mara.”
I cut the restraints.
Then turned to Lauren.
“You survived.”
She nodded.
“Barely.”
“Who is the Architect?”
Lauren looked at Anna.
Anna stepped forward.
“Tell her.”
Lauren's face tightened.
“You really don't know?”
“No.”
Lauren looked at me.
“Your father wasn't investigating the network.”
I frowned.
“He was running it.”
Silence.
“No.”
“He was the accountant.”
“He moved the money.”
“He helped them build it.”
I shook my head.
“You're lying.”
Lauren shook her head.
“I wish I were.”
She pointed to the ledger.
“That's why the original records mattered.”
“You're saying my father was part of this?”
“Yes.”
Emily looked at Anna.
“What about Mom?”
Lauren hesitated.
“Your mother knew.”
My knees felt weak.
“No.”
Lauren lowered her voice.
“Your parents were not victims at first.”
“They were partners.”
Then she added the final blow.
“But your father wanted out.”
“That was the accident.”
I looked at Anna.
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Dad was supposed to hand over the ledger.”
Lauren nodded.
“He refused.”
“Then the Mercers came.”
“Yes.”
“Anna survived.”
“Yes.”
“And my father?”
Lauren looked away.
“He didn't die in the crash.”
I felt the world stop.
“What?”
“He disappeared.”
My voice barely worked.
“Where is he?”
Lauren looked at Emily.
Then at me.
“He has been alive for twenty years.”
A door behind us clicked.
We all turned.
A man stood in the hallway.
Gray hair.
Dark coat.
A cane.
My mother's face flashed through my mind.
The old photograph.
The voice in the tape.
I knew him.
Even after twenty years.
Because every daughter remembers her father's face.
My father looked at me.
May you like
And said:
“Mara.”
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