Chapter 8 - The First ChildVance was dead before the ambulance arrived.
The bullet had entered through the heart.
A professional shot.
Distance.
Perfect angle.
Whoever killed him had been waiting for the right moment.
And he had known exactly what Vance was about to tell me.
Daniel had another child.
Evan wasn't the first.
I stared at the empty hospital corridor while the words repeated in my head.
First child.
Second child.
Who was the first?
Why had Daniel hidden them?
And why was Evan in danger now?
I went back to the station and searched every file connected to Daniel.
Birth records.
Hospital records.
Old police reports.
Nothing.
Then I remembered the photograph from Saint Mercy.
Subject 01.
The date.
Nine years ago.
I searched births recorded that week.
One name stood out.
A baby boy born to an unidentified woman.
The father field was blank.
The mother field had been entered as Jane Miller.
That was my grandmother's name.
But my grandmother had been dead for eleven years.
Someone had used a dead woman's identity.
I ordered the original records.
The archived file had been altered.
But the original birth certificate was still in the hospital's physical storage.
The baby's name was never entered.
Only one note.
TRANSFERRED TO PRIVATE CUSTODY.
I stared at the paper.
"Who signed this?"
A clerk searched the signature.
"Dr. Thomas Reed."
My heart sank.
I drove back to find him.
The hidden office was empty.
Reed was gone.
Someone had taken every file.
Except one.
A single folder had been left on the floor.
Inside was a photograph.
A teenage boy.
Dark hair.
Green eyes.
The same scar over the eyebrow Daniel had.
On the back:
NOAH.
Then another photograph.
Noah at five.
Noah at ten.
Noah at fifteen.
Noah beside Daniel.
Noah beside Claire.
Noah beside Evan.
My knees weakened.
There were three children.
And in the final photograph, Daniel was holding all three.
I turned the picture over.
A message:
THE FIRST CHILD KNOWS WHERE THE BODIES ARE.
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
"You're looking for Noah."
"Who are you?"
"Someone your brother trusted."
"Where is Noah?"
"Alive."
"Where?"
"You'll never find him."
"Try me."
A pause.
Then:
"Ask Evan what he remembers about the train."
The line ended.
I went back to the children's facility.
Evan was asleep.
I woke him gently.
"Evan."
His eyes opened.
"Jack?"
"What happened on the train?"
His face went pale.
"You know about it?"
"Tell me."
He sat up.
"My dad told me never to talk about it."
"What train?"
"The black train."
"What happened?"
"We rode in it."
"Who else was there?"
He began trembling.
"Mom."
"Who else?"
"My brother."
I froze.
"Noah?"
He nodded.
"Daniel said Noah would protect me."
"Where did the train go?"
Evan whispered:
"Underground."
My blood turned cold.
"Where?"
"To the place where they keep the children."
I reached for my phone.
Then Evan grabbed my hand.
"Jack."
"What?"
"I remember something else."
"What?"
He looked toward the dark window.
"There was a woman waiting for us."
"Who?"
"My grandmother."
I couldn't breathe.
"Our grandmother died before you were born."
Evan shook his head.
"Not mine."
He pointed at the window.
"She told Dad she was sorry."
"Sorry for what?"
Evan's expression went blank.
Then he whispered:
"For choosing Noah."
Behind us, the door opened.
A woman stood in the hallway.
Claire.
Alive.
May you like
She smiled through the glass.
And beside her stood a teenage boy with Daniel's eyes.
