Chapter 13 - THE WOMAN WHO DISAPPEARED AFTER EMILY DIED
Andrew didn't knock on Rebecca's apartment door.
He pounded.
“Rebecca!”
No answer.
Natalie caught his arm.
“Back up.”
“She knows something.”
“I know.”
“She was Emily's nurse.”
“I know.”
“And Leah wrote—”
“I read the notebook, Andrew.”
He stepped away.
Natalie knocked again.
“Rebecca Sloan! Bellwood Police!”
Nothing.
The apartment manager unlocked the door.
Rebecca was gone.
Her purse remained on the kitchen counter.
Her car was parked outside.
A mug of coffee sat half-finished beside the sink.
And on the refrigerator was a photograph of Ashley.
Andrew stared at it.
Natalie searched the bedroom.
“No suitcase missing.”
“Phone?”
“Gone.”
Andrew walked toward Rebecca's desk.
One drawer stood open.
Empty.
Except for a photograph.
Emily Carter.
Same little girl.
Different picture.
On the back:
I'm sorry.
Andrew's anger rose.
“She did it.”
Natalie turned.
“We don't know that.”
“She disappeared.”
“So did you.”
That stopped him.
“A year ago,” Natalie continued, “half this town decided your disappearance meant you abandoned Ashley.”
Andrew looked away.
“Remember how accurate that was?”
He hated when she was right.
Which was often.
Natalie picked up the photograph.
“We follow facts.”
Andrew nodded.
Barely.
Then his phone rang.
Second Door.
He answered.
“Andrew?”
It was Patricia.
Her voice shook.
“You need to come here.”
“What happened?”
“Someone broke in.”
The Second Door Family Support Center looked as though a storm had passed through it.
Cabinets open.
Files dumped across the floor.
Computers overturned.
But nothing expensive appeared stolen.
The donation cashbox remained untouched.
Patricia stood near the front desk.
“They were looking for something.”
Andrew knew what.
“Leah's files.”
Patricia stared.
“How did you—”
“Were there any old records here?”
“Rebecca kept archived cases in the back.”
They hurried to the storage room.
One filing cabinet had been forced open.
Inside, folders remained alphabetized.
Except C.
Carter was missing.
Natalie crouched.
“Security footage?”
Patricia pointed toward the ceiling.
“Camera was disconnected.”
Andrew turned.
“Who knew how?”
Patricia hesitated.
“Rebecca.”
Silence.
Then Thomas arrived.
Ashley was with him.
Andrew frowned.
“I told you to keep her home.”
Ashley answered:
“I voted.”
“You don't get a vote.”
“That doesn't sound democratic.”
Thomas shrugged.
“She has a point.”
Andrew glared at his brother.
Then Thomas saw the destruction.
“What happened?”
“Somebody took Emily Carter's file.”
Thomas froze.
Andrew noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Thomas.”
His brother looked toward Ashley.
Andrew understood.
“Ashley, Patricia has cupcakes.”
Ashley gasped.
Patricia said, “Actually—”
Andrew looked at her.
She corrected herself.
“I absolutely have cupcakes.”
Ashley followed her.
Andrew turned back.
“What do you know?”
Thomas lowered his voice.
“Leah mentioned Emily.”
Andrew's anger flashed.
“Apparently everybody knew this child except me.”
“You were dealing with Ashley's diagnosis.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“Leah was protecting you.”
“Everybody keeps protecting me with lies.”
Thomas flinched.
Andrew regretted it immediately.
But Thomas continued.
“Emily was the reason Leah started helping transplant families.”
“How?”
“Emily's dad was sleeping in his car while she was hospitalized.”
Andrew closed his eyes.
He could picture it.
Because he had almost been that father.
Thomas continued.
“Leah found out. She got him a motel room. Food. Gas cards.”
“With whose money?”
“At first? Hers.”
“And then Dad promised help.”
“Yes.”
“And withdrew it.”
“Yes.”
Andrew looked toward Charles, who had just entered.
Charles heard.
He didn't defend himself.
Thomas continued.
“But that wasn't what destroyed Leah.”
“What was?”
Thomas hesitated.
“Emily's death.”
Andrew waited.
“Leah believed it wasn't an accident.”
Natalie stepped closer.
“Why?”
“Because Rebecca told her.”
The room went silent.
Andrew felt his heartbeat.
“What did Rebecca tell her?”
Thomas shook his head.
“I don't know exactly.”
“You never asked?”
“I did. Leah wouldn't say.”
“Why?”
“She said knowing could put me in danger.”
Andrew almost laughed.
“Fantastic. Another secret.”
Thomas grabbed his arm.
“Andrew, Leah was scared.”
That changed everything.
“Of who?”
“I don't know.”
“Hospital?”
“Maybe.”
“Doctor?”
“I don't know.”
“Rebecca?”
Thomas shook his head.
“No. Leah trusted Rebecca.”
Andrew remembered the anonymous message.
Rebecca stopped her.
What if that was a lie?
What if somebody wanted Andrew to suspect Rebecca?
Natalie's phone buzzed.
She checked it.
“We found Rebecca's phone.”
“Where?”
“Parking garage at Bellwood Children's.”
They found the phone beneath a stairwell.
Screen cracked.
Blood on the case.
Andrew's stomach dropped.
Natalie stopped him from touching it.
“That's not much blood.”
“Enough.”
Crime-scene technicians searched the garage.
Then an officer called:
“Detective?”
Natalie wasn't technically a detective, but nobody corrected him.
Behind a concrete pillar was Rebecca's scarf.
And beside it—
a syringe.
Andrew stared.
Natalie immediately ordered testing.
Then Ashley's voice came from behind them.
“Daddy?”
Andrew spun.
Thomas stood twenty feet away looking guilty.
“I tried.”
Andrew rushed to Ashley.
“You cannot be here.”
“I wanted Aunt Becca.”
“We don't know where she is.”
Ashley looked toward the scarf.
Then at the syringe.
“Is she hurt?”
Andrew crouched.
“We're going to find her.”
Ashley looked directly into his eyes.
“Promise?”
Andrew hesitated.
He had learned to stop making promises he couldn't control.
“I promise we're going to try everything.”
Ashley nodded.
Then she noticed something.
“That's Aunt Becca's bracelet.”
Andrew looked.
Beneath a parked car, something silver glinted.
Police retrieved it.
A medical-alert bracelet.
Rebecca Sloan.
But engraved on the inside were numbers.
4-17-23.
Andrew frowned.
“What's that?”
Thomas went pale.
Natalie noticed.
“You know?”
Thomas nodded.
“Leah died April seventeenth.”
Andrew looked again.
The date Leah died.
“Why would Rebecca wear the date my wife died?”
Nobody answered.
Then Ashley said:
“Maybe so she doesn't forget.”
Andrew looked at her.
Children sometimes walked directly through complications adults built around simple truths.
“Forget what?”
Ashley shrugged.
“Something important.”
Natalie examined the bracelet.
“There's more.”
Tiny letters were engraved after the date.
Not a name.
A room number.
BCH-614.
Bellwood Children's Hospital.
Room 614.
Andrew's skin prickled.
“What was in room 614?”
Thomas shook his head.
But Charles whispered:
“Leah.”
Andrew turned.
“What?”
“That was her room.”
Charles stared at the bracelet.
“The night she died.”
Hospital records showed something strange.
Leah Parker had officially occupied Room 612.
Not 614.
Andrew remembered 612.
He remembered the numbers beside the door.
So why did Charles remember 614?
They pulled archived floor plans.
Room 614 had not been a patient room.
It was a small consultation room.
Andrew stared.
“What happened there?”
The hospital administrator claimed not to know.
Then Natalie requested security archives.
Too old.
Deleted.
Visitor logs?
Incomplete.
Medical records?
Restricted.
But one thing remained.
A maintenance report.
At 11:48 P.M. on the night Leah died, security had been called to Room 614 because of “a verbal disturbance involving visitors.”
Names were not listed.
Andrew felt cold.
“Who were the visitors?”
The administrator shook her head.
“We don't have that information.”
Charles sat down.
Andrew looked at him.
“You were there.”
His father didn't answer.
“You were in 614.”
Charles whispered:
“Yes.”
“With Leah?”
“Yes.”
“And Rebecca?”
Charles closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
Andrew felt betrayed all over again.
“What happened?”
Charles looked at him.
“Leah showed us evidence.”
“Of Emily?”
“Yes.”
“What evidence?”
“A medication log.”
Natalie leaned forward.
“What did it show?”
Charles's voice trembled.
“Emily didn't receive the wrong medication by accident.”
Andrew stopped breathing.
“Then what happened?”
Charles looked toward the hospital corridor.
“Someone changed her chart after she died.”
Natalie said quietly:
“To cover a mistake?”
Charles shook his head.
“Worse.”
“What could be worse?”
Charles looked at Andrew.
“Emily wasn't the only child.”
Silence.
“There were others.”
“How many?”
“I don't know.”
“Two?”
Charles shook his head.
“Five?”
Nothing.
Andrew's voice rose.
“How many?”
Charles whispered:
“At least eleven.”
Andrew stepped back.
Eleven children.
Eleven families.
Natalie immediately started making calls.
Andrew stared through the hospital window.
Then his phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
A video.
He opened it.
Rebecca appeared on screen.
Alive.
Her hands were tied.
Blood ran from her forehead.
She looked terrified.
Behind her was darkness.
A distorted voice spoke.
“Andrew Parker.”
Andrew's entire body tightened.
“You wanted the truth about Emily.”
Rebecca shook her head frantically.
The voice continued.
“You'll get it.”
A hand appeared holding a syringe.
Rebecca began struggling.
“But truth has a price.”
The video ended.
Then a message appeared.
Bring Leah's notebook to the abandoned St. Vincent Children's Wing.
Midnight.
Come alone.
Or Rebecca becomes number twelve.
Andrew stared at the screen.
Natalie read over his shoulder.
“No.”
Andrew looked at her.
“He has Rebecca.”
“You are not going alone.”
“He specifically said—”
“I don't care.”
Andrew stared at Rebecca's frozen face on the screen.
Three years earlier, his wife had discovered something involving eleven children.
Now someone had kidnapped the only surviving witness.
And Andrew finally understood why the stranger had dragged Ashley into this.
It had never been revenge against him.
It had been bait.
May you like
Someone wanted Leah's notebook.
And they were willing to kill for it.
