Chapter 16 - FIFTY-NINE MINUTES
Fifty-eight minutes remained.
Natalie called cybercrime.
Rebecca contacted hospital attorneys.
Thomas began phoning families.
Charles, recovering from surgery, demanded updates from his hospital bed.
Andrew did something nobody expected.
He called Samuel Carter.
Emily's father answered.
“Andrew?”
“I need your help.”
Ten minutes later, Samuel arrived.
He looked older than his fifty-one years.
Grief did that.
Andrew knew.
Samuel stared at the screens.
Then at Ashley.
His face softened.
“You look like Emily.”
Ashley tilted her head.
“Was she funny?”
Samuel nearly broke.
“Very.”
“Did she like pancakes?”
“Hated them.”
Ashley looked at Andrew.
“See?”
“Not now.”
Samuel almost smiled.
Andrew explained Sarah's threat.
Samuel sat down.
“My daughter thinks justice means making everybody feel what we felt.”
“She needs you.”
“She hasn't spoken to me in two years.”
“Why?”
“Because I forgave Rebecca.”
Rebecca looked up.
Samuel continued.
“I hated her for years. Then I found Leah's letters.”
Andrew froze.
“Letters?”
Samuel nodded.
“Your wife wrote to me after Emily died.”
“Do you have them?”
“One.”
He removed a folded paper from his wallet.
Andrew stared at Leah's handwriting.
Samuel handed it over.
The letter was short.
Andrew read silently.
Leah told Samuel that Rebecca had made a terrible mistake by trusting Vale, but that the guilt belonged primarily to the people who knowingly built and concealed the illegal program.
At the bottom Leah had written:
If we turn grief into another weapon, Emily loses twice.
Andrew closed his eyes.
That sounded exactly like her.
“Sarah read this?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“She said Leah could afford forgiveness because Emily wasn't her daughter.”
Samuel's voice cracked.
“I slapped her.”
Andrew looked up.
“I regretted it immediately.”
“She left?”
“Next morning.”
Twenty-seven minutes.
Natalie shouted from across the room.
“We traced part of the connection.”
“Where?”
“Old municipal network.”
Patricia's eyes widened.
“St. Vincent.”
Andrew understood.
Sarah had returned to the abandoned hospital.
Natalie ordered units.
Andrew grabbed his coat.
Samuel grabbed his.
“No.”
Samuel looked at him.
“She's my daughter.”
Andrew nodded.
“Then let's go.”
Sarah sat in Room 203.
Laptop open.
Eleven folders arranged around her.
She was smaller than Andrew expected.
Twenty-two.
Thin.
Dark circles beneath her eyes.
Emily's red mitten lay beside the computer.
When Andrew entered, Sarah pointed a gun at him.
Samuel whispered:
“Baby.”
Her face collapsed.
“Don't call me that.”
“Okay.”
“You weren't supposed to come.”
“I know.”
Andrew looked at the countdown.
Nine minutes.
“Sarah.”
She aimed at him.
“You got your daughter.”
“Yes.”
“Everybody saved her.”
“Yes.”
“Nobody saved Emily.”
Andrew didn't defend the world.
Didn't tell her people tried.
Didn't explain that tragedy wasn't a competition.
He simply said:
“I'm sorry.”
Sarah's gun trembled.
“You don't get to be sorry.”
“Probably not.”
“You don't know what it was like.”
“No.”
That surprised her.
Andrew continued.
“I know what it was like thinking Ashley might die.”
“But she didn't.”
“No.”
“And Emily did.”
“Yes.”
Tears rolled down Sarah's face.
Seven minutes.
Samuel stepped closer.
“I failed you.”
Sarah screamed:
“Stay back!”
He stopped.
“I spent so much time grieving Emily that I forgot I still had a daughter.”
Sarah sobbed.
“Don't.”
“I'm sorry.”
“STOP.”
Six minutes.
Andrew put Leah's notebook down.
“You wanted this.”
Sarah stared.
“Open page forty-three.”
She hesitated.
Andrew opened it.
A list of eleven children.
Emily's name among them.
Beside every name Leah had written notes.
But beside Emily:
Loved dinosaurs.
Wanted to become a veterinarian.
Hated grape medicine.
Sarah stared.
“How did she know that?”
“Your sister told her.”
Sarah's gun lowered slightly.
Andrew continued.
“Emily isn't a case number in this notebook.”
Sarah cried.
“Then why did everyone forget?”
“They shouldn't have.”
Four minutes.
Andrew stepped closer.
“But publishing those records won't make people remember Emily.”
“It exposes them.”
“It exposes children.”
“They're adults now.”
“Some are. Some aren't.”
Sarah looked at the laptop.
Three minutes.
Rebecca appeared in the doorway.
Sarah raised the gun again.
“You.”
Rebecca stopped.
“I signed it.”
Sarah's jaw tightened.
“I know.”
“I signed the order that gave Emily the medication.”
“You killed her.”
Rebecca cried.
“I helped create the circumstances that killed her.”
Andrew looked at Rebecca.
She continued.
“I didn't know what Vale was doing. But I should have asked more questions. I should have checked. I should have protected her.”
Sarah sobbed.
“I hate you.”
Rebecca nodded.
“You're allowed.”
Two minutes.
“But don't hurt those families because you hate me.”
Sarah looked at the countdown.
Samuel whispered:
“Sarah.”
One minute.
Andrew looked at Ashley's photograph on his phone.
Then at Emily's mitten.
“Your sister deserves justice.”
Sarah's hand shook.
“Then help me.”
“I will.”
“How?”
“Second Door.”
She laughed bitterly.
“Your perfect charity?”
“It's not perfect.”
Andrew looked at Rebecca.
“Neither are the people running it.”
Rebecca nodded.
“But we can create an Emily Carter Legal Fund. Investigate every case. Pay attorneys. Help families reclaim their records. Make the hospital answer publicly.”
Sarah stared.
“Why?”
“Because someone should have done it three years ago.”
Thirty seconds.
Natalie stood outside but didn't enter.
Twenty.
Samuel cried.
“Please.”
Ten.
Sarah stared at the keyboard.
Nine.
Eight.
Seven.
She put the gun down.
Six.
Five.
Her finger hit a key.
The countdown disappeared.
Everyone exhaled.
Then Sarah whispered:
“There's one problem.”
Andrew looked at her.
“What?”
“I didn't start that countdown.”
Silence.
Natalie rushed in.
“What?”
Sarah turned the laptop.
“I built the archive. Somebody stole access yesterday.”
Andrew's stomach dropped.
The screen flashed.
UPLOAD RESUMED.
New countdown.
00:05:00.
Sarah whispered:
“Someone else wants those files public.”
Andrew stared.
“Who?”
Sarah looked terrified.
“The only person who had my backup password.”
“Who?”
“My father.”
May you like
Everyone slowly turned toward Samuel Carter.
But Samuel was gone.
