Chapter 2 - The Empty Room
The rehabilitation center did not answer.
Vincent called again.
Nothing.
Caitlyn was already moving toward the waiting SUV.
“We have to go.”
Damian caught her wrist.
“No.”
She spun around.
“That’s my brother.”
“And somebody expects you to react exactly like this.”
“I don’t care.”
“I do.”
The words stopped her.
Damian released her.
“Marco takes the first vehicle. We follow three minutes behind.”
“That wastes three minutes.”
“It might save your life.”
Twenty-eight minutes later, Caitlyn was sitting beside Damian as two black SUVs tore through the Pennsylvania darkness.
She called Noah’s nursing station repeatedly.
No answer.
Then finally someone picked up.
“Greenwood Rehabilitation.”
Caitlyn nearly cried with relief.
“This is Caitlyn Elmore. My brother is Noah Elmore, room 214. I need someone to check on him right now.”
A pause.
“Ms. Elmore?”
“Yes.”
Another pause.
Then the woman whispered:
“You need to come here.”
Caitlyn’s stomach dropped.
“What happened?”
“I can’t discuss it by telephone.”
“Is Noah alive?”
Silence.
“Is my brother alive?”
“Yes.”
Caitlyn closed her eyes.
Damian watched her.
“But,” the nurse continued, “there was an incident.”
The call disconnected.
When they reached Greenwood, police lights were flashing outside.
Caitlyn ran inside.
Room 214 was empty.
The bed was stripped.
The wheelchair was gone.
“Noah?”
She turned wildly.
“Noah!”
A nurse hurried toward her.
“Ms. Elmore.”
“Where is he?”
“We moved him.”
“Where?”
“Secure wing.”
Caitlyn almost collapsed.
Damian steadied her.
The nurse looked nervously at him.
“What happened?” Damian asked.
“A man entered the building around eleven. He claimed he was Noah’s uncle.”
“We don’t have an uncle,” Caitlyn said.
“He had identification. He knew Noah’s birth date. His medical history. Even his insurance authorization number.”
Damian’s expression darkened.
“What did he want?”
“To discharge him.”
Caitlyn stared.
“You almost gave my brother to a stranger?”
“No. One of our night nurses recognized something was wrong.”
“What?”
The nurse hesitated.
“Noah reacted.”
Caitlyn went still.
“Reacted how?”
“He became extremely agitated when the man entered.”
Noah rarely reacted strongly to anything.
The nurse continued.
“He started hitting the wheelchair tray with his left hand.”
“Right hand,” Caitlyn corrected automatically. “He has voluntary movement in his right hand.”
The nurse shook her head.
“Tonight it was his left.”
Caitlyn stared at her.
“That’s impossible.”
“No,” another voice said.
A neurologist approached.
“It’s new.”
Dr. Samuel Harris had treated Noah for nearly two years.
He looked exhausted.
“And there’s something else.”
He led them into a private office.
Damian remained near the door.
Dr. Harris placed a tablet on the desk.
“We’ve been tracking Noah’s responses. For months, we thought most of his movements were reflexive.”
Caitlyn nodded.
“Tonight changed that.”
He played a video.
Noah sat in his wheelchair.
A stranger stood several feet away.
His face was partially hidden from the security camera.
Noah’s left hand struck the tray.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Pause.
Once.
Pause.
Three times.
Caitlyn leaned closer.
“What is he doing?”
Damian answered.
“Morse code.”
Everyone looked at him.
He replayed the sequence.
Three short.
One.
Three.
“SOS?” Caitlyn asked.
“No.”
Damian’s eyes narrowed.
“N.”
Another sequence.
Then another.
Dr. Harris had recorded nearly two minutes.
Damian translated slowly.
“N... I... C...”
Caitlyn whispered the letters.
“N-I-C…”
Then her face changed.
“Nicholas.”
Damian looked at her.
“Who is Nicholas?”
Caitlyn felt cold.
“Nicholas Vale.”
Vincent, standing behind them, went completely still.
Damian noticed.
“You know the name.”
Vincent did not answer immediately.
“Vincent.”
“Yes.”
“Who is he?”
Vincent looked toward Caitlyn.
“He worked for your father.”
Caitlyn’s chair scraped backward.
“My father was an accountant.”
Vincent said nothing.
Damian closed the office door.
“Not exactly.”
And that was when Caitlyn understood that everyone in the room knew something about her family except her.
“Tell me.”
Damian’s expression hardened.
“Caitlyn—”
“Tell me.”
For once, she did not sound shy.
She sounded furious.
Damian studied her.
May you like
Then he said the sentence that destroyed everything she thought she knew about the last three years.
“Your father worked for me.”
