Chapter 5 - A Name From Andrew’s Own Family
Gregory Whitman answered on the second ring.
“Andrew.”
Andrew stood alone in his office at Whitman Technologies, staring down at Chicago.
“Where were you three months ago on October seventeenth?”
A pause.
Not long.
Long enough.
“I don’t keep every date in my head.”
“Try.”
“What is this about?”
“A woman named Rachel Miller.”
Another pause.
This one longer.
Andrew closed his eyes.
“Gregory.”
“I know the name.”
Andrew’s hand tightened around the phone.
“How?”
“She contacted the foundation.”
“What foundation?”
“Bright Harbor.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“You’re involved with Bright Harbor?”
“I’m a donor.”
“You never mentioned that.”
“I donate to thirty organizations.”
“Did you meet Rachel Miller?”
“Yes.”
Andrew’s chest went tight.
“Where?”
“At St. Matthew’s.”
“Why?”
“She asked for help.”
“Did you help her?”
Gregory sighed.
“Andrew, whatever you’ve stumbled into, be careful.”
The warning was worse than a denial.
“Why?”
“Because Rachel Miller was not stable.”
Andrew laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
“Interesting. Everyone connected to that place says exactly the same thing.”
“She was paranoid.”
“She disappeared.”
“Adults disappear.”
“She left her child.”
“That’s not what Ethan says.”
Silence.
Then Gregory’s voice changed.
“You have the boy?”
Andrew stared at the phone.
He had never said Ethan’s name.
“How did you know?”
“News reports.”
“News reports haven’t released his identity.”
Silence again.
Andrew felt something inside him harden.
“Gregory.”
His uncle exhaled slowly.
“You need to stay out of this.”
“Tell me what happened to Rachel.”
“I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Both.”
Andrew hung up.
Three minutes later, he ordered security to suspend Gregory’s access to Whitman Technologies facilities.
The board erupted by lunchtime.
Andrew did not care.
At the advocacy center, Ethan was interviewed by a forensic specialist.
Andrew watched from behind one-way glass with Detective Ruiz.
Ethan described the basement.
A steel door.
A mattress.
A camera in the corner.
Children sent there for “reset.”
He described Mr. Crowley squeezing his arm.
He described hearing other kids crying.
Then the interviewer asked about Rachel.
Ethan’s voice changed.
“My mom came at night.”
“How did you know?”
“I saw her from upstairs.”
“What happened?”
“She was yelling at Mr. Voss.”
“Could you hear what she said?”
Ethan nodded.
“She said, ‘I copied everything.’”
Andrew and Ruiz exchanged a glance.
“What did Mr. Voss say?”
“He said she didn’t understand what she had.”
“What happened then?”
“A man came.”
“Which man?”
“The one named Whitman.”
“What did he say?”
Ethan squeezed his eyes shut.
“He told my mom she had made a dangerous mistake.”
The interviewer stayed gentle.
“And then?”
“They took her to the car.”
“Did you see anyone hurt her?”
“No.”
“Did she leave willingly?”
Ethan shook his head hard.
“She kicked the door.”
Andrew looked away.
Afterward, Ruiz pulled him aside.
“We need to talk about your uncle.”
“He admitted meeting her.”
Ruiz’s eyes narrowed.
“That’s more than he admitted to us.”
“You interviewed him?”
“This morning.”
Andrew stared.
“He told us he had never met Rachel Miller.”
The betrayal landed quietly.
Sometimes the worst betrayals did.
Andrew thought of birthdays.
Christmas dinners.
Gregory teaching him to drive.
Gregory standing beside his father’s grave.
“You think he’s involved.”
Ruiz did not answer directly.
“I think wealthy people often assume contradictions are privileges instead of evidence.”
Andrew almost smiled.
“Then you’re going to enjoy my family.”
At 4:00 p.m., Owen called.
“We found Rachel’s storage unit.”
Andrew left immediately.
It was on the North Side, registered under Rachel’s middle name.
Police obtained a warrant.
Inside were boxes of Ethan’s baby clothes.
Nursing textbooks.
Christmas decorations.
Nothing belonging to a woman planning to vanish.
Then Ruiz found a locked metal case.
The key was missing.
Andrew thought of Ethan’s box.
A key.
Letters.
They brought Ethan’s small wooden box from the St. Matthew’s property room under warrant.
Inside was a brass key.
A photograph of Rachel holding Ethan on a beach.
Four sealed letters.
And one envelope with Andrew’s name on it.
Everyone stopped.
Andrew stared.
He had never met Rachel Miller.
Yet on the front, in blue ink, she had written:
ANDREW WHITMAN — IF THEY COME FOR ME, YOU ARE THE ONLY PERSON WHO CAN STOP HIM.
Andrew opened the letter.
The first sentence made his heart stop.
May you like
Andrew,
Your wife Sarah discovered what your uncle was doing before she died.
