Chapter 4 - THE HOUSE ON MILLER ROAD
The police didn't dismiss Caleb this time.
Maybe it was the hospital records.
Maybe it was the note.
Maybe it was the witnesses who had seen Daniel's reaction in the parking lot.
Or maybe it was the fact that a twelve-year-old boy had nearly died in a locked vehicle while shielding a newborn.
Detective Marcus Reed arrived shortly after midnight.
He was a broad-shouldered man in his early fifties with tired eyes and a voice that never needed to become loud.
He listened.
He didn't interrupt Caleb.
He didn't tell him what he should remember.
He simply listened.
When Caleb finished, Reed asked one question.
“Can you show me where the house is?”
Caleb nodded.
Rebecca immediately stood.
“He's not going anywhere.”
Reed raised a hand.
“He doesn't have to.”
He placed a tablet on the hospital tray.
“We can use a map.”
Caleb studied the screen.
Reed zoomed in around Miller Road.
“Anything familiar?”
Caleb pointed.
“There.”
Reed looked.
The property appeared abandoned.
A farmhouse surrounded by trees.
No nearby neighbors.
No businesses.
No obvious reason for the executive director of Mercer Child Services to be there.
Reed wrote down the address.
“Stay here.”
Rebecca crossed her arms.
“Where are you going?”
“To get a warrant.”
Daniel Mercer was released at 1:17 a.m.
That nearly caused Rebecca to explode.
“You're letting him walk?”
Reed remained calm.
“We're not finished.”
“He nearly killed those children.”
“And I need evidence that survives a courtroom.”
Rebecca pointed toward Caleb's room.
“There's your evidence.”
“There is part of it.”
Reed lowered his voice.
“If Daniel Mercer is involved in what your nephew described, arresting him too early could warn everyone else involved.”
Rebecca stopped.
“Everyone else?”
Reed didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
At 3:40 a.m., police obtained the warrant.
At 4:12, six vehicles turned onto Miller Road.
I wasn't there.
I learned what happened afterward.
The farmhouse looked empty from the outside.
The windows were boarded.
The grass was waist-high.
The mailbox had fallen sideways.
But the electricity was running.
Detective Reed noticed that immediately.
The front door was locked.
Police entered through the side.
The first floor contained almost nothing.
Old furniture.
Dust.
Empty rooms.
A refrigerator that wasn't plugged in.
Then one officer noticed scratches on the kitchen floor.
A metal cabinet had been dragged repeatedly across the same patch of tile.
They moved it.
Behind the cabinet was a door.
The stairs went underground.
The first thing Reed noticed downstairs was the smell.
Disinfectant.
Strong enough to sting the eyes.
The second thing was the temperature.
Cool.
Controlled.
The third thing was the silence.
There were six rooms beneath the farmhouse.
Three were empty.
One contained shelves stacked with formula, diapers, blankets, and medical supplies.
Another contained filing cabinets.
The final room contained eight cribs.
All empty.
Except for one.
A pink blanket lay inside.
Still warm.
Reed touched it.
Someone had been there recently.
Very recently.
“Detective.”
An officer stood near the far wall.
“You need to see this.”
There was a whiteboard.
Names had been written across it.
Some were crossed out.
Others had dates beside them.
Reed photographed everything.
Then he noticed one name at the bottom.
EMMA M.
Beside it was a date.
Today's date.
And one word.
TRANSFER.
Reed stared at it.
“Bag the board.”
Another officer called from the filing room.
“Detective!”
Reed ran.
The officer had opened one of the cabinets.
Inside were dozens of folders.
Each contained photographs of children.
Birth certificates.
Hospital records.
Foster placement documents.
Some were real.
Some were altered.
And some belonged to children officially listed as missing.
Reed immediately called his captain.
“We have a major scene.”
Then an officer shouted from upstairs.
“Vehicle!”
Everyone froze.
Headlights swept across the boarded windows.
Someone was approaching.
Reed drew his weapon.
“Positions.”
The vehicle stopped outside.
A door opened.
Footsteps crossed the porch.
Then stopped.
Whoever was outside seemed to realize something was wrong.
The footsteps suddenly ran.
“Police!”
Officers rushed outside.
A man sprinted toward a black SUV.
He almost reached it.
Almost.
Reed tackled him near the driver's door.
The man fought hard.
Too hard.
It took three officers to restrain him.
“Hands behind your back!”
“I didn't do anything!”
“Stop resisting!”
They cuffed him.
Reed rolled him over.
The man was in his sixties.
Expensive coat.
Gold watch.
Clean hands.
Not the kind of person anyone expected to find at an abandoned farmhouse before sunrise.
Reed searched his wallet.
Then he stopped.
Inside was a government identification card.
Dr. Franklin Hale.
Deputy Director.
State Department of Family and Child Services.
Reed stared at him.
“You've got to be kidding me.”
Hale smiled.
That smile disturbed Reed more than the underground rooms.
“You have no idea what you just walked into.”
Reed pulled him upright.
“Then enlighten me.”
Hale leaned close.
“You think Daniel Mercer runs this?”
Reed said nothing.
Hale laughed quietly.
“Daniel is terrified.”
“Of whom?”
Hale's smile disappeared.
“Of the woman you haven't found yet.”
Back at St. Matthew's Hospital, Caleb suddenly woke from a nightmare.
Rebecca rushed to his bedside.
“Caleb.”
He sat upright.
“Aunt Rebecca.”
“I'm here.”
His breathing was wild.
“Where's Laura?”
“Right outside.”
I entered.
“What happened?”
Caleb looked at both of us.
“I remembered.”
“Remembered what?”
“The person who took Mom.”
Rebecca went completely still.
“Who?”
Caleb looked at her.
Then he said a name.
Rebecca's face turned white.
Because she knew it.
We all did.
The woman Caleb named had been standing beside Daniel on television for years.
His business partner.
His public advocate.
May you like
And the woman currently serving as president of Mercer Child Services.
“Victoria Crane.”
