Chapter 10 - The Photograph
From InsideFor ten full seconds, I stared at the photograph on my phone.
Emma was asleep.
Her stuffed rabbit was tucked beneath one arm.
The blanket had slipped slightly from her shoulder.
The image had been taken from inside the room.
Not through a window.
Not from the hallway.
Inside.
Someone had stood only a few feet away from my daughter.
Someone had bypassed the secure facility.
Someone had walked past armed guards, cameras, nurses, locked doors, and restricted access.
And then they had taken a photograph.
Harper snatched the phone from my hand.
"Do not respond."
I looked at her.
"They're inside."
"I know."
"My daughter is there."
"I know."
"Then move."
Harper was already calling the facility.
No answer.
She called again.
Nothing.
Brooks tried another number.
Still nothing.
The silence coming from the safe house was worse than screaming.
Harper grabbed her coat.
"We're going."
I followed.
"No."
She turned.
"You stay here."
I laughed once.
"You think I'm staying behind?"
"Whoever sent that message wants you moving."
"I don't care."
"You should."
"They told you to come alone."
"They know where Emma is."
"Which means they know where I'll go whether I answer or not."
Harper's eyes hardened.
"Exactly."
She pointed at me.
"That means you're part of the trap."
I stepped closer.
"So what?"
"So we don't walk into traps exactly the way they're designed."
I hated her calm.
I hated that she was right.
Then another message appeared.
THIS ISN'T VICTOR.
Harper read it over my shoulder.
Brooks frowned.
"That changes things."
"Or it's bait," Harper said.
A third message appeared.
IF VICTOR FINDS HER FIRST, EMMA DIES.
My chest tightened.
Then a fourth.
CHECK THE CAMERA ABOVE HER DOOR.
Harper looked at Brooks.
"Call the facility's security network."
Brooks pulled out his laptop.
Within seconds, he was inside the remote system.
The feed from Emma's corridor appeared.
Empty hallway.
One guard at the far end.
No visible threat.
Brooks rewound the footage.
Ten minutes.
Twenty.
Thirty.
Nothing.
Then Harper pointed.
"Stop."
The image froze.
At 2:13 a.m., the feed jumped forward six seconds.
No static.
No distortion.
Just six missing seconds.
"Again."
Brooks scanned another camera.
Same gap.
2:13 a.m.
Six seconds missing.
Every camera in the building had lost exactly the same six seconds.
"Somebody edited the system," Brooks said.
Harper stared at the screen.
"From inside?"
"Could be remote."
Then he checked access logs.
One administrator account had opened the network at 2:12.
The username belonged to the facility director.
Dr. Elaine Mercer.
Harper's expression changed.
"Where is Mercer?"
Brooks typed quickly.
"According to staff scheduling..."
He stopped.
"What?"
"She's not there tonight."
"Where is she?"
"Home."
Harper looked toward me.
"Find her."
We arrived at Dr. Mercer's house twenty minutes later.
Her front door was open.
No lights.
No car in the driveway.
No sign of forced entry.
Harper entered first.
Brooks followed.
I stayed near the front steps until Harper waved me inside.
The living room was immaculate.
A half-finished cup of tea sat on the coffee table.
A television remote rested beside it.
A lamp was still on.
Mercer had not left normally.
Brooks checked the kitchen.
Harper checked the bedroom.
Then she called from the study.
"Daniel."
I entered.
One entire wall was covered in photographs.
Not family photographs.
Case photographs.
Victor Harrington.
Diana.
Rachel.
Grace.
Lily.
Emma.
Myself.
Every person in the investigation.
Dates were written beneath them.
Lines connected one name to another.
Harper slowly approached the wall.
"Mercer knew about this case before Emma ever came to the facility."
My mouth went dry.
"How long?"
Brooks opened a filing cabinet.
"Years."
He pulled out folders.
Each carried the Harrington name.
Old newspaper clippings.
Hospital records.
Court documents.
Childcare licensing complaints.
Some were nearly fifteen years old.
"This isn't an accomplice's collection," Harper said quietly.
I looked at her.
"What does that mean?"
"An accomplice hides evidence."
"This looks like someone building a case."
I stared at the wall.
"So Mercer has been investigating Victor?"
"Possibly."
"Then why take Emma's picture?"
"We don't know that she did."
Brooks opened a drawer beneath the desk.
Inside lay a stack of old cassette tapes.
One had Rachel's name on it.
I froze.
"Play it."
Harper looked at me.
"Daniel."
"Play it."
Brooks found an old recorder on the shelf.
The tape clicked into place.
Static crackled.
Then Rachel's voice filled the room.
"If anyone finds this recording, my name is Rachel Carter."
My knees nearly gave out.
Her voice sounded younger.
Clearer.
Alive.
"I am making this statement because I no longer trust the internal hospital review."
Harper slowly sat down.
Rachel continued.
"Dr. Victor Harrington has been using his foundation to gain access to medically vulnerable children."
"He targets families already under pressure."
"Single parents."
"Children in temporary custody."
"Families with financial problems."
"He tells administrators the children are receiving enhanced behavioral support."
"They are not."
The tape clicked.
Then Rachel said something none of us expected.
"Dr. Elaine Mercer is the only physician who believed me."
I looked at Harper.
Mercer.
Rachel knew Mercer.
The recording continued.
"Elaine helped me copy the files."
"She told me Victor would destroy both our careers if we went public without proof."
"So we're documenting everything."
Harper stared at the recorder.
Mercer wasn't working for Victor.
She had been working with Rachel.
Then Rachel said one final thing.
"If anything happens to me, Elaine knows where I hid the original evidence."
The tape stopped.
Silence filled the study.
Brooks slowly turned toward Harper.
"Where's Mercer?"
Nobody knew.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered before Harper could stop me.
"Hello?"
For a second, there was only breathing.
Then a woman's voice.
Older.
Shaking.
"Daniel?"
I stopped breathing.
I knew that voice.
Even after seven years.
Even through fear.
Even through static.
I knew it.
"Rachel?"
Silence.
Then she whispered.
"I'm sorry."
My entire body went numb.
"Rachel?"
Harper moved closer.
I put the phone on speaker.
"Where are you?"
Rachel began crying.
"I don't have much time."
"You're alive."
"I know."
"You're alive."
"I said the words again because my brain couldn't accept them."
"You let me bury you."
Her breathing caught.
"Daniel..."
"You let Emma grow up without you."
"I had no choice."
"Seven years."
"I know."
"Seven years."
"I thought every birthday you missed was because you were dead."
"I know."
"Where are you?"
She didn't answer.
Instead she said something that changed everything.
"Elaine has Emma."
Harper's eyes widened.
"What?"
"She moved her."
I gripped the phone.
"Why?"
"Because the safe house was compromised."
"Who compromised it?"
"Victor."
"How?"
"Someone on the protection team has been giving him locations."
Harper looked at Brooks.
"Who?"
Rachel's voice became urgent.
"We don't know."
"Elaine found out tonight."
"She cut the cameras and moved Emma before Victor's people arrived."
My heart hammered.
"The photograph?"
"Elaine sent it."
"Why?"
"She needed to prove Emma was alive."
"Then why tell me to come alone?"
Rachel was silent.
Harper leaned toward the phone.
"Rachel, this is Detective Harper."
"I know who you are."
Harper froze.
Rachel continued.
"I've been watching the investigation."
"Then tell us where Emma is."
"I can't."
"Why?"
"Because your department has a leak."
Harper's face hardened.
"Who?"
"I don't know."
"That's convenient."
Rachel ignored the comment.
"Listen to me."
"Victor is going to Saint Mary's."
"Grace is already there."
"Why?"
"Because that's where everything started."
I stared at Harper.
"What started?"
May you like
Rachel answered.
"The program."
