Chapter 2 - The Soldier Who Knew Her Name
For three seconds, nobody moved.
The photograph remained between my fingers.
Boone Mercer stared at it as if someone had just opened a grave in the middle of the NICU.
I looked down at the image again.
It showed a much younger Boone.
Same eyes.
Same jaw.
But no scars.
He stood beside a woman who couldn't have been more than twenty-five. Her face was turned toward the camera, and she was smiling.
In her arms was a tiny bundle.
A newborn baby.
A baby wearing the exact same identification bracelet now wrapped around Baby Parker's wrist.
My heart hammered.
The date printed in the corner was eleven years old.
Eleven years.
The same amount of time I had worked at Riverbend.
The same amount of time since I had started seeing parents arrive in this hospital carrying fear, hope, exhaustion, and sometimes grief.
But I had never seen that woman.
Never seen that baby.
And I'd certainly never seen Boone Mercer.
At least, I thought I hadn't.
“Where did you get this?” I asked.
Boone didn't answer.
“Mr. Mercer.”
His eyes lifted.
“Where did you get this photograph?”
“I didn't.”
“You're in it.”
“I know.”
“Then explain it.”
His jaw tightened.
Baby Parker whimpered against his chest.
Boone immediately lowered his eyes.
The change was startling.
One second, he was a heavily scarred man who looked capable of surviving almost anything.
The next, he was terrified of upsetting a two-pound infant.
“She needs to stay calm,” he whispered.
I stepped closer.
“She needs the truth.”
Boone looked at me.
“You don't know what you're asking.”
“Then tell me.”
“I can't.”
“Why?”
“Because if I tell you, she becomes a target.”
My blood ran cold.
Melissa stepped between us.
“A target for who?”
Boone looked toward the NICU doors.
Nobody was standing there.
But his eyes remained fixed on them.
“Whoever sent you that photograph.”
The security officer shifted uneasily.
“Should I call the police?”
Boone's answer came immediately.
“No.”
I turned toward him.
“Why not?”
“Because if they wanted the police involved, they would've called them themselves.”
That made no sense.
“Who are they?”
Boone didn't respond.
I looked at the photograph again.
The woman beside him was smiling.
She didn't look frightened.
She looked happy.
And Boone looked at her with an expression I'd never seen on his face before.
Love.
Not romantic love.
Something deeper.
Protective.
Almost familial.
“Who is she?” I asked.
His eyes closed.
“My sister.”
The answer hit me harder than I expected.
“You said you knew Baby Parker's mother.”
“I knew her.”
“You said you were there when she was born.”
“I was nearby.”
“You said she didn't leave because she didn't want her.”
His expression tightened.
“She didn't.”
“Then where is she?”
Boone looked at the baby.
“Dead.”
The word hung in the air.
Melissa covered her mouth.
I stared at him.
“When?”
“Eleven years ago.”
I looked at the photograph.
The young woman was alive when it was taken.
She was holding a baby.
And Boone had been standing beside her.
“What was her name?”
He didn't answer.
“Boone.”
He finally looked at me.
“Rachel Mercer.”
I felt something twist inside my chest.
“Your sister?”
“Yes.”
“And the baby?”
His silence was answer enough.
I looked toward Baby Parker.
“No.”
Boone nodded once.
“Yes.”
I couldn't breathe.
“That's Rachel's baby?”
“Yes.”
“Then why is she listed as Baby Girl Parker?”
“Because Parker isn't her real name.”
I looked at the identification band.
“Then what is?”
Boone stared at the tiny face sleeping against him.
“Emma.”
I whispered it.
“Emma.”
His eyes became wet.
“Emma Mercer.”
The baby moved.
Her tiny mouth opened.
Boone gently rocked her.
I watched his scarred hand support the back of her head.
“Why didn't you tell us?”
“Because I wasn't supposed to be here.”
“What does that mean?”
“I wasn't supposed to survive either.”
Before I could respond, a monitor alarm sounded.
Baby Parker's oxygen saturation dropped.
“Move!”
I reached for the incubator.
Boone immediately handed her to me.
The second her body left his chest, she began screaming.
Her tiny arms jerked.
“It's okay,” I whispered.
I adjusted her position.
“Come on, sweetheart.”
The monitor continued alarming.
Boone stood frozen.
His hands shook violently.
Not slightly.
Not the tremor I'd noticed earlier.
His entire body was trembling.
“I can't lose her again,” he whispered.
I looked at him.
“Again?”
He stared at the incubator.
Then something happened that I'd never seen before.
Boone sank into the chair beside the incubator and covered his face.
A man who looked like he'd been carved out of stone began silently crying.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just tears slipping between his fingers.
Melissa glanced at me.
I knew what she was thinking.
There was a story here.
And it was bigger than either of us had imagined.
The baby's oxygen level began climbing.
The alarm stopped.
Boone lifted his head.
His eyes were red.
“Can I hold her?”
I hesitated.
Then nodded.
He stood.
I carefully placed Emma against his chest again.
Instantly, she calmed.
Her fingers curled into his shirt.
Boone looked down at her.
“I promised your mother,” he whispered.
I leaned closer.
“What did you promise?”
His lips barely moved.
“That I'd come back.”
“From where?”
He didn't answer.
Instead, he looked at me.
“Do you have access to the old hospital records?”
My heart skipped.
“Why?”
“Because the answer you're looking for is in them.”
“What answer?”
“Why Rachel disappeared.”
I stared at him.
“Rachel disappeared from Riverbend?”
“Yes.”
“Eleven years ago?”
“Yes.”
“That can't be right. I would've seen her file.”
“You haven't.”
“Why?”
“Because someone erased it.”
I felt a chill move down my spine.
Hospitals don't simply erase patients.
There are records.
Birth records.
Discharge records.
Insurance records.
Medication records.
Everything is documented.
Everything.
“Who erased it?”
Boone looked at me.
“I don't know.”
“But you suspect someone.”
His silence confirmed it.
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“You're not telling me everything.”
“No.”
“Then start.”
He looked down at Emma.
“My sister wasn't supposed to give birth here.”
“Where was she supposed to go?”
“She never made it.”
“Why?”
“She was running.”
“From whom?”
Boone's expression hardened.
“People who didn't want this baby born.”
The room suddenly felt colder.
I looked at Emma.
She was sleeping peacefully against his chest.
A baby who had entered the world with no mother, no father listed on her paperwork, and no family waiting outside.
Except one man.
A man who apparently had been searching for her for eleven years.
I lowered my voice.
“Why did you wait eleven years?”
His eyes met mine.
“I didn't.”
“What?”
“I've been looking for her every day.”
“Then why did you only show up now?”
His face changed.
Fear.
Real fear.
“I didn't find her.”
He glanced toward the NICU doors.
“She found me.”
I frowned.
“That doesn't make sense.”
“It will.”
Before I could ask another question, the security officer hurried toward us.
“Claire.”
I turned.
“What?”
He held up a tablet.
“We checked the exterior cameras.”
My stomach tightened.
“And?”
“There was a woman outside the hospital about twenty minutes ago.”
“Who?”
“We don't know.”
He turned the screen toward me.
The image showed a woman standing across the street.
Dark coat.
Dark hair.
Face partially hidden.
She was looking directly at the hospital.
At the exact window of the NICU.
My blood ran cold.
“Can you zoom in?”
The officer did.
The woman's face became clearer.
Boone stepped beside me.
The moment he saw her, all the color disappeared from his face.
“You know her,” I whispered.
He nodded.
“Who is she?”
His eyes remained fixed on the screen.
“Rachel.”
My heart stopped.
“That woman is your sister?”
“No.”
He pointed toward the photograph in my hand.
“She was standing beside Rachel.”
I looked again.
The woman in the old photograph.
Then the security image.
Same eyes.
Same face.
Older now.
But unmistakable.
“Who is she?”
Boone's voice dropped to almost nothing.
“The woman who killed my sister.”
Suddenly, the NICU lights went out.
Every monitor went black.
For one terrifying second, the entire unit disappeared into darkness.
Then the emergency lights flashed red.
A scream came from the hallway.
Someone had pulled the fire alarm.
And somewhere behind us, a door slammed.
Boone shoved himself between me and Baby Emma.
His entire body changed.
The shaking stopped.
His eyes became cold.
Focused.
Military.
“Get the baby into the secure room,” he ordered.
I stared at him.
“You're a volunteer.”
He looked at me.
“No.”
Then he reached beneath his shirt.
May you like
And pulled out a weapon.
“I was never a volunteer.”
