Chapter 9 - The Letter in the Incubator
The basement maternity wing had been sealed for eleven years.
The door opened with a rusted groan.
Inside, the walls were blackened from the fire.
Boone found Emma first.
She was in a transport carrier.
Alive.
Unharmed.
Beside her sat Melissa.
Her hands were tied.
“I'm sorry,” she whispered.
“Who did this?”
She looked at Boone.
“Vale.”
“Where is he?”
“Gone.”
I picked up Emma.
She immediately stopped crying.
Then I noticed something sewn into the lining of her blanket.
A letter.
Rachel's handwriting.
I opened it.
Claire,
If you're reading this, then they found her.
I'm sorry.
Emma was never the evidence.
I stopped.
Boone leaned closer.
I continued.
The evidence is the person who carries the same blood as me.
My eyes moved to Melissa.
She shook her head.
“No.”
The letter continued.
There is another child.
A child everyone believes died.
Find my son.
I looked at Boone.
“Son?”
He whispered,
“I didn't know.”
Then we heard footsteps.
Someone was coming down the stairs.
Boone pushed us behind a concrete pillar.
A man's voice echoed through the basement.
“Mercer.”
Adrian Vale.
He stepped into the light.
Older than the photograph.
Calm.
Smiling.
“Give me the baby.”
Boone raised his weapon.
Vale laughed.
“You won't shoot me.”
“Try me.”
Vale looked at me.
“You still don't remember everything, Claire.”
“I remember enough.”
“No.”
He smiled.
“You remember what I allowed you to remember.”
Then he pointed toward the wall.
A hidden door opened.
Behind it was a room filled with old medical equipment.
And photographs.
Dozens of photographs.
All of Emma.
From birth.
From infancy.
May you like
From yesterday.
Someone had been watching her for eleven years.
