Chapter 13 - THE MAN BEHIND THE PROGRAM
Thomas denied it immediately.
“No.”
Sarah didn't blink.
“You know who he is.”
“I know who Richard is.”
“You know what he did.”
“No.”
“You saw the files.”
Thomas looked at me.
“I didn't know.”
Sarah stepped closer.
“Dad trusted Richard.”
I froze.
“Your father knew him?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“He worked for Dad.”
I stared at Thomas.
“You never told me.”
“Because I didn't know.”
Sarah continued.
“Richard was young when the research began. He wasn't a doctor. He handled the money.”
“Money?”
“Payments. Accounts. False identities.”
Detective Reed's expression hardened.
“And now?”
“Now he runs everything.”
I remembered the man standing beside Thomas at the hospital.
Calm.
Confident.
Untouchable.
I suddenly understood why he had seemed so comfortable around police.
He wasn't afraid of being questioned.
He was afraid of being exposed.
Detective Reed received a phone call.
He listened.
Then looked at us.
“Richard Kane is gone.”
“Gone where?” I asked.
“His house is empty.”
Sarah whispered:
“He knows.”
“What?”
“He knows we found the basement.”
My phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
A photograph appeared.
Mason sleeping in the hospital.
Taken moments earlier.
Underneath it was a message:
COME ALONE.
I looked at Detective Reed.
“Don't respond.”
Another message arrived.
OR YOUR DAUGHTER DIES.
I looked at Sarah.
She was already crying.
Then another photograph appeared.
Sarah tied to a chair.
I turned toward her.
“You're here.”
She nodded.
“That's not me.”
Detective Reed stared at the photograph.
“Whoever is doing this has access to incredibly sophisticated equipment.”
Then my phone rang.
A man's voice.
Richard.
“Mrs. Russell.”
“Where is my grandson?”
“Safe.”
“If you hurt him—”
“I don't want to hurt Mason.”
“Then what do you want?”
“The files.”
“What files?”
“The ones your husband left behind.”
“I don't have them.”
“You do.”
I looked at the basement.
Richard continued.
“Bring them to the old St. Catherine's facility.”
“That's been abandoned for years.”
“Exactly.”
“What happens if I don't?”
He laughed quietly.
“You already know.”
The call ended.
Detective Reed looked at me.
“You're not going.”
“I am.”
“No.”
“My grandson is in danger.”
“And that's exactly why this is a trap.”
Sarah stepped forward.
“Then let me go.”
I looked at her.
“No.”
“Mom—”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“This started because of me.”
“It started long before you were born.”
Thomas stepped forward.
“I'll go.”
I stared at my son.
“You're the reason they know where we are.”
“I know.”
“And you may be the only person who can get Mason back.”
He nodded.
“I'll do it.”
Detective Reed looked at all three of us.
Then he said:
“None of you are going alone.”
We returned to the hospital first.
Mason was still under police protection.
But something was wrong.
His room was empty again.
The nurse screamed.
I ran down the corridor.
The crib was empty.
The window was locked.
The door was guarded.
No one could explain it.
Then we heard a sound from the supply closet.
A baby's cry.
Detective Reed opened the door.
Mason was inside.
Wrapped in a blanket.
Alive.
Beside him was a small recorder.
Detective Reed pressed play.
Richard's voice filled the hallway.
“Your family has spent thirty years trying to escape.”
A pause.
“You never understood the truth.”
Then:
“You weren't chosen because Mason is special.”
I held Mason tighter.
Richard continued:
“Mason is special because Helen Russell is his grandmother.”
I froze.
My blood turned cold.
The recording ended.
Everyone looked at me.
I whispered:
“What does that mean?”
Sarah stared at the floor.
Then she said:
“Mom…”
May you like
“What?”
“You were the original subject.”
