Chapter 8 - THE EMPTY ROOM
By morning, Mason was gone.
I woke in the hospital chair beside his bed.
For several seconds, I didn't understand what was wrong.
Then I saw the empty crib.
My heart stopped.
“Mason?”
I stood.
“Mason?”
The blanket was gone.
The IV equipment had been disconnected.
The room was empty.
I screamed for help.
Nurses rushed inside.
“Where is my grandson?”
Nobody answered.
A nurse checked the chart.
“He was transferred.”
“Transferred where?”
She looked confused.
“He wasn't scheduled for transfer.”
My blood turned cold.
Detective Reed arrived within minutes.
“What happened?”
“Mason is gone.”
His face hardened.
“Who moved him?”
“We're checking.”
The hospital went into lockdown.
Every exit was secured.
Security officers searched the building.
No Mason.
No Vanessa.
No unknown woman.
Then they found footage.
A person wearing scrubs entered Mason's room at 3:17 a.m.
The camera angle showed the silver bracelet.
The person carried Mason out.
But there was another detail.
The person wasn't Vanessa.
The body was too broad.
The walk was wrong.
Detective Reed enlarged the image.
A man's face appeared beneath the mask.
Thomas saw it.
Then he whispered:
“No.”
“What?”
He stepped closer to the screen.
“That's my father.”
I stared at him.
“That can't be.”
“My father is dead.”
Detective Reed turned toward him.
“Are you sure?”
“I buried him.”
The detective zoomed in.
The man turned his head.
There was a scar beneath his left ear.
Thomas's father had that scar.
I remembered it.
I had kissed that scar dozens of times when we were young.
But my husband had been dead for twelve years.
“This is impossible,” I whispered.
Then another officer ran in.
“Detective!”
“What?”
“We found the baby's blanket.”
“Where?”
“In the parking garage.”
He handed over an evidence bag.
There was something inside.
A small handwritten note.
Detective Reed opened it.
I watched his face change.
“What does it say?”
He handed it to me.
Three words.
ASK YOUR HUSBAND.
I looked at Thomas.
He was shaking.
“My father is dead.”
I whispered:
“Then someone wants us to believe he isn't.”
Detective Reed immediately ordered a search of the hospital.
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
His face became completely still.
“What?”
He hung up.
“What happened?”
“They found Mason.”
My knees nearly collapsed.
“Where?”
“An abandoned warehouse.”
“Is he alive?”
“Yes.”
I covered my mouth.
“Is he hurt?”
“We don't know.”
“Take me there.”
“No.”
“Detective—”
“You're staying here.”
“He's my grandson.”
“I know.”
“Then let me go.”
He looked at me.
“Mrs. Russell…”
His voice softened.
“The person who took Mason left something else.”
“What?”
“A photograph.”
He handed it to me.
It showed Mason sleeping in someone's arms.
Behind him was a wall.
On the wall were photographs.
Dozens of them.
Thomas.
Me.
Ellie.
My husband.
Mason.
Our entire family.
May you like
And beneath the photographs was a sentence written in black marker:
THREE GENERATIONS. ONE EXPERIMENT.
