Chapter 2 - The Face of the Dead
I reached the medical corridor before the second alarm finished sounding.
Prescott was three steps behind me.
Two guards were already positioned near Jonah and Blythe’s room. Another security team rushed from the opposite stairwell.
“Status!”
“South-side intrusion contained,” a guard shouted. “Three suspects. One down, two detained.”
“Medical wing?”
“Clear.”
I slammed through the door anyway.
Jonah woke immediately.
“Dad?”
Blythe stirred beside him.
I crossed the room so quickly I nearly knocked over an IV pole.
“I’m here.”
Jonah stared toward the hallway.
“Why are the alarms on?”
“Security drill.”
He knew I was lying.
Six-year-olds were not supposed to know when armed men were attacking their home.
Mine did.
Blythe reached toward me.
I lifted her carefully.
She weighed almost nothing anymore.
That terrified me more than the gunfire.
“Did somebody bad come?” she whispered.
“No.”
She rested her cheek against my chest.
“Your heart’s going fast.”
I closed my eyes.
“Because I ran.”
“You always tell me not to run inside.”
Despite everything, I almost laughed.
“Then I’m a hypocrite.”
“What’s that?”
“A grown-up who gives advice he doesn’t follow.”
Jonah raised one weak hand.
“That’s you.”
Prescott coughed to hide a laugh.
I pointed at him.
“Not a word.”
Then Blythe looked beyond my shoulder.
Her body became completely still.
I followed her gaze.
Adeline stood in the doorway.
Nobody had invited her.
One of the guards was beside her, clearly uncertain whether dragging my dead wife’s identical twin away from two dying children was covered in his training.
Blythe stared.
“Mommy?”
The word destroyed the entire room.
Adeline’s face crumpled.
She turned away instantly.
I felt Blythe’s fingers tighten around my shirt.
“Mommy?”
“No, sweetheart.”
“But…”
Jonah had seen her too.
His eyes widened.
He didn’t speak.
Adeline wiped at her face.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I shouldn’t have come in.”
She started to leave.
Blythe cried out.
“Wait!”
Adeline froze.
My daughter pushed weakly against my chest until I lowered her to the bed.
“Come here.”
Nobody moved.
Blythe pointed.
“You look like her.”
Adeline slowly returned.
She stopped six feet from the bed.
“I did.”
“You knew my mommy?”
Adeline nodded.
“I knew her a long time ago.”
“How?”
I looked at Adeline.
She looked at me.
I hated this.
Genevieve should have been standing here.
She should have been the one explaining.
Not me.
Not a stranger wearing her face.
But my children had been surrounded by lies for too long.
“She was your mother’s sister,” I said.
Jonah blinked.
“We have an aunt?”
“Yes.”
“Since when?”
Adeline gave a broken laugh.
“Technically since you were born.”
Jonah looked offended.
“Why didn’t you come to my birthday?”
Prescott turned his face away.
Adeline knelt slowly beside the bed.
“Because I didn’t know if it was safe.”
“Are you bad?”
“No.”
“Is Dad bad?”
“Jonah.”
Adeline smiled faintly.
“Sometimes.”
My son actually laughed.
A weak little sound.
I would have allowed someone to insult me for hours if it made him laugh like that.
Blythe studied Adeline closely.
“What’s your name?”
“Addie.”
“Mommy’s name was Genevieve.”
“I know.”
“Daddy cries when nobody is looking.”
The room went silent.
I stared at my daughter.
Blythe shrugged.
“I saw.”
Adeline looked at me.
For once, there was no judgment.
Only understanding.
Dr. Yates entered before I could say anything.
He stopped dead when he saw Adeline.
His face lost all color.
“Franklin?”
His eyes moved between us.
“Who is that?”
“Genevieve’s twin.”
“That’s impossible.”
“So I’ve been told.”
He slowly approached.
“Identical?”
“Yes.”
Dr. Yates stared for another moment.
Then doctor replaced shock.
“When was your last complete blood panel?”
Adeline answered immediately.
“About eight months ago.”
“Medical conditions?”
“Mild anemia sometimes.”
“Medications?”
“Nothing.”
“Pregnancies?”
“No.”
“Surgeries?”
“Appendectomy at nineteen.”
“Cancer history?”
“Mother had aplastic anemia. Maternal grandfather had myelodysplastic syndrome.”
Dr. Yates looked at me sharply.
“You knew this?”
“No.”
“That changes things.”
Hope is dangerous.
Especially desperate hope.
I grabbed his arm before he could move away.
“Changes what?”
“Possibly nothing.”
“Don’t do that.”
“Lawson—”
“Do not give me one inch of hope and then hide behind medical language. Tell me.”
He exhaled.
“The twins haven’t responded adequately to their current protocol. Their marrow is failing to recover. A stem-cell transplant has always been theoretically possible, but we haven’t found a sufficiently compatible donor.”
“And her?”
“We test her now.”
“How long?”
“Preliminary compatibility can be expedited.”
“How long?”
“Hours for initial markers. More complete testing takes longer.”
“We don’t have longer.”
“I know.”
Adeline stood.
“Take whatever you need.”
Dr. Yates looked at her.
“This isn’t one vial of blood.”
“I understand.”
“If you match one of them, donation may still be dangerous.”
“Do it.”
“If you somehow match both—”
“Do it twice.”
His mouth tightened.
“You don’t even know these children.”
Adeline looked at Jonah and Blythe.
“No.”
Then her eyes moved to me.
“But my sister loved them.”
That was enough.
Within forty minutes, Adeline was inside the medical suite with six tubes of blood lined across a tray.
I remained outside.
Prescott joined me.
“The attackers?”
“One dead. One unconscious. One talking.”
“Vane?”
“He claims he doesn’t know who hired him.”
“Then he’s lying.”
“Probably.”
“What were they carrying?”
“Weapons. Sedatives. Zip ties.”
My stomach hardened.
“They wanted someone alive.”
Prescott nodded toward the glass.
“Her?”
“Maybe.”
“Or the twins.”
I looked at him.
He didn’t need to explain.
Kidnapping dying children would be monstrous.
It would also destroy me.
Crosby Vane knew that.
I walked into the interrogation room ten minutes later.
The captured man was handcuffed to a steel chair.
Blood ran from his eyebrow.
He smiled when he saw me.
“Mercer.”
“Who hired you?”
“Go to hell.”
I pulled out the chair opposite him and sat.
“I don’t have time today.”
He laughed.
I placed a photograph of Crosby Vane on the table.
“Did he hire you?”
Nothing.
I added another picture.
A man named Mason Rourke.
One of Vane’s lieutenants.
The prisoner’s eyes shifted for less than a second.
Enough.
“Rourke.”
He smiled again.
“You got nothing.”
“My children are dying upstairs.”
His smile weakened.
“I have ten days of patience left in my entire life. I suggest you decide whether you want to spend the next ten minutes protecting a man who sent you into my home.”
He stared.
Then said, “We weren’t supposed to touch the kids.”
“Who were you supposed to take?”
Silence.
I leaned closer.
“Who?”
“The woman.”
Adeline.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Wrong answer.”
“I swear.”
“What did Rourke say?”
The man swallowed.
“He said she had something.”
“What?”
“Something she took from Rowan.”
My father-in-law had been dead for more than twenty years.
“What did she take?”
“I don’t know!”
“Documents?”
“Maybe.”
“Money?”
“No.”
“A recording?”
“I said I don’t know!”
I stood.
“Prescott.”
The door opened.
“Keep him breathing.”
The prisoner laughed nervously.
“What does that mean?”
I walked out without answering.
Back upstairs, Adeline sat at the kitchen table drinking water.
She looked terrible.
“Did you take something from your father before he died?”
She slowly lowered the glass.
“Who told you that?”
“The man who just tried to kidnap you.”
Her gaze moved toward the window.
“Addie.”
She flinched at the name.
I hated how naturally it had come out.
“What did you take?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t lie in my house.”
“I’m not.”
“Then why does Vane think you have something?”
“Because Genevieve told him I did.”
That made no sense.
“Why?”
“To keep him chasing me instead of her.”
The answer landed hard.
Adeline stood.
“When we were twenty-five, Genevieve learned Crosby was still looking for a ledger our father kept.”
“What ledger?”
“A record of payments. Names. Judges. Police. Businesses. Politicians. Everyone Silas Rowan paid or blackmailed.”
“And where is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Vane thinks you do.”
“Yes.”
“Genevieve intentionally made him think that?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Adeline smiled sadly.
“Because my sister was brave.”
“She was reckless.”
“That too.”
I looked toward the hallway where my children slept.
“And now her lie has brought armed men to them.”
Adeline’s face filled with guilt.
“I’ll leave.”
“No.”
She stared at me.
“You said—”
“You walk outside these gates, Vane takes you.”
“That’s not your problem.”
“It became my problem when he breached my property.”
“That sounds more like you.”
“What does?”
“Genevieve said you could turn anything emotional into a territorial dispute.”
I almost smiled.
Almost.
Then Dr. Yates entered.
He was holding a tablet.
Something in his face stopped both of us.
“Well?” I asked.
He looked at Adeline first.
Then me.
“We have the first compatibility results.”
My heart began pounding.
“Franklin.”
He swallowed.
“Adeline is an unusually strong match for Jonah.”
I closed my eyes.
One.
One child.
Hope and horror arrived together.
“And Blythe?”
Dr. Yates stared at the screen.
“That’s the part I can’t explain.”
“What?”
“She’s an even stronger match for Blythe.”
Adeline covered her mouth.
I stepped closer.
“You said finding one donor who could help both would be nearly impossible.”
“It is.”
“But she can?”
“Potentially.”
“Potentially?”
“We need confirmatory typing immediately. We need infectious-disease screening, imaging, organ testing, marrow evaluation. And we still need to get both children medically stable enough.”
“How long?”
“If everything aligns?”
He looked through the glass toward my children.
“We could begin preparing for transplant within days.”
For the first time since hearing the number ten, I felt something besides terror.
Hope.
Then Dr. Yates’s expression changed.
“There’s a problem.”
Of course there was.
“What?”
He handed me the tablet.
Adeline’s blood analysis filled the screen.
I understood almost none of it.
Dr. Yates pointed to one number.
“Her hemoglobin is low.”
“How low?”
“Low enough that I won’t clear her for two donations unless we correct it.”
Adeline immediately spoke.
“Then correct it.”
“We’ll try.”
“Try harder.”
“Addie—”
She turned on him.
“Those children have ten days. Pump me full of iron. Feed me steak. Hang me upside down. I don’t care.”
Jonah’s voice suddenly came from the doorway.
“You shouldn’t hang people upside down.”
We all turned.
He was standing there.
Barefoot.
Tiny.
His IV line trailing beside him.
I rushed over.
“What are you doing out of bed?”
“I heard talking.”
“You’re supposed to call someone.”
“I did.”
He pointed toward the room.
“Blythe won’t wake up.”
Every ounce of hope vanished.
Dr. Yates ran.
I followed.
Blythe lay perfectly still.
Her skin had gone gray.
The monitor began shrieking.
Nurses flooded the room.
“Pressure falling!”
“Blythe?”
I reached for her.
A nurse blocked me.
“Mr. Mercer, please.”
“That’s my daughter!”
“I know!”
Dr. Yates leaned over her.
“Blythe, sweetheart, open your eyes.”
Nothing.
Jonah grabbed my hand.
“Daddy?”
His fingers trembled.
“Why isn’t she waking up?”
I couldn’t answer.
Then Adeline dropped beside him.
She wrapped both arms around my son as his sister’s heart rate began falling.
And for the first time in my life, I found myself begging a God I wasn’t sure I believed in.
Not for money.
Not for victory.
May you like
Not for revenge.
Just one more day.
