Chapter 6: Twelve Years Ago
The fire alarm screamed through the hospital.
Red lights flashed across the records room.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then Roy grabbed my arm.
"We need to go.""
I pulled away.
"No.""
"Vanessa, now.""
"You don't get to say 'now' anymore.""
Another alarm sounded from somewhere below us.
Mason opened the emergency exit.
"Argue later. Move.""
Tessa was crying.
"I can't leave without knowing what's happening.""
"You'll die knowing nothing if you stay here," Mason snapped.
That was enough.
We ran.
The stairwell filled with the metallic shriek of alarms and the pounding of our shoes.
On the second floor, smoke drifted beneath a doorway.
Roy stopped.
"Not that way.""
"How do you know?""
"I smelled it.""
He pointed toward another corridor.
"This wing connects to the old surgical entrance.""
We followed him.
As we moved, I noticed something.
Roy wasn't panicking.
He was calculating.
Which doors were locked.
Which cameras were active.
Which exits were clear.
He'd been preparing for something like this.
I finally understood what scared me most.
My husband hadn't suddenly become secretive.
He had been living inside a secret for months.
And I had been standing beside him without knowing.
We reached the ambulance entrance.
Cold air hit my face.
Police cars were already arriving.
Hospital employees stood outside in clusters.
Someone shouted that the fire was contained.
Roy turned toward me.
"We need somewhere private.""
I laughed.
"Private?""
"Vanessa—"
"You have five minutes.""
His expression tightened.
"Five minutes for what?""
"The truth.""
He looked at Mason.
Then Tessa.
Finally, he nodded.
"Fine.""
We got into Mason's car.
He drove three blocks before pulling into an empty parking garage.
The alarms from the hospital faded behind us.
I turned toward Roy.
"Talk.""
He stared through the windshield.
"Twenty-two years ago, my father worked at St. Catherine's.""
I frowned.
"Your father?""
"Dr. Richard Callahan.""
I'd heard the name.
Roy's father had been a surgeon too.
He'd died before Roy and I married.
"He was one of the founders of the surgical program," Roy continued.
"He also helped establish the fertility clinic.""
Tessa leaned forward.
"What does that have to do with me?""
"Everything.""
Roy looked at me.
"Twelve years ago, the clinic had a problem.""
"What problem?""
"A batch of embryos was mislabeled.""
Tessa covered her mouth.
Mason went completely still.
Roy continued.
"Not accidentally.""
My heart sank.
"What are you saying?""
"Someone deliberately switched genetic labels.""
"Why?""
"Money.""
He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small notebook.
"The clinic had wealthy clients. Some were desperate for biological children. Others wanted specific donors.""
He opened it.
"Certain doctors realized they could sell access to genetic material.""
Tessa whispered, "You mean embryos?""
"Embryos. Sperm. Eggs. Anything.""
I stared at him.
"And you knew?""
"No.""
"Then how did you get involved?""
"Because my father discovered it.""
Roy turned another page.
"He started collecting evidence.""
"Against whom?""
"The people running it.""
"Who?""
He looked at Mason.
Mason answered.
"Three administrators. Two physicians. One outside investor.""
Roy nodded.
"One of those physicians was Dr. Daniel Mercer.""
I frowned.
"But you said Daniel Mercer doesn't exist.""
"He doesn't now.""
My stomach tightened.
"What does that mean?""
Roy looked at me.
"Daniel Mercer was the name of a surgeon who died twelve years ago.""
Silence.
"Then who is using his name?""
"We don't know.""
I thought about the messages.
D.M.
The fake records.
The surveillance.
"Why did this start again now?""
Roy's fingers tightened around the notebook.
"Because someone found my father's files.""
"Where?""
"In our house.""
I stared at him.
"Our house?""
"Six months ago.""
"Where?""
"In the attic.""
I almost laughed.
"The attic?""
"My father left me a box.""
"You never told me.""
"I didn't want to drag you into it.""
"You already did.""
He lowered his eyes.
Inside the notebook were handwritten notes.
Dates.
Patient numbers.
Genetic profiles.
And one sentence circled repeatedly:
*The source must remain unaware.*
I read it twice.
"What source?""
Roy didn't answer.
Mason did.
"The genetic source.""
I looked at Tessa.
Then at Roy.
Then at my own hands.
"Me.""
Roy nodded.
My stomach turned.
"Why me?""
"Because your DNA was collected twelve years ago.""
I froze.
"For what?""
Roy swallowed.
"The hospital ran a voluntary genetic screening program for staff.""
I remembered it.
Every employee had been offered testing.
I'd participated because I was young, healthy, and curious about my family history.
"But those samples were supposed to be destroyed.""
"They were.""
He paused.
"Some weren't.""
I looked at him.
"How do you know?""
"Because my father's notes contained your sample number.""
The garage suddenly felt too small.
"Why would he have my sample?""
"He didn't.""
Roy shook his head.
"Someone took it from the lab.""
"Who?""
"We don't know.""
I looked at the notebook again.
There was a page with several names.
Most were crossed out.
One wasn't.
*Vanessa Callahan.*
My name.
Underneath it was a date.
The date was twelve years ago.
And beside it:
*Perfect genetic profile.*
I couldn't breathe.
"Roy...""
"I'm sorry.""
"You knew my name was in that notebook.""
"Yes.""
"For how long?""
"Six months.""
"Six months?""
"I wanted to know why.""
"You could have told me.""
"I was trying to protect you.""
"No.""
I looked directly at him.
"You were trying to protect yourself from having to tell me.""
His eyes filled with tears.
Before he could answer, Tessa's phone buzzed.
She looked down.
A new message.
Her face drained of color.
"What?""
She turned the screen toward us.
It said:
*Bring Vanessa to the old fertility wing. Alone.*
Then another message arrived.
*If she doesn't come, Tessa's baby dies tonight.*
Roy grabbed the phone.
"No.""
Tessa started shaking.
"They know where we are.""
Mason looked at me.
"Vanessa, don't go.""
I stared at the message.
Then I noticed something.
The sender had included an image.
A photograph of a newborn nursery.
One of the bassinets was empty.
Under it was written:
*You have one hour.*
I looked at Roy.
"Take me there.""
"No.""
"Roy.""
"They want you.""
"Exactly.""
"That's why you're not going.""
I shook my head.
"They already have my DNA. They already have my records. They already know my movements.""
I held up the phone.
"And now they're threatening a pregnant woman.""
Roy stared at me.
"What are you planning?""
"The same thing I should have done yesterday.""
"What?""
"Stop reacting.""
I closed the notebook.
"And start investigating.""
Mason looked at me.
"How?""
I smiled without humor.
"By going to the one place they think I won't.""
Roy's eyes narrowed.
"Where?""
May you like
"The fertility lab.""
And for the first time since this nightmare began, my husband looked afraid of what I might discover.
