Chapter 3 - The Girl They Chose
Emma lunged for the door.
Alexander caught her before she reached it.
"Let go!"
"If they wanted your mother dead, they wouldn't have shown us the camera."
"You don't know that."
"No," he said. "I know people who use fear as currency. They just made a purchase."
Emma hit his chest with both hands.
It did nothing.
Her eyes burned anyway.
"She's not part of this."
Evelyn spoke from the dark.
"Neither were you."
That quiet sentence hurt more than Alexander's grip.
Vale restored one isolated terminal. No outside network. He pulled the lobby feed from cached traffic.
The man who followed Rebecca Carter into the building exited three minutes later.
Alone.
Emma's mother appeared afterward, looking annoyed and confused, but unharmed. She checked her mailbox and went upstairs.
Emma sagged against the wall.
Then the lobby camera zoomed automatically on Rebecca's right hand.
A tiny adhesive bandage covered her palm.
Alexander stared.
"Why her hand?"
Emma called her mother.
Rebecca answered on the first ring.
"Emma? Where are you? The police called. They said there was an incident downtown."
Emma swallowed every honest answer.
"I'm okay. A man bumped into you downstairs?"
"Some idiot dropped his keys and grabbed my hand when I helped him up. Why?"
Emma looked at Alexander.
He had gone completely still.
"Nothing. Lock the door. Don't open it for anyone."
Rebecca's voice sharpened. "Emma—"
"Please."
A pause.
"Okay."
Emma ended the call.
Vale said, "They scanned her too."
"Why?" Emma asked.
No one answered.
Alexander picked up the locket. He studied the old photograph more carefully.
Then he noticed what he had missed in the alley.
Behind Evelyn, reflected in a hospital window, stood another woman.
Blonde.
Wearing a pale green surgical cap.
Emma leaned closer.
"That looks like my mom."
The room changed.
Rebecca Carter worked as a respiratory therapist at Cook County. She had for fourteen years.
Evelyn whispered, "No."
Emma turned. "You know her?"
"I know that face."
Seven months earlier, Evelyn had awakened for less than four minutes inside a private research ward after an emergency procedure. She had been sedated, confused, strapped to a bed.
A blonde respiratory therapist had adjusted the mask over her face.
Before Evelyn blacked out again, the woman leaned close and whispered: "Count the four notes. If you hear five, don't trust the room."
Emma felt cold despite the clinic heat.
"My mom says weird things like that."
Alexander looked at her.
"What things?"
"When I was little and scared of thunderstorms, she'd tap four times on my bedroom door before coming in. She said four meant family."
Evelyn's eyes filled.
Grace began fussing.
Emma rocked her instinctively.
Without thinking, she hummed the four-note tune.
Ding. Ding-ding. Ding.
Evelyn covered her mouth.
"Where did you learn that?"
Emma stopped.
"My mother."
Vale walked to a locked cabinet and removed an old paper file.
Not digital.
Real paper.
He laid it on the table.
Across the top was a patient code: C-17.
Under emergency contact, someone had written a name in ink.
Rebecca Carter.
Emma stared at it.
"Why is my mother's name in your file?"
Vale looked at Evelyn first, then at Alexander.
"Because Mrs. Carter was not a random hospital employee. She was the respiratory specialist assigned to the original Continuance neonatal team."
Emma shook her head.
"No. She works county shifts. She complains about parking. She buys store-brand cereal."
"People can do all three," Vale said.
Alexander flipped the next page.
There was a list of dates.
Emma's birthday appeared beside one.
Seventeen years ago.
The blood left her face.
"Why is my birthday there?"
Vale did not answer.
Alexander read the heading above the column.
"First successful live discharge."
Emma backed away.
"No."
Noah started to cry.
Grace answered.
Four notes hummed through the room from a hidden speaker.
But this time there was a fifth.
Ding. Ding-ding. Ding.
Ding.
Evelyn went white.
May you like
"Don't trust the room."
The ceiling vents opened.
