Chapter 8: My Brother's Final Betrayal
Richard drove like a man who had already decided he had nothing left to lose.
Rain hammered the windshield. The wipers struggled to keep pace, and the headlights carved narrow tunnels through the darkness.
I gripped the dashboard.
“Slow down!””
“Not until we catch them.””
“You said you knew where they were taking Lily.””
“I do.””
“Then tell me!””
Richard swerved around a delivery truck.
“An old medical facility in Connecticut. Whitmore owns the property through a private holding company.””
“Why would he take Lily there?””
“Because that's where the original research records are stored.””
I stared at him.
“You knew about the facility?””
“Yes.””
“You knew Eleanor had been there?””
“Yes.””
“And you still let me believe she was dead.””
His jaw tightened.
“I've told you why.””
“No. You've told me what you want me to believe.””
He glanced at me.
“Then here's the truth. I was the one who arranged Eleanor's transfer after the hospital. I signed the documents.
I helped falsify the records. And I knew Natalie had died during the trial.””
I felt something inside me go still.
“You helped kill them?””
“No!””
The word came out so violently that he almost lost control of the car.
“I didn't know what Whitmore was doing until it was too late. I believed the medication program was legitimate. I approved funding because the research was supposed to help patients with rare cardiac conditions.””
“And when you found out people were dying?””
“I tried to shut it down.””
“When?””
“After Natalie died.””
I laughed without humor.
“How convenient.””
Richard's hands tightened around the steering wheel.
“Whitmore showed me the trial results. He said the deaths were caused by preexisting conditions. He showed me reports signed by doctors. I believed him.””
“Until Eleanor found the original records.””
“Yes.””
“And then you helped her disappear?””
“I helped her survive.””
“By letting me bury another woman.””
His face twisted.
“I never knew Natalie would be buried under Eleanor's name until the funeral arrangements were already underway.””
“But you went to the funeral.””
“Yes.””
“You stood beside me while I buried her.””
Richard's eyes filled.
“I know.””
“You held me when I couldn't stand.””
“I know.””
“You told me everything would be all right.””
He swallowed hard.
“I was trying to believe it myself.””
I turned toward the window.
For a moment, I could not bear to look at him.
Then I remembered the photograph of Eleanor in the wheelchair and the message threatening her life.
“Why did you file for custody of Lily?””
Richard was silent.
“Answer me.””
“Whitmore threatened to expose the financial transfers if I didn't cooperate. He said he'd make it look like I had stolen company funds to finance the research program.””
“Did you?””
“I approved the original investment. I didn't know the money was being used for illegal trials.””
“That isn't what I asked.””
Richard's silence was answer enough.
I leaned back.
“How much money?””
“Forty million dollars.””
The number seemed unreal.
Forty million dollars had passed through accounts connected to my company, and I had known nothing about it.
“Did you take any of it?””
“No.””
“Did you receive anything in return?””
Richard's face hardened.
“A promise.””
“What promise?””
“That if anything happened to Eleanor, the child would be protected.””
I stared at him.
“And you believed Whitmore?””
“I wanted to.””
We drove for another twenty minutes before Richard turned onto a narrow road bordered by bare trees. At the end stood a brick building with boarded windows and a rusted sign.
*Caldwell Medical Research Center.*
A security light illuminated the entrance.
Two vehicles were parked outside.
One was the black SUV from my house.
The other was a gray sedan.
Richard stopped behind a line of trees.
“This is where they brought Lily.””
“How do we get inside?””
“There's a service entrance on the east side.””
I reached for the door handle.
Richard caught my arm.
“David, there's something you need to know.””
I pulled free.
“Not another secret.””
“This one matters.””
He took a small key from his pocket.
“Whitmore doesn't just want Lily's medical records. He wants the original genetic samples from the trial. Eleanor told me that Lily's blood may contain evidence that could expose what they did to Natalie.””
“She's a baby.””
“That's why they need her. They believe her cells can help them recreate the treatment.””
I felt sick.
“And if they can't?””
Richard looked away.
“I don't know.””
I got out of the car.
The service entrance was hidden behind a row of dumpsters. Richard unlocked it, and we slipped inside.
The corridor smelled of disinfectant and damp plaster. Emergency lights glowed red along the walls.
Somewhere deeper in the building, a baby cried.
I ran toward the sound.
Richard followed.
We reached a room with a glass observation window. Inside, Lily lay in a hospital bassinet, her pink blanket folded beneath her chin. A woman in a white coat was checking a monitor beside her.
I tried the door.
Locked.
“Lily!””
The woman turned.
She looked directly at me, then reached for a phone.
Richard struck the glass with his fist.
“Open the door!””
A man stepped into the room behind the woman.
Thomas Whitmore.
He was in his early sixties, with silver hair and a calm, practiced smile. On his right hand was a silver ring with a black stone.
The same ring reflected in Eleanor's photograph.
He lifted a phone to his ear.
A speaker mounted above the door crackled.
“David Hayes,” he said.
“I was wondering when you'd arrive.””
“Open the door.””
“I'm afraid I can't do that.””
“She's my daughter!””
“Legally, that remains to be established.””
I slammed my shoulder against the door.
Whitmore barely reacted.
“Your brother understands the situation,” he continued.
“Perhaps you should ask him why he agreed to the arrangement.””
I turned toward Richard.
He looked as if he might be sick.
“Tell him,” Whitmore said.
Richard closed his eyes.
“David, I signed a document authorizing the transfer of Lily's medical records to the trust.””
“You said you were protecting her!””
“I thought I was.””
“What else did you sign?””
Richard's voice dropped.
“A consent form for genetic testing.””
I stared at him.
“You consented to experiments on my daughter?””
“No. I was told it was a standard screening procedure.””
Whitmore chuckled softly.
“Your brother has always been very good at signing documents without reading the fine print.””
I hit the door again.
“I'm going to destroy you.””
“Perhaps. But first, you should hear what your wife has to say.””
Whitmore tapped the phone.
A video appeared on the monitor inside the room.
Eleanor sat in a wheelchair, facing the camera. Her face was thinner than in the photographs, but her eyes were bright and unmistakable.
“David,” she said, “if you're watching this, then Whitmore has taken Lily.””
I stepped closer to the glass.
“Eleanor!””
The recording continued.
“There's something I never told you about the night Lily was born. The doctors believed the pregnancy was impossible because of my heart condition. But the treatment I received changed something in my blood. It allowed the pregnancy to continue.””
She paused, breathing with difficulty.
“Whitmore knew that. He wanted to study the effect on Lily. He believed she carried the key to reversing the damage caused by the experimental medication.””
The screen flickered.
Eleanor leaned closer to the camera.
“But David, I need you to understand something. Lily was never supposed to be part of the trial. Natalie was the first patient. She died because they ignored the warning signs.””
My throat tightened.
“Eleanor, where are you?””
The recording continued.
“If Whitmore has Lily, he will try to make you believe she's the only child connected to this research. She's not.””
The image froze.
Then Eleanor spoke again.
“David, Natalie had another baby.””
The screen went black.
I turned toward Whitmore.
“What did she mean?””
He smiled.
“That is a question your brother can answer.””
I looked at Richard.
His face had gone gray.
“Richard?””
He stared at Lily through the glass.
Then he whispered, “Natalie's second child was never supposed to survive.””
Before I could ask what he meant, a door opened behind us.
A woman stepped into the corridor.
She was holding a folder against her chest.
Her face was pale, her hair streaked with gray, and a thin scar ran above her left eyebrow.
I recognized her from the photograph.
Natalie Cross.
May you like
She looked at me, then at the room where Lily lay.
And she said, “Get away from my daughter.””
