Chapter 6: The Missing Eight Minutes
I wanted to hit him.
I wanted to force him to explain every lie he'd told me since Rachel died, every secret he'd buried, every moment he'd watched me grieve while knowing something I didn't.
Instead, I stared at the photograph.
Rachel's fingers were wrapped around the wrist of the man standing beside her bed.
My wrist.
The gold wedding band was unmistakable.
"Tell me what happened," I said.
Mark glanced at Morgan.
"Not with her listening.""
Morgan raised her weapon slightly.
"You don't get to negotiate.""
"Then arrest me."" Mark's voice trembled.
"But if you do, Ava dies.""
The room fell silent.
Morgan lowered her weapon by an inch.
"Explain.""
Mark looked at me.
"Three years ago, I received a call from Dr. Whitmore. He said Rachel was deteriorating and needed an emergency medication adjustment. He told me you had approved it.""
"I never approved anything.""
"I know that now.""
"How?""
"Because I found the original authorization last week.""
My heart slammed against my ribs.
"Where is it?""
Mark shook his head.
"I don't have it anymore.""
"You're lying.""
"I gave it to someone who promised to help us expose the people behind this. That person disappeared two days later.""
"Adrian Cole?""
Mark nodded.
Morgan stepped closer.
"You handed evidence to a missing federal investigator and never reported it?""
"I reported it. My report disappeared.""
"Convenient.""
"You think I don't know how that sounds?"" Mark snapped.
"I've spent three years trying to undo what happened.""
I grabbed his jacket.
"What happened to my wife?""
Mark looked at me with red-rimmed eyes.
"She woke up while you were in the room.""
My grip loosened.
"That doesn't answer my question.""
"She grabbed your wrist and begged you not to let them take Ava.""
I shook my head.
"No.""
"She kept saying the same thing over and over. 'The bracelet. The bracelet.''
You looked confused. You asked her what she meant.""
My mouth went dry.
Mark continued.
"Then Dr. Whitmore came in. He told you Rachel was having a reaction and asked you to wait outside.
You refused. You said you'd stay with your wife.""
I could almost hear the machines in the hospital room.
Almost smell the antiseptic.
Almost feel Rachel's fingers around mine.
But the memory remained just beyond reach.
"What happened next?""
Mark closed his eyes.
"I left to get a nurse. When I came back, you were standing beside her bed. Dr.
Whitmore was gone. Rachel wasn't breathing.""
I stepped backward.
"You're saying I killed her?""
"No!""
His shout made Morgan raise her weapon again.
Mark lowered his voice.
"I'm saying someone made it look as though you had.""
I stared at the photograph.
"Then why did you let me believe it was a medical complication?""
"Because the hospital records said you authorized the medication. Because the police had a signed document. Because someone sent me a photograph of Ava leaving school and told me she'd be next if I said anything.""
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper.
"I kept this.""
Morgan took it from him.
It was a photocopy of a hospital medication order.
My name appeared beneath the authorization.
But the date was wrong.
The document was dated two days before Rachel's death, when I had been attending a construction conference in Chicago.
I remembered that trip clearly. I'd called Rachel every night. She'd complained that the hospital food tasted like cardboard and asked me to bring her a real cheeseburger when I returned.
I had arrived home the afternoon before she died.
"I was in Chicago," I said.
Morgan examined the document.
"That could support your claim that the signature was forged.""
Mark shook his head.
"It's worse than that.""
He pointed to the bottom of the page.
A second signature appeared beside the doctor's approval.
It belonged to Dr. Whitmore.
But someone had drawn a small circle around the initials beneath it.
R.C.
"What's that?"" I asked.
Mark's voice dropped.
"Rachel's initials.""
I frowned.
"She wasn't a doctor.""
"No. But she was listed as the witness to the authorization.""
I looked at him in disbelief.
"Rachel signed a document authorizing her own medication?""
"That's what the hospital claimed.""
"She would never have done that.""
"I know.""
Morgan placed the paper in an evidence sleeve.
"Where is Dr. Whitmore now?""
"I don't know.""
"Where did you last see him?""
"Three days ago. He called me and said someone had found the original authorization. He wanted to meet me privately.""
"Where?""
"An abandoned warehouse near the river.""
Morgan's expression tightened.
"And you went?""
Mark nodded.
"Someone attacked me before I got inside. I woke up in my car two hours later. My phone was gone, and there was blood on my shirt.""
I looked at the stain.
"Whose blood?""
"I don't know.""
Morgan studied him.
"Why didn't you come to the FBI?""
"Because the message they left on my windshield said Ava would die if I did.""
I paced toward the window.
Every answer led to another lie, another missing document, another person who knew more than they were willing to admit.
And my daughter was running out of time.
I turned back to Mark.
"You said you know where Ava is.""
He nodded.
"The old Whitmore Medical Research Center. It's been closed since the hospital expanded.""
Morgan immediately reached for her radio.
"Units are already checking that area.""
"No," Mark said.
"You can't go through the main entrance. They have cameras and someone watching the road.""
"How do you know?""
"Because I helped them install the security system.""
Morgan stared at him.
"You helped them?""
Mark's shoulders sagged.
"Before Rachel died, I handled several contracts for the research center. I thought it was legitimate. I didn't know what they were doing in the basement.""
"What were they doing?""
He looked at me.
"Testing experimental drugs on patients who couldn't afford private care. Rachel discovered the financial records, but she also found evidence that the medication administered to her had been used in an unauthorized trial.""
The room seemed to tilt.
"My wife was part of a drug trial?""
"She didn't know.""
Morgan's face hardened.
"If this is true, we need to get a warrant and secure the entire facility.""
"We don't have time for a warrant," I said.
"We have a team on the way.""
"And how long until they arrive?""
"Eight minutes.""
Eight minutes.
I thought of Ava sitting in that chair, watching the clock, wondering whether her father would come for her.
I thought of Rachel, alone in a hospital room, trying to warn us both.
"I'll go through the back entrance," I said.
Morgan blocked the doorway.
"Absolutely not.""
"Then come with me.""
She hesitated.
Mark reached into his pocket and produced a small brass key.
"This opens the service entrance. There's a maintenance tunnel beneath the east wing.""
Morgan took the key.
"You're coming with us.""
Mark shook his head.
"I can't.""
She stepped toward him.
"You're either a witness or an accomplice, Mr. Ellison. You don't get to choose which whenever it suits you.""
Mark looked at me.
For the first time, I saw something resembling shame in his eyes.
"Daniel, there's one more thing.""
I waited.
"The man who took Ava isn't working for Thomas Reed.""
"Then who is he working for?""
Mark's lips trembled.
"Dr. Whitmore.""
I felt my stomach drop.
"Why would a doctor kidnap my daughter?""
"Because Rachel left something behind that could destroy him.""
"What?""
Mark looked toward the photograph on the table.
"The truth about what happened in that hospital room.""
My phone buzzed.
A live video call appeared on the screen.
Ava.
I answered.
She was sitting on the same metal chair, but the room behind her was brighter now. A clock hung on the wall.
11:42 p.m.
Seventeen minutes until midnight.
"Sweetheart," I said, fighting to keep my voice steady.
"I'm coming for you.""
Ava shook her head frantically.
"Don't come here, Dad.""
"Listen to me. I'm going to get you out.""
"No. You don't understand. He showed me the hospital video.""
My blood turned cold.
"What video?""
"The one from Mom's room.""
She began crying.
"He said you were the last person to touch her before she died.""
I swallowed hard.
"Ava, I don't remember what happened that night.""
"I know.""
Her answer stopped me.
"You know?""
She nodded.
"Mom told me you weren't yourself that night. She said someone had given you something, and you couldn't remember what you'd done.""
Morgan moved closer to the phone.
"Ava, did you see who gave your father the medication?""
Ava looked toward the door.
Then she whispered, "It was Uncle Mark.""
Mark staggered backward as though she'd struck him.
I turned toward him.
He looked horrified.
But Ava wasn't finished.
"He told me he was sorry. He said he didn't know what was in the bottle.""
The video shook as someone grabbed the phone.
A man's face appeared on the screen.
Dr. Whitmore.
He smiled at me.
"Daniel Dawson. It's time we finished what your wife started.""
He held up the silver bracelet.
Then he pressed a small button on the side.
A tiny compartment opened.
Inside was a folded strip of paper.
"The original authorization," he said.
"The document that proves you ordered your wife's final injection.""
I stepped closer to the screen.
"Let my daughter go.""
"Bring me the original file from the piano, and I'll consider it.""
"We already found it.""
His smile widened.
"Then you have exactly what I need.""
He leaned toward the camera.
"But before you arrive, there's something you should know.""
He paused, enjoying the silence.
"Your wife didn't die immediately after you injected her. She survived for another eleven minutes.""
My legs nearly gave way.
Whitmore's expression turned cold.
"And during those eleven minutes, she told us exactly where she had hidden the evidence.""
The screen went black.
Morgan immediately grabbed her radio.
"All units, move now. Suspect confirmed at the Whitmore Research Center. Possible hostage, armed personnel, and evidence of a homicide.""
I stood motionless, hearing only one sentence echoing in my head.
Rachel had survived for eleven minutes.
Eleven minutes in which she had been conscious, afraid, and trying to save us.
I looked at Mark.
"Did you know?""
He couldn't meet my eyes.
"Yes.""
The answer came so quietly I almost didn't hear it.
I walked toward him.
"How long have you known?""
He began to cry.
"Three years.""
I struck him once, hard enough to send him against the wall.
Morgan grabbed my arm before I could hit him again.
"Daniel! We need to move!""
I stared at the man who had been my friend, my partner, and my wife's trusted confidant.
Then I picked up the brass key.
At 11:44 p.m., we left for the research center.
May you like
And for the first time in three years, I wasn't afraid of discovering what had happened to Rachel.
I was afraid of discovering what I might have done while someone else controlled my mind.
