Chapter 13 - SUBJECT B
Christopher returned to Pierce Manor with federal agents.
The mansion had been sealed since Estelle’s arrest.
Every employee had been interviewed.
Every room had been searched.
Yet Vane insisted Subject B remained inside.
Christopher walked through the entrance hall.
The house felt different.
Not home.
Evidence.
Yvette joined him.
She knew every hidden stair.
Every service corridor.
Every sealed storage room.
“Who could live here without us knowing?”
Christopher asked.
Yvette looked unsettled.
“Someone everyone sees.”
That answer disturbed him.
They reviewed employee records.
Forty-seven permanent staff.
Gardeners.
Drivers.
Kitchen workers.
Security.
Housekeepers.
Some had worked there decades.
Vane arrived under federal protection.
Christopher hated him immediately.
Marcus Vane was sixty-seven.
Thin.
Careful.
His eyes never stopped observing.
Christopher walked toward him.
“You touched my daughter.”
Vane looked at him.
“I treated an infant.”
“You drugged her.”
“No.”
“You experimented on her.”
“Yes.”
Christopher nearly struck him.
Torres intervened.
“Sit.”
Vane sat.
Christopher remained standing.
“Tell me about Subject B.”
Vane folded his hands.
“First understand the program.”
“No.”
“Tell me who B is.”
“You won’t understand why the answer matters.”
Christopher leaned forward.
“You have thirty seconds before I stop caring what prosecutors promised you.”
Vane smiled faintly.
“You are your mother’s son.”
Christopher grabbed his collar.
“Never say that again.”
Torres pulled him away.
Vane adjusted his shirt.
“Subject B was another infant.”
“We know.”
“Born eleven days before Emma.”
“Who?”
Vane looked toward Yvette.
She stared back.
“Her grandson.”
Yvette’s face emptied.
“I don’t have a grandson.”
Vane continued.
“You did.”
Yvette stepped forward.
“My husband had one daughter.”
“Rachel.”
“No.”
Vane shook his head.
“Samuel had another child.”
Rachel’s biological half-sibling.
Christopher frowned.
“Who?”
Vane replied.
“A son.”
“Name?”
“Daniel.”
Yvette began shaking.
“Samuel never told me.”
“Samuel didn’t know.”
Vane explained.
“Before marrying you, Samuel had a relationship.”
“The woman later gave birth.”
“She hid the boy.”
“Why?”
“Estelle paid her.”
Christopher looked toward Yvette.
Another stolen family branch.
Another secret.
“What happened to Daniel?”
“He grew up.”
“Had a son.”
“That baby became Subject B.”
Christopher stared.
“And he lives here?”
“Yes.”
“How old is he?”
“Seven.”
Yvette gasped.
Christopher frowned.
“There are no seven-year-old boys living in this mansion.”
Vane looked at him.
“Not anymore.”
Christopher stared.
“You said he was still inside.”
“I said Subject B was inside.”
“Was?”
Vane smiled.
“Words matter.”
Christopher’s patience vanished.
“Who?”
Vane finally answered.
“Thomas Bell.”
Yvette covered her mouth.
Christopher knew the name.
Tommy Bell.
The groundskeeper’s grandson.
He lived with his grandfather in the estate cottage until last year.
A quiet boy.
Emma’s occasional playmate.
Christopher remembered them building forts together.
Then Tommy supposedly moved away after his grandfather retired.
“Where is he now?”
Vane’s expression changed.
“I don’t know.”
Christopher turned toward his security chief.
“Find the Bells.”
The chief searched.
Thomas Bell’s grandfather, Henry Bell, had officially retired to Florida.
But no travel records existed.
No new address.
No pension withdrawals.
They had vanished.
Christopher looked at Vane.
“What did Estelle want with two children?”
Vane answered.
“Redundancy.”
“For the archive?”
“Yes.”
“If Emma failed to retain the sequence, Tommy would.”
Christopher felt disgust.
“What did you do to them?”
“Audio exposure.”
“Pattern recognition.”
“Sleep conditioning.”
“They were infants.”
“Infants have remarkable neural plasticity.”
Christopher stood.
“Do not sound proud.”
Vane lowered his eyes.
“For what it’s worth, I regret it.”
Christopher laughed.
“It isn’t worth anything.”
Yvette asked quietly.
“Was Samuel’s grandson harmed?”
Vane looked at her.
“Not physically.”
Christopher snapped.
“You trained babies to memorize blackmail codes.”
“Do not tell us they weren’t harmed.”
Vane accepted the rebuke.
Christopher asked.
“Why was Tommy hidden at the estate?”
“Estelle wanted him close.”
“Did she know Samuel was his grandfather?”
“Yes.”
“Did Samuel?”
“No.”
Yvette’s eyes filled.
Vane continued.
“After Samuel died, Estelle planned to remove the boy.”
“What stopped her?”
“Malcolm.”
Christopher frowned.
“Dad knew?”
“Eventually.”
Of course.
Malcolm knew everything too late and hid everything afterward.
Christopher was beginning to see his father’s pattern.
He protected people by erasing their lives.
Rachel.
Annalise.
Himself.
Tommy.
“Where did Malcolm send him?”
“I don’t know.”
Christopher called Malcolm.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
He checked with federal agents.
Malcolm had disappeared from protective custody twenty minutes earlier.
Christopher stared at Torres.
“You lost him?”
“He walked out through a service exit using credentials that shouldn’t exist.”
Christopher laughed bitterly.
“He built half the systems we use.”
Yvette looked toward Vane.
“Where would he take Tommy?”
Vane hesitated.
“There is one place.”
Christopher leaned forward.
“Where?”
“Samuel’s house.”
Yvette stared.
“What house?”
Vane looked at her.
“Your husband maintained a property under another name.”
Christopher turned.
“Where?”
“Hudson Valley.”
They drove north.
The house sat beside an abandoned orchard.
Yvette stopped at the gate.
Tears filled her eyes.
“I know this place.”
Christopher looked at her.
“How?”
“Samuel brought me here once.”
“When?”
“Before we married.”
“He said it belonged to a friend.”
The door was unlocked.
Inside, dust covered most rooms.
But the kitchen was clean.
Recent food.
Recent footprints.
Someone had been staying there.
Christopher moved upstairs.
A bedroom contained children’s books.
Seven-year-old clothes.
A photograph of Tommy Bell.
Yvette sat on the bed.
“My husband’s grandson.”
Christopher looked around.
On the desk sat drawings.
Most showed trees.
Boats.
A little girl with brown hair.
Emma.
One drawing showed Emma beside Tommy.
Above them, a black-haired woman stood beside a large house.
Christopher recognized Estelle.
Tommy had drawn red lines around her.
On another page, he wrote:
GRANDMA E SAYS SONG OPENS DOOR.
Christopher’s blood went cold.
Tommy called Estelle Grandma.
Vane had said Samuel’s grandson.
But perhaps Tommy’s mother connected somewhere else too.
Christopher kept searching.
Inside the desk, he found a letter.
Malcolm’s handwriting.
Tommy,
If you ever read this without me, remember that nobody is entitled to use what you remember.
Your mind belongs to you.
The song belongs to nobody.
If Estelle finds you, do not sing.
M.
Christopher heard a floorboard creak downstairs.
He drew back.
Torres raised her weapon.
“Federal agents.”
No answer.
Another sound.
Christopher moved toward the hallway.
A child stood at the bottom of the stairs.
Tommy.
Seven years old.
Thin.
Frightened.
Yvette gasped.
Tommy looked at her.
“Who are you?”
Yvette began crying.
Christopher knelt.
“I’m Emma’s dad.”
Tommy’s face changed.
“Is she okay?”
“Yes.”
“Grandma E said she drowned.”
Christopher’s stomach twisted.
“She lied.”
Tommy’s face hardened in a way no child’s face should.
“She always lies.”
Yvette slowly approached.
“My name is Yvette.”
Tommy stared at her.
“My grandpa Samuel’s wife?”
Yvette nearly collapsed.
“Yes.”
Tommy looked at her.
“Grandpa Malcolm said you’d be nice.”
Christopher frowned.
“Where is Malcolm?”
Tommy pointed toward the cellar.
Everyone moved.
The cellar door stood open.
Malcolm sat against the wall.
Blood covered his shirt.
Christopher ran.
“Dad.”
Malcolm opened his eyes.
“She found us.”
Christopher looked around.
“Who?”
“Annalise.”
Christopher froze.
“What?”
Malcolm struggled to breathe.
“She took the second key.”
Christopher stared.
“What second key?”
Malcolm grabbed his sleeve.
“Emma has the lock sequence.”
“Tommy has the release.”
Christopher turned toward the boy.
Malcolm continued.
“Together they can control the archive.”
Christopher felt dread.
“Where did Annalise go?”
Malcolm whispered.
“Pierce Tower.”
Christopher frowned.
The company’s headquarters in Manhattan.
“Why?”
“Estelle’s archive has another node.”
“Where?”
Malcolm’s eyes closed.
“Under the boardroom.”
Christopher stared.
The Pierce board was holding an emergency session that afternoon.
Estelle had been removed as chair.
Christopher was expected to assume temporary control.
Annalise knew.
And she had Tommy’s release key.
Christopher looked toward the boy.
Tommy was still there.
He frowned.
“You said she took the key.”
Malcolm opened his eyes.
“Not Tommy.”
He reached into his shirt.
A blood-stained metal pendant was missing.
Christopher understood.
A physical encryption key.
Annalise had stolen it.
Then Tommy whispered.
“She doesn’t need it.”
Christopher turned.
“What?”
Tommy looked frightened.
“I heard her on the phone.”
“With who?”
Tommy answered.
“Grandma E.”
Christopher stared.
“Annalise is working with Estelle?”
Tommy shook his head.
“No.”
“Grandma E told her something.”
“What?”
Tommy swallowed.
“She told Annalise who killed her mother.”
Yvette stepped closer.
“Who?”
Tommy looked at Malcolm.
Then at Christopher.
“Grandpa Malcolm.”
The room went silent.
Malcolm closed his eyes.
Christopher stared at his father.
“Is that true?”
Malcolm didn’t answer.
Christopher’s voice broke.
“Did you kill Annalise’s mother?”
Malcolm finally whispered.
“Yes.”
And upstairs, Christopher’s phone began ringing.
May you like
Annalise.
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