Chapter 15 - The Man in the Video
Andrew Mercer appeared onscreen at forty-two years old.
Emily barely remembered his face.
Her mother had shown her photographs.
Dark hair.
Kind eyes.
A crooked smile.
The man in the video had all three.
Emily touched the screen.
“Dad.”
His recorded voice filled the room.
If Emily ever sees this, then Claire decided hiding the truth became more dangerous than telling it.
Emily began crying before she could stop herself.
Andrew explained everything.
He had worked internal security for Saint Claire.
He discovered Whitmore contractors moving controlled medication and falsifying procurement records.
When he confronted Charles, threats followed.
Then someone sabotaged his car.
He survived.
Barely.
Claire and Andrew made an impossible decision.
Andrew would disappear.
Their daughter would be told he died.
“Why?”
Emily whispered.
The video answered.
Because Charles threatened Emily.
Raymond looked sick.
Andrew continued.
Claire knows where I am.
Raymond does not.
That line cut through the room.
Raymond stared.
“She kept it from me.”
Thomas nodded.
“She trusted fewer people every year.”
Andrew described a protected identity arrangement.
He was supposed to testify once investigators assembled enough independent evidence.
But the investigation collapsed.
Witnesses disappeared.
Records were altered.
Claire became ill.
Andrew remained hidden.
The video ended with one sentence.
Emily, if I failed to come home, it was because staying away was the only way I knew to keep you alive.
The screen went black.
Emily sat motionless.
Her father might still be alive.
Raymond whispered, “I swear I thought he died later.”
Emily laughed through tears.
“I don’t know what to believe anymore.”
Agent Reyes spoke carefully.
“We can search protected-identity databases.”
Thomas shook his head.
“Andrew wouldn’t use government channels after what happened.”
“Then how do we find him?”
Thomas looked at the restored files.
“Claire left coordinates.”
They found them embedded in an image.
Colorado.
A remote mountain town.
Emily wanted to leave immediately.
Dr. Pierce refused.
“You are not flying across the country at thirty-two weeks after trauma.”
Emily started arguing.
Then the baby monitor changed.
One irregular dip.
Then another.
Dr. Pierce’s face sharpened.
“Lie down.”
Emily obeyed.
The room filled with nurses.
The baby’s heart rate recovered.
But the warning was clear.
Stress was no longer abstract.
Her body was carrying the consequences.
Dr. Pierce looked directly at her.
“You need rest.”
Emily nodded reluctantly.
Agent Reyes sent a team to Colorado instead.
For the first time in two days, Emily slept.
She woke three hours later to Raymond holding her hand.
“They found the address.”
She sat up.
“And?”
“A cabin.”
Her heart raced.
“Was he there?”
Raymond hesitated.
“No.”
Emily’s hope collapsed.
“But someone had been.”
Raymond showed her a photograph.
Fresh coffee.
A warm fireplace.
Today’s newspaper.
Then another image.
A framed photograph on a shelf.
Emily at her college graduation.
Another.
Her wedding.
Another.
Her first ultrasound photograph.
Her father had been watching her life from a distance.
Then Raymond showed her what agents found on the kitchen table.
A handwritten note.
EMILY,
I AM COMING HOME.
DO NOT TRUST PRESTON.
DO NOT TRUST CHARLES.
AND WHATEVER HAPPENS, DO NOT LET THEM MOVE YOU TO SAINT CLAIRE EAST.
Emily frowned.
“Why Saint Claire East?”
Raymond’s phone rang.
Dr. Pierce’s phone rang at almost the same time.
Both looked at their screens.
Then at Emily.
May you like
Saint Claire East had just reported an emergency evacuation.
And every maternity patient was being transferred to Whitmore-Saint Claire Medical Center.
