Chapter 9 - Saint Augustine’s
Saint Augustine’s Sanitarium stood near the Vermont border.
It had once been a private monastery.
Stone walls surrounded the property.
Security cameras covered every entrance.
Daniel contacted federal agents he trusted.
He shared the recording, the photographs, and the attempted murder evidence.
The agents agreed to investigate.
But Ethan refused to wait.
“My father has been held for ten years.”
“Every hour we delay gives them time to move him.”
Claire agreed.
Daniel did not.
“This is not a rescue mission.”
“This is a fortified private facility.”
“Then we enter legally,” Claire said.
She found an archived state record showing Saint Augustine’s received funding through a Whitmore Foundation medical grant.
As a foundation trustee, Ethan had the right to inspect the property.
He arrived with Claire, Daniel, two attorneys, and a medical compliance officer.
Dr. Helen Voss met them in the lobby.
She was in her late fifties.
Her silver hair had been pulled into a severe knot.
“I was not informed of an inspection,” she said.
“You are being informed now,” Ethan replied.
Helen looked at Claire.
Recognition flashed across her face.
“You look like your mother.”
“Tell me what happened to her.”
Helen’s expression tightened.
“This is not the place.”
“Then take us to Samuel Ward.”
Helen turned pale.
“No patient by that name resides here.”
Ethan placed the photograph on the desk.
“My father is sitting in your garden.”
Helen stared at it.
A security alarm began ringing.
Staff members moved rapidly through the halls.
Daniel reached beneath his coat.
“What is happening?”
Helen looked toward the stairwell.
“They know you’re here.”
“Who?”
“Eleanor.”
Helen grabbed a ring of keys.
“Come with me.”
She led them through the kitchen and into an underground passage.
The tunnel connected the main building to an older medical wing hidden behind the monastery.
Locked rooms lined the corridor.
Some were empty.
Others contained elderly patients whose identities did not appear in official records.
Helen stopped outside Room 12.
Her hand shook as she opened the door.
A man sat beside the window.
He was thin.
His shoulders curved beneath a gray sweater.
Burn scars covered the left side of his neck.
Ethan could not move.
The man turned slowly.
His eyes found Ethan’s face.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Thomas Whitmore whispered the name he had not said in a decade.
“Son.”
Ethan crossed the room.
He dropped to his knees beside the wheelchair.
Thomas raised a trembling hand and touched his face.
“I knew you would come.”
Ethan’s voice broke.
“I thought you were dead.”
Thomas looked toward Claire.
“You kept the key.”
Claire nodded through tears.
“I’m sorry it took so long.”
A heavy lock slammed somewhere in the corridor.
Helen ran to the door.
Red emergency lights began flashing.
May you like
“They’ve sealed the wing.”
Smoke poured through the ventilation grate.
