Chapter 4 - THE MOTHER WHO WASN'T DEAD
Rachel Parker had not been admitted to any hospital in the state.
At least not under her name.
That became the next emergency.
Emma's mother was thirty-two.
A former research coordinator.
Widowed three years earlier.
Robert Parker's younger sister.
Her pregnancy with Noah and Grace had been classified as high-risk.
Robert told police Rachel voluntarily moved into his foundation's residential program for specialized prenatal care.
Emma said otherwise.
Maya secured permission for a forensic interview.
No uniforms.
No Robert.
No repeated questions.
Emma sat with crayons and drew while a specialist spoke gently.
“What did your mom say before the babies came?”
Emma colored a house black.
“She said we might go away.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere Uncle Robert couldn't find.”
“Why?”
Emma stopped coloring.
“Because she found my number.”
Maya's pen stopped.
“What number?”
Emma touched her own chest.
“Seventeen.”
The photograph from the compound suddenly mattered even more.
“What did your mom say about seventeen?”
Emma's eyes filled.
“She cried.”
That was all they got.
Enough.
Investigators searched Rachel's bank records.
Two weeks before the twins were born, she withdrew nearly all her savings.
She purchased three bus tickets under different names.
A woman preparing to disappear.
Then every account stopped moving.
Her phone went dark.
Robert claimed pregnancy complications changed her plans.
Maya called that convenient.
The twins' bloodwork gave Dr. Miller another clue.
They had received medication shortly after birth.
Not dangerous in itself.
But unusual outside a neonatal unit.
“Someone medically trained cared for them,” he said.
“Then stopped.”
Sarah frowned.
“Why?”
“Maybe they left in a hurry.”
Or were forced to.
The search of Robert's compound expanded.
Cadaver dogs found nothing.
That eased one fear.
Then investigators found a second hidden building beyond the tree line.
Smaller.
No windows.
Three beds.
IV equipment.
A locked medication cabinet.
One mattress had fresh blood consistent with childbirth.
Rachel's DNA later matched it.
She had given birth there.
But Rachel herself was gone.
Robert was detained for questioning.
He demanded his attorney.
He denied harming anyone.
“Rachel chose to participate.”
“In what?” Hayes asked.
Robert smiled.
“You don't understand the research.”
“Explain it.”
“Not without counsel.”
Hayes placed Emma's Candidate Seventeen photograph on the table.
Robert's smile vanished.
That was the first genuine reaction.
“What was she a candidate for?”
Robert said nothing.
“Why photograph a five-year-old with a number?”
Silence.
“Why did your sister try to run?”
Robert leaned back.
“You think Rachel is a victim because she made herself look like one.”
“What does that mean?”
“My sister stole proprietary research.”
Hayes stared.
“What research?”
“Millions of dollars' worth.”
“So this is about money?”
“It is about work she didn't understand.”
Hayes leaned closer.
“A seven-year-old pushed two newborns to an ER because she was terrified of you.”
Robert's expression hardened.
“Emma has always been difficult.”
Hayes stood.
“That's what men like you say when children stop obeying.”
Robert finally lost control.
“You have no idea what that child is!”
Hayes stopped.
Not who.
What.
Robert seemed to realize his mistake.
Too late.
“What is Emma?” Hayes asked.
Robert said nothing else.
That night Sarah was helping Emma wash the dirt from her hair when the girl asked:
“Can dead people call?”
Sarah frowned.
“Sometimes phones can have recordings.”
“No.”
Emma looked frightened.
“My mommy called me.”
“When?”
“Just now.”
Sarah's stomach dropped.
Emma pointed toward Sarah's phone on the counter.
The screen showed one missed call.
Unknown number.
Then voicemail appeared.
Sarah played it.
Static.
Breathing.
And a woman's whisper:
“Sarah Collins?”
Sarah froze.
May you like
The voice continued:
“If Emma is with you, don't tell Robert I'm alive.”
