Chapter 4 - The Child in Room 317

YOUR SISTER.

The two words remained on the fogged hospital glass even after Evelyn Shaw's trembling finger fell away.

Noah stared at them.

For a few seconds, he forgot about Daniel.

He forgot about the coffin, the kidnapping, the mysterious messages, even the impossible security footage showing a dead man walking into the funeral home.

There was only one thought in his head.

"My sister?"

Victoria reached for him.

"Noah—"

He pulled away.

"Don't."

"Noah, listen to me."

"Did you know?"

Victoria didn't answer quickly enough.

His face changed.

"You knew."

"I knew there was a baby."

"A baby?"

"I didn't know what happened to her."

"Her?"

Victoria closed her eyes.

Another answer given accidentally.

Noah stepped backward.

"So you knew it was a girl."

"Noah—"

"How long?"

Detective Ortiz moved between them.

"This conversation can wait."

"No, it can't!"

Several people in the corridor turned.

Noah pointed toward Evelyn's room.

"My mom is missing. That woman was inside my mom's coffin. Daniel ran away. Your dead father is apparently walking around, and now I'm being told I have a sister nobody ever mentioned!"

His voice cracked on the last word.

Ortiz softened slightly.

"I understand."

"No, you don't."

"Noah."

The voice came from inside the room.

Weak.

Barely audible.

Evelyn.

A nurse immediately moved to her bedside.

"You shouldn't speak yet."

Evelyn ignored her.

"Noah..."

He approached the glass.

Her eyes remained fixed on him.

"Can I go in?"

The nurse looked toward Ortiz.

Ortiz hesitated.

Then nodded.

"Five minutes."

Noah entered.

Victoria tried to follow.

Evelyn's expression changed instantly.

"No."

Victoria stopped.

"No Victoria."

The same instruction as the anonymous message.

Noah noticed.

So did Ortiz.

Victoria's face hardened, but she remained outside.

Noah walked to the bed.

Evelyn looked fragile beneath the hospital lights.

"How do you know me?"

She swallowed painfully.

"Claire showed me pictures."

"Where is she?"

"I don't know now."

"But you said Daniel knows."

"He did."

"What does that mean?"

Evelyn's eyes moved toward the door.

Fear.

"Daniel wasn't supposed to know."

"Know what?"

"That Claire found her."

Noah's heart began beating faster.

"My sister?"

Evelyn nodded.

"Who is she?"

A tear moved down Evelyn's cheek.

"I can't tell you."

"Why?"

"Because that's what started this."

Noah stared at her.

"People are trying to kill my mom because she found my sister?"

Evelyn closed her eyes.

"No."

"What, then?"

"They're trying to stop Claire because she discovered why her daughter disappeared."

Noah felt cold.

"Disappeared?"

Evelyn opened her eyes again.

"Your sister wasn't lost, Noah."

She struggled for breath.

"She was taken."

Outside the room, Victoria went completely still.

Noah moved closer.

"Who took her?"

Evelyn's lips trembled.

"The Whitmores."

Noah looked through the glass at Victoria.

She shook her head.

Evelyn continued.

"Twenty years ago, St. Catherine's wasn't just a hospital."

"What was it?"

"A place wealthy families used when they had problems they couldn't allow the public to see."

Noah didn't understand.

"What kind of problems?"

"Pregnancies. Addictions. Mental breakdowns. Children born outside marriages. Things that could damage reputations."

Her voice became bitter.

"They called it privacy."

Noah thought about the funeral.

In wealthy rooms, humiliation was rarely called cruelty.

It was called protocol.

Maybe cruelty had other expensive names too.

"Why was my mom there?"

Evelyn hesitated.

"Ask Victoria."

Noah looked toward the glass again.

Victoria had turned away.

"She won't tell me."

"Then ask her who brought Claire to St. Catherine's."

"Who?"

Evelyn whispered one name.

"Thomas."

Noah's stomach tightened.

Thomas Whitmore.

The dead patriarch.

"Was he really alive?"

Evelyn's expression changed.

"What?"

"We have video of him."

"No."

"At the funeral home."

"Noah, listen to me."

For the first time, genuine panic entered her voice.

"Thomas Whitmore is dead."

"But—"

"I saw his body."

Noah froze.

"You saw him die?"

"I administered the medication."

The words hung between them.

"What medication?"

Evelyn realized she had said too much.

She turned her face away.

Noah leaned closer.

"What medication?"

Her heart monitor accelerated.

The nurse entered.

"That's enough."

"No!"

"Noah," Ortiz called.

"Evelyn, please. Where is my mom?"

Evelyn looked at him.

Then at his red hoodie.

Something in her expression softened.

"Claire said you never stopped asking questions."

Noah swallowed.

"She said that?"

"She was proud of it."

The nurse began adjusting Evelyn's IV.

Evelyn suddenly grabbed Noah's hand.

"Find the photograph."

"What photograph?"

"The three girls."

Noah's heart stopped.

He had it.

At home.

The photograph Claire had given him three weeks earlier.

Claire.

Victoria.

And the unknown girl between them.

Evelyn saw recognition in his face.

"You have it."

Noah said nothing.

"Don't tell anyone."

His eyes moved toward Victoria.

"Not even her?"

Evelyn tightened her grip.

"Especially not her."

The heart monitor began alarming.

The nurse pushed Noah away.

"You need to leave."

"Evelyn!"

"Find the girl in the picture."

"What does she have to do with my sister?"

Evelyn's eyes filled with terror.

"Everything."

The door closed between them.

Noah stood in the corridor.

Victoria immediately approached.

"What did she tell you?"

He remembered his promise to Ortiz.

He remembered Evelyn's warning.

And he remembered the anonymous messages.

For the first time, Noah wasn't sure which adult was safest to trust.

"Nothing."

Victoria studied his face.

"You were in there five minutes."

"She was confused."

Another lie.

Victoria knew.

But she didn't challenge him.

That frightened Noah more.

Detective Ortiz's phone rang.

She stepped away.

Noah watched Victoria.

"Tell me about St. Catherine's."

Her expression tightened.

"I already told you—"

"No. Tell me why Mom was there."

Victoria remained silent.

"Evelyn said Thomas brought her."

Victoria's eyes flashed.

"Evelyn shouldn't have told you that."

"So it's true."

"Noah, there are things about your mother's life that aren't mine to tell."

"She's been kidnapped!"

His voice rose again.

"I don't care whose secrets they are anymore."

Victoria looked exhausted.

Finally she sat.

"Claire was seventeen."

Noah slowly sat opposite her.

"My father knew her family."

"How?"

"Claire's mother worked for him."

Noah had barely known his maternal grandmother. She had died before he was old enough to remember her.

"Your mother became pregnant."

"With my sister."

"Yes."

"Who was the father?"

Victoria looked down.

"I don't know."

"You're lying."

"I genuinely don't."

Noah watched her.

This time he believed her.

"What happened?"

"My father brought Claire to St. Catherine's."

"Why?"

"He said he was helping her."

"And you believed him?"

"I was nineteen."

Victoria's voice became defensive.

"I believed many things about my father then."

"What happened to the baby?"

"I was told she died."

Noah felt sick.

"Did Mom believe that?"

"For years."

"And then?"

Victoria looked toward Evelyn's room.

"Six months ago, Claire came to me."

"What did she say?"

"She asked whether I remembered Room 317."

"And?"

"I told her to leave the past alone."

"Why?"

Victoria looked directly at him.

"Because every person who started asking questions about St. Catherine's eventually disappeared."

Noah's phone vibrated.

Both of them looked at it.

Unknown number.

Noah opened the message.

MIDNIGHT.

ST. CATHERINE'S.

COME ALONE.

Then:

BRING THE PHOTOGRAPH.

Noah's breath stopped.

Not the key.

The photograph.

The sender knew what Evelyn had just told him.

He looked toward her hospital room.

Someone had been listening.

Detective Ortiz returned before Noah could hide the screen.

"We have a problem."

Victoria stood.

"What now?"

Ortiz held up her phone.

"The security footage from the funeral home was manipulated."

Noah frowned.

"What does that mean?"

"The footage showing Thomas Whitmore was inserted into the system."

"So he wasn't there?"

"We don't know."

"Who inserted it?"

Ortiz's expression became grim.

"Someone accessed the system remotely using Daniel Whitmore's credentials."

Victoria stared at her.

"Daniel framed our father?"

"Possibly."

"But why?"

"That's what I'd like to ask him."

Ortiz looked at Noah.

"We found Daniel."

Noah stood.

"Where?"

"His family owns a property twelve miles outside the city."

"Is he there?"

"His vehicle isn't."

"You said his car was at the funeral."

"A different vehicle."

Ortiz hesitated.

"A van registered to a Whitmore Foundation subsidiary was captured by a traffic camera near the property."

Noah's pulse quickened.

"When?"

"Forty minutes ago."

"My mom could be there."

"Maybe."

"I'm coming."

"No."

"Detective—"

"Absolutely not."

Ortiz turned toward Victoria.

"I need you to remain here."

"Why?"

"Because until we know who's involved, everyone connected to the Whitmore family is potentially a witness or suspect."

Victoria stared at her.

"Including me?"

Ortiz didn't answer.

That was answer enough.

Noah's phone vibrated again.

He secretly looked down.

One new message.

DON'T LET THEM FIND DANIEL FIRST.

Then a photograph loaded.

Daniel sat tied to a chair.

Blood covered one side of his face.

Behind him was a wall Noah recognized immediately.

White tiles.

Faded green paint.

And beside Daniel's head, mounted crookedly on the wall, was a metal plaque.

317.

Noah looked toward Victoria.

Then toward Ortiz.

They were still talking.

Neither had seen the message.

The phone vibrated once more.

A video began playing automatically.

Daniel lifted his head.

His face was swollen.

He looked directly into the camera.

"Noah..."

Someone behind the camera ordered him to continue.

Daniel swallowed.

"Your mother is alive."

Noah's hands shook.

Daniel began crying.

"But Claire isn't the person they're really trying to find."

The camera moved closer.

"Tell him," the unseen voice demanded.

Daniel looked terrified.

"Noah, your sister didn't disappear twenty years ago."

He took a ragged breath.

"She disappeared three days ago."

The video ended.

A final message appeared.

COME TO ROOM 317 IF YOU WANT TO MEET HER.