Chapter 6 - The Wife Who Was Never Buried

# Chapter 6 - The Wife Who Was Never Buried

The dead woman on the telephone had just warned me not to let anyone test my son's blood.

Then the line went silent.

For several seconds, I stood in Dr. Ellis's office with the phone pressed against my ear, unable to move.

Emily.

I had heard Emily's voice.

Not on an old recording. Not in a dream. Not in one of the videos I watched when missing her became unbearable.

She had spoken to me.

She had said my name.

And she had warned me about Ethan.

"Mr. Mercer?"

Detective Laura Bennett stood beside me.

"Who was that?"

I lowered the phone.

"My wife."

She frowned.

"Your wife?"

"Emily."

The detective glanced toward Dr. Ellis.

"I thought your wife died four years ago."

"So did I."

The words sounded absurd even as I said them.

Detective Bennett studied my expression.

"Are you certain it was her?"

I wanted to say yes.

I wanted to tell her that a husband could never mistake his wife's voice.

But four years of grief had taught me how desperately the mind could cling to familiar sounds.

"I recognized her voice," I answered. "That's all I know."

Victor Hale stood near the window, unusually quiet.

I turned toward him.

"You knew."

He didn't answer.

"You knew Emily might still be alive."

Victor slowly removed his glasses.

"Daniel, there are circumstances surrounding your wife's disappearance that you don't understand."

"Disappearance?"

My voice rose.

"You called it a murder twenty minutes ago!"

"I told you Richard arranged the collision."

"And you let me believe she died!"

Victor's expression tightened.

"Because that's what the official records say."

I took a step toward him.

"Did you ever see her body?"

He hesitated.

That hesitation was enough.

"Answer me."

"No."

My stomach twisted.

"Then who identified her?"

Dr. Ellis looked down.

Victor said nothing.

I turned toward the doctor.

"Margaret?"

She folded her trembling hands.

"The body was identified through medical documentation and personal effects."

"By whom?"

She swallowed.

"Richard Cole."

I felt the room tilt.

Richard had arranged the funeral.

Richard had handled the insurance paperwork.

Richard had insisted I shouldn't see Emily after the accident because her injuries were too severe.

And I had trusted him.

I remembered standing outside the funeral home, begging to see her one last time.

Richard had put his hands on my shoulders.

Daniel, remember her the way she was.

I had believed he was protecting me.

Now I understood that he might have been protecting himself.

Detective Bennett stepped between Victor and me.

"Mr. Mercer, I need you to focus. Your son is still missing."

The words brought me back.

Ethan.

Whatever had happened to Emily, my son was alive and in immediate danger.

I showed Bennett the messages Claire had sent.

The hospital document.

The claim that Emily had been transferred.

The warning about Ethan's blood.

The detective read everything carefully.

Then she made another call.

"Move the entry team into position," she instructed. "We have reason to believe multiple people are being held inside the facility."

She listened.

"No, do not wait for the suspect's deadline. We need eyes on the east wing and the basement."

I watched her face.

Something in the response troubled her.

"What happened?" I asked.

She ended the call.

"The officers approaching Briarwood found a vehicle leaving the property."

"Richard?"

"We don't know yet."

"Was Ethan inside?"

"They couldn't confirm."

I grabbed my jacket.

"I'm going there."

"Mr. Mercer—"

"You can arrest me if you want, Detective, but I'm not sitting here while my son disappears."

She held my gaze.

Then she nodded once.

"You can come with me. But you will remain outside the operational perimeter."

I agreed.

I had no intention of doing anything that might put Ethan at greater risk.

But I needed to be close enough to see him when they brought him out.

Before we left, Victor spoke.

"Daniel."

I turned.

He looked older than he had an hour earlier.

"If Emily is alive, Richard has been hiding something from all of us."

I stared at him.

"You're telling me you didn't know?"

"I knew there was a possibility."

"That's not an answer."

Victor glanced toward Dr. Ellis.

"Richard told me Emily died after being transferred to another facility. I never saw the final medical report."

"Then why did you say you ordered her death?"

"I didn't. Margaret accused me of giving the order. I told you Richard arranged the collision."

He paused.

"Those are different things."

I hated that he was right about the distinction.

It didn't make him innocent.

It only meant the conspiracy was more complicated than I'd imagined.

Dr. Ellis suddenly spoke.

"Victor, tell him about the woman in the photograph."

Victor's face hardened.

"Not now."

"She's the reason Emily was taken."

I stopped.

"What woman?"

Dr. Ellis pointed toward the photograph Emily had left in the envelope.

The blond woman standing beside Richard.

The woman who looked remarkably like Dr. Ellis.

"That wasn't me," she said.

I stared at her.

"You admitted you were Margaret Vale."

"I admitted that I used that name."

"What's the difference?"

Her eyes filled with tears.

"Margaret Vale was my sister."

Silence.

I looked at the photograph again.

The resemblance was undeniable.

"Your sister?"

"Identical twin."

I felt anger rise.

"You let me believe you were the woman Emily feared."

"Because I was afraid to tell you what happened to her."

"What happened?"

Dr. Ellis looked toward Victor.

He remained silent.

"My sister disappeared six years ago," she whispered. "Her legal death was declared after investigators found evidence of a boating accident. But someone continued using her identity."

I stared at her.

"Who?"

"I don't know."

She pointed at the photograph.

"That woman may have been my sister. Or someone made to look like her."

I looked at the image again.

For the first time, I noticed the date.

Three days before Emily's accident.

A supposedly dead woman photographed beside Richard.

A doctor using the same name.

And now my wife, also supposedly dead, speaking from a hidden ward.

I suddenly understood that the false identities Emily had discovered might be far more than financial fraud.

They might be the foundation of the entire operation.

The drive to Briarwood took thirty minutes.

I sat in the passenger seat of Detective Bennett's unmarked SUV, staring at the dark road ahead.

She had contacted another officer to escort Victor and Dr. Ellis to the station for questioning.

Neither had been allowed to leave freely.

Outside, rain began falling.

The windshield wipers moved steadily across the glass.

The sound brought back memories I had spent years trying to forget.

Rain.

Headlights.

A telephone call after midnight.

A stranger telling me there had been an accident.

I closed my eyes.

"Mr. Mercer?"

I looked at Bennett.

"Daniel," I said. "Please."

She nodded.

"Daniel, I need to ask you something."

"Go ahead."

"Did your wife ever mention concerns about your business partner before the accident?"

I thought about it.

Emily had occasionally complained that Richard was careless with financial records.

She disliked how he insisted on handling major transactions without involving our accountant.

Once, during dinner, she had asked why our company maintained accounts with three different banks.

I'd laughed.

Richard likes options.

Emily hadn't laughed.

At the time, I thought she was being overly cautious.

Now those conversations felt like warnings.

"She asked questions about the company's finances," I answered.

"Did you investigate?"

"No."

"Why not?"

I looked out the window.

"Because I trusted Richard."

Bennett said nothing.

After a moment, I added, "He was my best friend."

She nodded.

"Sometimes that makes people harder to investigate."

I turned toward her.

"Do you think Emily is alive?"

The detective kept her eyes on the road.

"I think someone wants you to believe she is."

That answer hurt.

But it was reasonable.

"And the voice?"

"Could be her. Could be someone imitating her. Could be a recording played during the call."

I thought of the way the woman had cried.

The way she'd said my name.

The slight breathlessness Emily always had when she was frightened.

"She sounded real."

"I believe you."

Bennett paused.

"But we need evidence."

I nodded.

Then my phone vibrated.

A new message appeared from an unknown number.

If you want your son alive, tell the police to stay away from the basement.

I showed Bennett.

Her expression hardened.

"Don't respond."

Another message appeared.

We know you're with Detective Bennett.

I looked around.

The road behind us was empty.

At least, it appeared empty.

Then a third message arrived.

Ask her why she requested Emily Mercer's case file six months ago.

I turned slowly toward the detective.

"Bennett?"

She glanced at me.

"What?"

"Did you investigate Emily's death six months ago?"

Her hands tightened on the steering wheel.

For several seconds, she said nothing.

Then she answered.

"Yes."

My stomach dropped.

"Why?"

"Because I received an anonymous tip."

"What tip?"

She hesitated.

"That the woman buried under your wife's name wasn't Emily Mercer."

I stared at her.

"You knew?"

"I suspected the identification had been falsified."

"And you didn't tell me?"

"I had no proof. The records had inconsistencies, but the evidence wasn't enough to reopen the case formally."

"Who sent the tip?"

"I don't know."

I looked down at the messages.

Someone knew about Bennett's investigation.

Someone knew where we were.

And someone wanted me to distrust her.

"Did you tell Richard?" I asked.

"No."

"Victor?"

"No."

"Then how does someone know?"

Bennett's expression grew grim.

"That's what worries me."

We reached Briarwood at 10:58 p.m.

The abandoned rehabilitation center stood behind a rusted iron fence, surrounded by tall trees.

Its windows were dark.

The main building looked exactly as I remembered it.

Three stories.

Gray brick.

A covered entrance.

But the grounds had changed.

Fresh tire tracks cut through the muddy driveway.

Several exterior security cameras had been installed.

And a generator hummed behind the east wing.

The building wasn't abandoned.

It had been maintained.

Used.

Occupied.

Police vehicles were positioned along the access road with their lights off.

Detective Bennett parked behind a line of trees.

An officer approached.

"Ma'am, we have visual confirmation of movement in the east wing."

"Children?"

"At least one small figure near a second-floor window. We couldn't identify them."

My heart hammered.

"Ethan."

The officer looked at me.

"Sir, please stay behind the vehicles."

I nodded.

Bennett spoke into her radio.

"Any sign of Cole?"

"Negative."

"Vanessa?"

"Negative."

"Claire Mercer?"

"No confirmed sightings."

She looked toward the building.

"Basement access?"

"Two entrances. One through the main stairwell, another through the service corridor."

Bennett nodded.

"Proceed with the planned approach. Medical personnel remain on standby."

I stood beside the SUV, watching officers move through the darkness.

My phone vibrated.

A message from Ethan's number.

Dad, are you outside?

I typed immediately.

Yes. The police are here. Stay hidden.

His response came quickly.

I'm with Lily.

Relief washed over me.

Are you both okay?

Yes, but she's scared.

I swallowed.

Tell her help is coming.

A pause.

Then:

Dad, Lily says they aren't keeping her here because she's sick.

I frowned.

Why are they keeping her there?

The typing indicator appeared.

Then disappeared.

Finally:

Because of her blood.

I stared at the screen.

Emily's warning returned.

Don't let them test Ethan's blood.

I typed:

What does she mean?

Before Ethan could answer, a loud noise echoed from the building.

Glass shattered.

Someone shouted.

A burst of radio chatter followed.

"Entry team inside!"

I looked up.

Several officers had entered through the service corridor.

A light appeared in an upstairs window.

Then another.

My phone vibrated again.

Dad, someone opened the green door.

My chest tightened.

Who?

No answer.

I called.

Straight to voicemail.

I tried again.

Nothing.

Then a figure appeared at the second-floor window.

A child.

Small.

Dark hair.

For one glorious second, I thought it was Ethan.

I stepped forward.

The figure raised one hand against the glass.

Then disappeared.

A police officer grabbed my arm.

"Sir, stay back."

"That's my son!"

"We don't know that."

I struggled to breathe.

Then the radio crackled.

"Two juveniles located in east wing. Both conscious. Moving to extraction."

My knees nearly gave way.

Two children.

Ethan and Lily.

I looked at Bennett.

She nodded.

"That's good news."

But before I could respond, another transmission came through.

"Hold extraction. We've encountered a locked security partition."

A pause.

Then:

"There's someone on the other side."

Bennett raised her radio.

"Identify."

Static.

Then an officer answered.

"Adult female. Approximately forty years old. She says her name is Emily Mercer."

The world stopped.

I stared at the building.

My wife.

Alive.

Inside.

Bennett looked at me.

"Daniel, stay here."

But I barely heard her.

The radio crackled again.

"Female is requesting immediate contact with the child's father."

I took a step forward.

Bennett caught my arm.

"Daniel."

"That's Emily."

"We haven't confirmed her identity."

"She knows my name!"

"That doesn't prove anything."

I knew she was right.

But my heart refused to listen.

Then the officer spoke again.

"Ma'am, the female says there's an explosive device connected to the security partition."

Bennett went rigid.

"What?"

"She claims opening the door will trigger it."

A terrible silence followed.

Then another voice came through the radio.

A woman's voice.

Soft.

Familiar.

"Daniel?"

I felt my breath catch.

Bennett looked at the radio.

The woman continued.

"If you can hear me, please listen."

Tears filled my eyes.

"Emily," I whispered.

"I know you want to come inside."

Her voice trembled.

"But you can't."

I stepped toward the building.

"Why?"

The woman on the radio began crying.

"Because Richard didn't bring Ethan here to hurt him."

I froze.

"What?"

"He brought him here because someone else is looking for him."

I stared at the dark windows.

"Who?"

There was a pause.

Then she said something that made my blood run cold.

"The people who created Lily."

For several seconds, nobody spoke.

Detective Bennett took the radio.

"Ma'am, this is Detective Bennett. What do you mean, created Lily?"

The woman didn't answer immediately.

Then she whispered, "Lily isn't who they told her she is."

I looked toward the east wing.

"What does that mean?"

The woman continued.

"Emily Mercer discovered a network that falsified birth records, medical histories, and legal identities. Children were being moved between institutions under fabricated names."

Bennett's expression hardened.

"Are you saying Lily was abducted?"

"Yes."

"From whom?"

A long silence.

Then:

"Her family."

I felt sick.

"Who is her family?"

The woman began breathing rapidly.

"Daniel, listen carefully. The blood tests are how they identify which children belong to which families."

I remembered Ethan's messages.

Lily.

The green room.

The files with new names.

The warning not to test his blood.

"Why would they want Ethan's blood?" I asked.

The woman hesitated.

Then she said, "Because Emily discovered that one of the children in their records was connected to your family."

My heart hammered.

"Who?"

The radio crackled.

Then the woman answered.

"Lily."

I stared at the building.

"What?"

"Daniel, Lily was taken when she was very young. Her identity was changed. Emily was trying to find her real family."

I struggled to understand.

"Are you saying she's related to us?"

The woman began crying.

"I don't know what Richard told you."

"Then tell me the truth!"

A pause.

Then:

"Emily wasn't investigating the network because of your company."

I felt the ground shift beneath me.

"Why was she investigating?"

"Because she found a photograph."

"What photograph?"

"Of a little girl who looked exactly like someone she knew."

My pulse quickened.

"Who?"

The woman whispered, "Your mother."

I froze.

My mother had died when I was nineteen.

I remembered her photographs.

Her dark eyes.

Her distinctive smile.

Her long brown hair.

And suddenly, I remembered the little girl at the upstairs window.

Dark hair.

Small face.

One hand pressed against the glass.

I felt dizzy.

"Are you saying Lily is my daughter?"

The woman answered immediately.

"No."

I exhaled shakily.

"Then who is she?"

Before she could respond, an alarm sounded inside the building.

A harsh mechanical siren.

Red lights flashed behind the windows.

The radio erupted with voices.

"Security system activated!"

"All units, hold positions!"

"Possible evacuation protocol!"

Bennett raised her radio.

"What's happening?"

An officer shouted back.

"Someone has triggered a lockdown from the basement!"

I looked toward the building.

Then another transmission came through.

"Two juveniles are moving toward the west stairwell!"

My heart pounded.

"Ethan!"

Bennett spoke urgently.

"Intercept and escort them out!"

But the officer's next words froze everyone.

"Negative. The children aren't moving with our team."

"What?"

"They're following an unidentified woman."

I stared at the building.

A figure appeared behind a second-floor window.

A woman.

Long dark hair.

Pale face.

She turned toward the glass.

For a moment, the security lights illuminated her features.

My heart stopped.

Emily.

She looked older.

Thinner.

But it was her.

I knew it.

Then she raised her hand.

And pressed something against the window.

A small white card.

Even from a distance, I could see the writing.

Three words.

NOT YOUR WIFE.

I stared at the message.

The woman lowered the card.

Then she disappeared into the darkness.

Bennett's radio crackled again.

"Detective, we have a problem."

"What now?"

The officer hesitated.

"The woman claiming to be Emily Mercer is still behind the security partition."

I looked at the window.

The woman I had just seen was gone.

The radio continued.

"She's still here. She hasn't moved."

My mouth went dry.

Two women.

Both resembling Emily.

One behind a locked partition.

One leading Ethan and Lily through the building.

And somewhere inside that nightmare, my son was being taken farther away from me.

Then my phone vibrated.

A message from Ethan.

Dad, I found Mom.

I stared at the screen.

Another message appeared.

But she says the woman talking to you isn't her.

A final message followed.

Dad, there are two of them.