Chapter 3 - The Signature That Shouldn't Exist
Damian Hamilton had signed documents that transferred hundreds of millions of
dollars.
He had signed agreements that ended business partnerships, dissolved corporations, and destroyed careers.
But he had never signed a document authorizing the removal of Noah Elmore from a medical facility.
“Show me,” he said.
Vincent turned the phone toward him.
A scanned discharge authorization appeared on the screen.
At the bottom was Damian's signature.
It was almost perfect.
Almost.
Damian studied the final stroke.
“My signature ends upward.”
Vincent enlarged the image.
“This one doesn't.”
“Forgery.”
“Professional.”
Damian looked toward Caitlyn, still asleep against his shoulder.
“Wake her when we land. Not before.”
Vincent hesitated.
“We may have a kidnapping.”
“I know.”
“Then she needs to know.”
“She will.”
Damian's voice hardened.
“But she's been awake for two days. We have twenty minutes before landing. Give her those twenty minutes.”
Vincent said nothing more.
At the airport, Damian gently touched Caitlyn's hand.
“Caitlyn.”
She stirred.
Then realized where her head had been.
Her eyes flew open.
“Oh my God.”
She sat upright so quickly that her tablet slid to the floor.
“I am so sorry.”
Damian picked it up.
“Your brother is missing.”
The color disappeared from her face.
For a moment, she seemed unable to understand the sentence.
Then she whispered, “What?”
Damian explained everything.
The forged authorization.
The unanswered calls.
The missing patient.
Caitlyn shook her head repeatedly.
“No. Noah can't leave. He needs help eating. He needs medication. He—”
Her voice broke.
She pressed both hands over her mouth.
Damian reached toward her, then stopped.
He had commanded men through gunfire.
He had negotiated with people who wanted him dead.
But he didn't know how to comfort a woman whose entire world had just been taken away.
“I'll find him,” he said.
Caitlyn looked at him through tears.
“You don't know that.”
“No.”
The admission surprised her.
“But I know where to start.”
They traveled directly to Hamilton Holdings' private security office in Manhattan.
By sunrise, Vincent had assembled a team.
The rehabilitation center's cameras showed a medical transport vehicle leaving through the service entrance.
Two men wore hospital uniforms.
One pushed Noah's wheelchair.
The other carried his medical equipment.
The vehicle's license plates belonged to a stolen delivery van.
Caitlyn watched the footage without speaking.
Then she noticed something.
“Stop.”
Vincent paused the recording.
“Go back.”
He rewound.
“There.”
She pointed toward the man pushing Noah.
A silver ring flashed on his right hand.
Caitlyn leaned closer.
“I've seen that ring.”
Damian turned.
“Where?”
“In your office.”
Vincent frowned.
“Which visitor?”
“I don't remember his name. He came three weeks ago. You weren't there.”
Damian's eyes narrowed.
“Describe him.”
“Gray hair. Tall. Maybe sixty. He asked whether I enjoyed working for you.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That I did.”
“Anything else?”
Caitlyn hesitated.
“He asked about my family.”
Vincent exchanged a glance with Damian.
“What did you say?” Damian asked.
“Nothing. I told him personal questions weren't appropriate.”
Damian almost smiled.
“Good answer.”
“But he already knew about Noah.”
The room fell silent.
Caitlyn swallowed.
“He said caring for someone who couldn't speak must be exhausting.”
Damian stood.
“Vincent. Find the visitor log.”
Ten minutes later, the receptionist's records produced a name.
Arthur Mercer.
Damian's expression changed.
Vincent stared at the screen.
“That can't be right.”
Caitlyn looked between them.
“Who is he?”
Damian remained silent.
Vincent answered.
“Arthur Mercer was your boss's father's attorney.”
“Was?”
“He disappeared after Thomas Hamilton died.”
Caitlyn looked at Damian.
“Your father?”
Damian's voice was cold.
“Mercer was supposed to be dead.”
A security analyst interrupted.
“We found the medical transport.”
“Where?” Vincent asked.
“Abandoned near Newark. No patient inside.”
Damian's phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
He answered without speaking.
A man's voice emerged.
“Hello, Damian.”
Damian closed his eyes briefly.
Twenty years.
He had not heard that voice in twenty years.
“Mercer.”
The man chuckled.
“Still quick.”
“Where's Noah?”
“Safe enough.”
“If you've hurt him—”
“You always did inherit your father's temper.”
Damian glanced toward Caitlyn.
“What do you want?”
“Something your father left behind.”
“He left nothing.”
Mercer laughed softly.
“That's what your mother wanted you to believe.”
The line crackled.
Then Mercer said something that made Damian's blood run cold.
“Ask your little secretary what happened on Highway 81 three winters ago.”
Caitlyn froze.
May you like
That was the highway where her parents had died.
And where Noah had nearly lost his life.
