Chapter 5 - THE MAN WHO SOLD OUR FUTURE
The next morning, I called every contact I had in Boston's medical community.
By noon, I had found Dr. Samuel Reed.
He was living in a modest house outside Portland, Maine, under a name that didn't appear in any public professional directory.
He agreed to meet me only after I told him about the photograph.
When I arrived, he opened the door with a pistol in his hand.
"You're late, Whitmore."
"I'm three years late."
He lowered the weapon.
Inside, his living room was crowded with medical journals, cardboard boxes, and unopened mail.
Dr. Reed was in his late sixties, with silver hair and the weary eyes of a man who had spent too long expecting the past to find him.
"Where is Emily?" I demanded.
"If I knew, I'd have told her to contact you."
"You treated her."
"I delivered your daughter."
"And the other baby?"
He closed his eyes.
"So Clara told you."
"She told me enough to know someone switched two newborns' identification bracelets."
"Not switched. Attempted to switch."
He poured two cups of coffee.
"Your daughter was born at 2:14 a.m. The other girl arrived eleven minutes later. The mother of the second child died shortly after delivery. Before dawn, someone entered the nursery and attempted to exchange the bracelets."
"Who?"
"I never saw his face. But I recognized the watch on his wrist. It belonged to Richard Whitmore."
My father's watch.
A gold chronograph with a cracked crystal, a family heirloom he wore every day.
"He was there?"
"He came to the hospital claiming he was checking on Emily. I thought he was being supportive until I found the altered paperwork."
I gripped the edge of the table.
"Why didn't you report him?"
"I did. The complaint disappeared. My hospital privileges were suspended, and two days later, a man followed my wife home from work."
He looked down at his hands.
"My wife died of a heart attack six months later. I have no proof the events were connected. But I never forgot the warning."
"Where is Emily?"
Dr. Reed studied me.
"Before I answer, you need to understand something. Emily didn't disappear because she feared your father alone."
"Then why?"
"She feared you would believe him."
He stood and walked to a filing cabinet.
From a locked drawer, he removed a thin folder.
Inside were copies of financial transactions, medical records, and a photograph of Daniel Mercer leaving a private clinic.
The date was three weeks before Emily disappeared.
"What was Daniel doing at the clinic?"
"Meeting a woman who was using the name Rebecca Lane."
"Who was she?"
"I don't know. But she was the mother of the second child."
I stared at the photograph.
"You're telling me Daniel knew the other girl's mother?"
"I believe he knew more than he admitted."
My phone rang.
Victoria.
I answered.
"Where are you?" she demanded.
"Maine."
A long silence followed.
"Lucas, come home. Father has had a stroke."
My stomach tightened.
"Is he alive?"
"Yes. But the doctors say he may not recover."
I looked at Dr. Reed.
"Put him on the phone."
"He can't speak."
"Then tell him I found the records."
Victoria's breathing changed.
"Don't do this now."
"Did Father know about the two babies?"
"Lucas—"
"Did he know?"
She hung up.
Dr. Reed placed a hand on my shoulder.
"Whatever you do next, don't confront him without understanding what he was trying to hide."
I returned to the estate that evening.
My father lay in his bedroom, surrounded by medical equipment. His face had grown thinner, and one side of his mouth drooped from the stroke.
Victoria stood beside the bed.
Daniel was near the window.
When he saw me, he looked almost relieved.
"How is he?" I asked.
"Stable," Victoria replied.
I approached the bed.
"Father, I know about the hospital."
His eyes opened.
For several seconds, he stared at me.
Then his gaze shifted to Victoria.
She shook her head almost imperceptibly.
I leaned closer.
"Did you threaten Emily?"
My father's fingers twitched.
"Did you tell her I wanted her gone?"
A tear slid from the corner of his eye.
Daniel stepped forward.
"That's enough. He's sick."
I turned on him.
"Get out."
"Lucas—"
"Now."
Daniel left, but not before giving Victoria a look I couldn't interpret.
My father struggled to move his hand.
I took it.
He pressed something into my palm.
A small brass key.
Then he forced out a single word.
"Basement."
Victoria went rigid.
I looked at the key.
"What is downstairs?"
My father closed his eyes.
Before I could ask again, Victoria seized my wrist.
"Don't open that door," she whispered.
May you like
Her voice was shaking.
"Because if you do, you'll discover that Emily wasn't the only person we buried alive."
