Chapter 6 - The Woman Who Never Died
Daniel didn't pull out a gun.
He pulled out a photograph.
It showed Adeline standing outside her elementary school.
Taken that morning.
My stomach dropped.
“Put it down,” I said.
Daniel smiled.
“Richard wants the documents. That's all.”
“Then tell him to come get them himself.”
“He already has what he needs.”
Dr. Morales stepped between us.
“Daniel, please. This has gone far enough.”
He looked at her coldly.
“You should have stayed out of this.”
Then he placed another photograph on the table.
Elena.
Alive.
Standing outside a small house surrounded by trees.
“Your wife is safe,” he said. “For now.”
I grabbed his collar.
“Where is she?”
Daniel didn't resist.
“You're asking the wrong question.”
“What question should I ask?”
“Why she never came back.”
He pulled free and walked toward the door.
I followed, but two security officers suddenly appeared.
Daniel disappeared into the corridor.
When I returned to Adeline, she was gone.
The nurse who had been watching her was unconscious.
A window stood open.
I called security.
Then my phone rang.
An unfamiliar female voice spoke.
“Marcus.”
I froze.
It was Elena.
“Listen carefully. Don't trust the police, don't trust Richard, and don't trust the doctor.”
“Where are you?”
“I'm coming for Adeline.”
“She's missing!”
“I know.”
My blood turned to ice.
“What do you mean, you know?”
“I saw the car outside the hospital. Daniel took her.”
“Then tell me where you are!”
“I can't. Richard is watching.”
I heard a door slam on her end.
Then a man's voice.
“Give me the phone, Elena.”
The call ended.
I immediately sent the recording to Detective Harper.
She responded within minutes.
Stay inside the hospital. Do not leave.
But I wasn't staying anywhere.
I went to Vincent's hospital room and searched through the belongings the nurses had collected.
His wallet was there.
His keys.
His watch.
And beneath his folded jacket, a small envelope addressed to Adeline.
Inside was a child's drawing.
A house.
Three people holding hands.
And a fourth person standing behind a black fence.
On the back, Vincent had written:
The old summer house. The place where everything began.
I recognized it immediately.
My father's estate outside the city.
The property had supposedly been sold years ago.
But the drawing showed something else.
A tiny red door beside the garage.
A door I remembered from childhood.
I called Detective Harper.
“I'm going to the summer house.”
“Marcus, absolutely not.”
“My daughter is there.”
She went silent.
Then she said something that changed everything.
“Mr. Hale, we searched that property this morning.”
“And?”
“There was a vehicle outside.”
“What kind?”
“A black SUV.”
“Who was inside?”
She hesitated.
“Your uncle Richard.”
I stared at the drawing.
“Was anyone else there?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
May you like
Her answer was almost inaudible.
“Your father.”
