Chapter 6 - WHAT LEAH REMEMBERED
Vincent ran.
Damian’s guards reached for him.
A gunshot exploded.
The front window shattered.
Everyone dropped.
Vincent slammed through a side door while somebody outside fired again.
Damian’s men returned fire.
I covered Leah’s body with mine.
“Stay down!”
She screamed into my shoulder.
Damian crawled toward us.
“You hit?”
“No.”
“Leah?”
“She’s okay.”
Outside, tires screamed.
Vincent was gone.
Damian punched the floor.
For ten seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Leah lifted her head.
“Mommy car.”
Damian froze.
“What?”
She pointed toward the window.
“Bad man. Mommy car.”
I held her face gently.
“Leah, sweetheart, what do you remember?”
Damian looked at me.
“She’s three.”
“She remembers something.”
Leah started shaking again.
I pulled her close.
“No more questions.”
Damian nodded.
That surprised me.
Later, we sat in the kitchen.
Leah drew with crayons while Damian’s security team searched for Vincent.
She drew a black car.
A red car.
A stick figure.
Then another stick figure lying down.
Damian stared at the picture.
“That’s Elena’s car.”
“How do you know?”
“Red convertible.”
Leah took a black crayon and drew a line hitting the red car.
Damian’s face went gray.
The official report said Elena lost control on a wet road.
There had been no mention of another vehicle.
“Could a child that young remember this?” I asked.
“Trauma can stick,” said the psychologist Damian had brought in.
Dr. Rachel Kim sat on the other side of the table.
“Especially sensory fragments. Sounds. Shapes. Repeated images.”
Leah pointed at the black car.
“Bad man.”
Rachel leaned forward.
“Was the bad man driving?”
Leah shook her head.
“Phone.”
“What did he do with the phone?”
Leah pressed her toy rabbit to her ear.
“Go now.”
Damian closed his eyes.
Vincent had ordered someone to hit Elena’s car.
That was the theory.
We still needed proof.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
Damian looked at me.
“Don’t.”
I answered anyway.
“Hello?”
Silence.
Then a man’s voice.
“Emma Carter?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Paul Reeves.”
I stood.
The man from the restaurant.
Damian grabbed for the phone.
I pulled away.
“What do you want?”
“I want to stay alive.”
“Then start talking.”
“I worked security at St. Catherine’s.”
“I know.”
“I saw what they did to your baby.”
My legs went weak.
Damian turned on speaker.
Paul continued.
“You need to understand. Leah wasn’t the only one.”
“We saw the files.”
“The files Elena found were incomplete.”
“How many babies?”
Silence.
“Paul?”
“Forty-seven.”
I felt sick.
“Forty-seven babies?”
“Over eleven years.”
Damian leaned closer.
“Who ran it?”
“Mercer handled the hospital. Vincent found buyers.”
“Buyers?”
“Rich couples. Desperate people. Some knew. Some didn’t.”
My hands shook.
“Why were mothers told their babies died?”
“Because dead babies don’t get searched for.”
I thought I might throw up.
“Why are you calling now?”
“Because Vincent knows you have Elena’s evidence.”
“Where are you?”
“Old Union Station freight tunnel. Lower access.”
Damian’s security chief shook his head.
Trap.
Paul heard him.
“Bring whoever you want. I don’t care. But come before midnight.”
“Why?”
“Because I have something Elena gave me.”
“What?”
“A video.”
Damian’s face changed.
“Of what?”
Paul went quiet.
Then he answered.
“Of Vincent admitting exactly what he did.”
The line went dead.
Two seconds later, Damian received a message from an unknown number.
A photograph loaded.
Paul Reeves was sitting in a chair.
Blood running down his face.
Someone stood behind him.
Vincent.
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The text beneath the image contained six words.
COME ALONE OR HE DIES FIRST.
