Chapter 5 - The Baby Who Didn’t Exist
For almost ten seconds, nobody moved.
The frozen image of Michael Hale remained on the monitor.
Noah isn’t my son.
Those words changed everything.
Briggs replayed the last twenty seconds.
Same result.
Same terrified face.
Same statement.
I leaned toward the screen.
“If Noah isn’t Michael’s son, whose baby is he?”
Briggs shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
“But Rebecca called him her son.”
“Eli called him his brother.”
“Maybe Eli doesn’t know.”
“What are you thinking?”
He stood.
“We need medical records.”
We went back upstairs.
Eli was awake.
He looked exhausted but calmer.
Briggs asked the nurses for privacy.
Then sat beside the bed.
“Eli.”
“I need to ask about Noah.”
Eli looked worried.
“Is he okay?”
“He’s fine.”
“This is about where he came from.”
Eli frowned.
“He’s my brother.”
“Did you see your mom pregnant?”
The question confused him.
“No.”
Briggs and I exchanged a glance.
“How long has Noah been with your family?”
Eli thought.
“Eight days.”
My chest tightened.
“Eight days?”
“Mom brought him home last week.”
“She said we had to keep him safe.”
Briggs leaned forward.
“Did she say whose baby he was?”
“No.”
“She just said his name was Noah.”
“Did your father ever see him?”
“No.”
“Dad disappeared before Noah came.”
A new piece clicked into place.
Rebecca had not simply been running with her children.
She had been protecting a baby who did not belong to her.
“Did anyone come looking for Noah?” I asked.
Eli nodded.
“The woman.”
“Evelyn?”
His face changed.
“You know her name?”
“We found it.”
He swallowed.
“She came to our house.”
“When?”
“Two days before Mom disappeared.”
“What happened?”
“Mom wouldn’t let her inside.”
“They argued.”
“About Noah?”
“Yes.”
“What did Evelyn say?”
Eli closed his eyes.
“She said Noah belonged to Hale.”
Not Michael.
Not Rebecca.
Hale.
A company.
A family.
Or something worse.
Briggs stood.
“I need DNA.”
Eli looked frightened.
“What for?”
“Just to identify Noah.”
“You’re not taking him away?”
“No.”
Briggs said it firmly.
Then he looked at me.
But I noticed something.
He wasn’t sure.
Two hours later, the first results came back.
The hospital ran a rapid kinship test.
Noah was not biologically related to Eli.
Not through Rebecca.
Not through Michael.
No family match.
None.
Briggs received another call.
Then another.
Finally, he walked into the hallway and motioned for me.
“The baby has no legal birth record.”
“What?”
“No hospital registration.”
“No state birth certificate.”
“No pediatric record.”
“Nothing.”
“That’s impossible.”
“For a normal birth, yes.”
“So where did he come from?”
Briggs looked toward the neonatal wing.
“That’s what we’re going to find out.”
The flash drive gave us the answer.
Buried inside the research folder were documents from a private medical facility.
North Ridge Pediatric Research Center.
The name sounded legitimate.
It wasn’t.
According to the records, it had been operating under three shell companies.
No public patient intake.
No website.
No insurance contracts.
No state inspection history.
But there were twenty-seven infant files.
Most identified only by numbers.
Noah was Subject 27.
I stared at the document.
“What were they doing to these babies?”
The technician scrolled.
Genetic screening.
Drug response mapping.
Neurological monitoring.
Experimental immune treatments.
My stomach turned.
“They were experimenting on newborns?”
Briggs didn’t answer.
Then we found a file marked INCIDENT.
Subject 27.
Fourteen days old.
Unexpected systemic reaction.
Protocol suspended.
Staff instructed to destroy physical records.
Briggs read faster.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“There.”
A line near the bottom.
SUBJECT REMOVED FROM FACILITY BY R.H.
Rebecca Hale.
Rebecca had stolen Noah from the facility.
Not for money.
Not for leverage.
She had rescued him.
I looked at Briggs.
“She found out what they were doing.”
“And took him.”
“Then Grant went after her.”
“Maybe.”
The door opened.
An agent entered.
“Briggs.”
“We found the white house.”
Every person in the room stopped.
“Where?”
“Forty minutes north.”
“Property belongs to a Hale Biomedical subsidiary.”
Briggs grabbed his jacket.
“Any movement?”
“Thermal scan shows at least three people inside.”
“Possible basement occupancy.”
My heart pounded.
“Michael?”
“Maybe Rebecca.”
Briggs turned to me.
“You’re staying here.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Eli trusts me.”
“This is not about Eli trusting you.”
“This is an armed operation.”
I pointed toward the hospital room.
“Someone already came here shooting.”
“If the people at that house know where we are, staying here isn’t safe either.”
Briggs looked frustrated because he knew I had a point.
“You’re not coming on the raid.”
“Fine.”
“Then move Eli and Noah.”
“We already are.”
“Where?”
“I’m not telling you.”
That made sense.
Still, I hated it.
Briggs left.
I went back to Eli.
He was looking out the window.
“Did you find the house?”
I sat beside him.
“How did you know?”
“You all make the same face when something bad is about to happen.”
I almost smiled.
“You’re twelve.”
“I’ve had a bad month.”
Fair enough.
“They found it.”
“Are they going there?”
“Yes.”
“Is Mom there?”
“I don’t know.”
He looked down.
“What if she is?”
“Then they’ll bring her back.”
“What if she isn’t alive?”
I didn’t answer immediately.
Then I said, “Then we find out what happened.”
“And we make sure the people who did it don’t get away.”
He nodded.
A nurse entered.
“Eli, we’re moving you.”
He looked at me.
“You coming?”
“I’ll follow.”
We were taken through a service corridor.
No public elevators.
No signs.
No visible police convoy.
Eli in a wheelchair.
Noah in a portable neonatal carrier.
Four agents around us.
We reached an underground loading bay.
Two black SUVs waited.
That was when the fire alarm went off.
Everyone froze.
Not because fire alarms were unusual.
Because we all knew what had happened the last time something unexpected happened.
The agents drew their weapons.
Briggs wasn’t there.
The lead agent shouted.
“Keep moving!”
A sprinkler pipe burst overhead.
Water exploded across the loading bay.
Lights flickered.
Then the garage door began closing.
“Go!”
We rushed toward the SUVs.
A delivery truck suddenly accelerated from the far side of the garage.
Straight toward us.
The driver never hit the brakes.
The first agent fired.
Bullets shattered the windshield.
The truck kept coming.
I grabbed Eli’s wheelchair and threw us behind a concrete pillar.
The truck smashed into one of the SUVs.
Metal screamed.
Glass exploded.
The neonatal carrier slid across the wet pavement.
“Noah!”
Eli tried to run toward it.
I caught him.
An agent reached the carrier first.
Then a woman stepped from behind the truck.
Cream coat.
Dark hair.
Calm face.
Evelyn Voss.
She raised a pistol.
“Put the baby down.”
The agent aimed back.
“Drop the weapon!”
Evelyn smiled.
“Do you have any idea who that child belongs to?”
Then she fired.
May you like
The agent collapsed.
And Evelyn grabbed Noah’s carrier.
