For several seconds, I could not move.
The photograph on my phone showed Dad lying beneath a hospital blanket, his head turned slightly toward the window. The angle came from inside the room, close enough that whoever took it had stood only a few feet from his bed.
You should have left the envelope closed.
Maya read the message over my shoulder.
“When was this sent?”
“Just now.”
She checked the timestamp, then immediately called St. Vincent.
I called Dad.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
The air inside Daniel Mercer’s empty house felt suddenly too thin. I stepped toward the front door.
Maya caught my sleeve.
“Wait.”
“My father is alone in a hospital room.”
“And whoever sent that wants you frightened enough to rush somewhere without thinking.”
“He could already be hurt.”
“I know.”
Her voice was sharp enough to stop me.
She put the hospital on speaker.
After a transfer and several agonizing seconds of hold music, a nurse answered from the intensive care unit.
Maya identified herself.
“We need someone physically inside Arthur Hayes’s room now.”
“Is there an emergency?”
“Yes.”
“What kind?”
“A credible security threat.”
The nurse’s tone changed.
“One moment.”
We waited.
I stared at the photograph again.
Dad’s right hand was visible above the sheet.
His fingers were relaxed.
No blood.
No obvious struggle.
That meant nothing.
The nurse returned.
“Mr. Hayes is safe.”
My knees weakened.
“Is he awake?” I asked.
“Who is this?”
“His son.”
“He’s awake now. Hospital security is with him.”
“Who was in his room?”
“I don’t know.”
“Was Linda Barrett there?”
Silence.
Then, “Linda?”
“Yes. Linda Barrett.”
“I’m not familiar with that name.”
Maya and I looked at each other.
“She works there,” I said. “She was the person who contacted me when my father came in.”
The nurse hesitated.
“There’s no Linda Barrett assigned to this unit.”
The room around me seemed to tilt.
Maya stepped closer to the phone.
“Please check whether anyone by that name works for the hospital at all.”
“I can’t provide employee information.”
“Then contact security and ask them.”
The nurse agreed.
I ended the call and immediately opened my recent calls.
The number Linda had used was still there.
I dialed.
A recorded message answered.
The number was no longer in service.
Maya swore softly.
“She wasn’t hospital staff.”
“But she knew everything.”
“She knew enough to impersonate someone.”
“She walked around the hospital.”
“So do hundreds of visitors.”
“She handed me the envelope.”
“Which means she was close enough to Arthur to intercept it.”
I remembered the silver-framed glasses.
The calm expression.
The reassuring hand on my arm.
She had told me Dad was lucid.
She had known the warning he wrote.
Maybe she had even watched him write it.
My phone rang.
Dad.
I answered immediately.
“Are you okay?”
“I’ve been better.”
His voice sounded weak but irritated, which relieved me more than I expected.
“Who was in your room?”
“What?”
“Someone took a picture of you.”
Silence.
“Dad.”
“A woman came in.”
“What woman?”
“She said she was with administration.”
“What did she look like?”
“Mid-fifties. Glasses.”
“Linda.”
“Maybe.”
“Did you recognize her?”
“No.”
“What did she want?”
“She asked where I kept the original records.”
My skin went cold.
“What did you tell her?”
“That she should go to hell.”
Despite everything, I almost smiled.
“Then?”
“She smiled.”
“Dad.”
“It wasn’t friendly.”
“Did she touch anything?”
“My water.”
“Don’t drink it.”
“I already did.”
My stomach dropped.
“How much?”
“A sip.”
“Maya’s calling the hospital right now.”
Dad exhaled.
“Ethan, calm down.”
“Someone impersonated hospital staff and photographed you.”
“I’m aware.”
“You drank something she handled.”
“So far, I remain annoyingly alive.”
Maya was already calling the nurse again.
“Dad, where’s hospital security?”
“Outside.”
“Keep them there.”
“I wasn’t planning to throw them out.”
“Do you know Thomas Barrett?”
Another silence.
“Yes.”
Maya stopped dialing.
“What?”
“I know the name.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t connect him to her.”
“Who is he?”
“Victor’s investigator.”
“I know that much.”
“No. He was more than that.”
“What?”
Dad lowered his voice.
“He found Elena after the fire.”
I gripped the phone.
“When?”
“Years later.”
“And?”
“She got away.”
“How?”
“Daniel helped.”
“Did Barrett know about me?”
“Yes.”
The answer came too quickly.
“Since when?”
“Since you were a child.”
A chill moved through me.
“Then why didn’t Victor come after me?”
“Because Elena made herself more useful alive than you were useful as leverage.”
I stared at the floor.
“What does that mean?”
“She convinced Victor she still had records he needed.”
“So she stayed visible enough to distract him.”
“Yes.”
“For me.”
“Yes.”
The guilt arrived before I could stop it.
Thirty years.
My mother had not simply vanished.
She had stayed away because remaining lost was part of protecting me.
Maya touched my arm and pointed at my phone.
“Ask about Barrett’s family.”
“Dad, did Thomas Barrett have a wife?”
“I don’t know.”
“A woman named Linda?”
“Never heard of her.”
“Children?”
“I didn’t exactly exchange Christmas cards with him.”
“Think.”
Dad went quiet.
“There was a daughter.”
“How old?”
“About your age, maybe younger.”
“What was her name?”
“I don't remember.”
Maya typed quickly into her phone.
I paced Daniel’s living room.
“What happened to Barrett after Victor died?”
“He disappeared.”
“Why?”
“No idea.”
“That’s becoming a theme.”
Dad sighed.
“Ethan, I spent most of my life protecting you from people I hoped you’d never need to know existed.”
“And now I need everything.”
“I know.”
Maya turned her screen toward me.
A property record.
Thomas Barrett.
Spouse: Linda Barrett.
One child.
Rebecca Barrett.
“Dad.”
“What?”
“The daughter’s name was Rebecca.”
Silence.
“That sounds right.”
“Do you know her?”
“No.”
I looked at Maya.
She was already searching further.
“Stay with security,” I said.
“I will.”
“And tell the doctors about the water.”
“I already did.”
“You did?”
“Security has more common sense than you think.”
I almost laughed again.
Then Dad’s voice softened.
“Ethan.”
“Yeah?”
“Whatever you find, don’t let anger make every decision for you.”
I thought of Jessica.
“Little late for that.”
“No. It isn’t.”
The call ended.
Maya was still staring at her phone.
“What?”
“Rebecca Barrett changed her name.”
I felt another piece move into place.
“To what?”
She turned the screen.
Rebecca Louise Barrett had legally changed her name twelve years earlier.
Rebecca Mercer.
My pulse jumped.
“Mercer?”
“Yes.”
“Daniel Mercer?”
“Not necessarily.”
“It can’t be coincidence.”
Maya opened another record.
Then another.
Her expression sharpened.
“She married him.”
I stared.
“What?”
“Daniel Mercer married Rebecca Barrett eleven years ago.”
The timeline landed like a physical blow.
My father had hired Maya eleven years ago.
The same year.
“Does Dad know?”
“I don’t know.”
“Daniel married the daughter of the man who hunted my mother?”
“Yes.”
“And never mentioned it?”
“Apparently.”
The betrayal multiplied again.
Everyone had a secret.
Everyone had a reason.
And every secret seemed to point back toward Elena.
My phone vibrated.
Jessica had sent her location.
An abandoned shopping center on the east side.
She wrote one sentence.
SUV gone. I’m okay.
I called her.
She answered.
“You’re safe?”
“For now.”
“Listen to me. Linda Barrett isn’t hospital staff.”
“What?”
“She’s Thomas Barrett’s wife.”
Jessica went silent.
Then she whispered, “I know that name.”
“You said Thomas worked for Victor.”
“He did.”
“His daughter is Rebecca.”
Another pause.
“Oh God.”
“What?”
“Rebecca.”
“You know her?”
“I met her once.”
“When?”
“At my father’s house.”
“How old were you?”
“Seventeen.”
“Who was she?”
“Victor called her family.”
The word hung between us.
“What kind of family?”
“I never understood.”
“Jessica.”
“I swear.”
“Rebecca married Daniel Mercer.”
Jessica said nothing.
“Did you hear me?”
“Yes.”
“You knew Daniel?”
“No.”
“But Rebecca—”
“I knew the face.”
I could hear traffic around her.
Then she said, “Ethan, Victor had a photograph of Rebecca and Elena together.”
My heart stopped.
“When?”
“I don’t know. The picture looked old.”
“What were they doing?”
“Standing outside a diner.”
“Where?”
“I think California.”
Maya heard enough to step closer.
“What diner?” she asked.
Jessica hesitated.
“Red awning. White sign. I remember part of the name.”
“What?”
“Something Harbor.”
Maya and I looked at the photograph of Elena in Mendocino.
A coastal café.
“Jessica,” I said carefully, “the recent picture of Elena was taken outside a café.”
Her breathing changed.
“What café?”
“I don’t know the name.”
“We need to find out.”
Maya opened image search results on her phone, but I barely watched.
My attention had shifted toward Daniel’s wall of photographs.
One image showed a shoreline.
Another, a street in a small coastal town.
And in the corner of a third photograph, barely visible behind a parked truck, was a red awning.
I walked closer.
“Jessica.”
“Yes?”
“I think Daniel’s been there.”
“Where?”
“Mendocino.”
I removed the photograph from the wall.
On the back, someone had written a date.
Four months ago.
Two months before the photograph Daniel left for me.
Below the date was one word.
Rebecca.
Maya read it.
“Daniel wasn’t searching alone.”
“Or Rebecca found Elena first.”
My phone chimed.
Unknown number.
I expected another threat.
Instead, a video attachment appeared.
The preview showed Daniel.
He sat in a dim room, his face bruised.
Someone had bound his hands to a chair.
I pressed play.
Daniel looked directly at the camera.
“If Ethan sees this,” he said, “do not go to California.”
A man moved behind him, staying outside the frame.
Daniel swallowed.
“Elena is not safe.”
The video ended.
Then a second message arrived.
One photograph.
Jessica standing beside her car at the abandoned shopping center.
Taken from across the parking lot.
She was still on the phone with me when it arrived.
I looked at her location.
Then at the image.
“Jessica.”
“What?”
“Get in your car.”
“Why?”
“Now.”
She heard something in my voice and obeyed.
“What’s happening?”
“They can see you.”
A car engine started faintly on her end of the call.
“Ethan—”
“Drive.”
Her tires squealed.
Then the line crackled.
I heard a collision.
Metal against metal.
Jessica screamed.
The call went dead.
Click here to continue reading: PART 10: Jessica Vanished After the Crash, and Daniel’s Captors Finally Revealed What They Wanted From My Father
My Father Had Never Asked Me for Money Until He Appeared at My Door With a Deadline
Part 9 of 35
