I called Michael before leaving the basement.
He answered immediately.
“Mom?”
“Listen carefully.”
Something in my voice silenced him.
“Do not let anyone take blood from Emma or Noah unless you or Rachel physically watches the sample labeling and knows exactly where it goes.”
“What happened?”
“I found active storage.”
“What kind of storage?”
“Biological samples.”
Silence.
“Whose?”
“Ours.”
“What?”
“Mine. Yours. Rachel’s. Emma’s. Noah’s.”
His breathing changed.
“Where are you?”
“With Klein.”
“Are you safe?”
“Yes.”
“Is this Pierce?”
“I don’t know.”
“Mom.”
“I don’t know.”
That was the truth.
“Tell Rachel.”
“I will.”
“And call Dr. Patel. Tell her someone may have obtained Emma’s previous lab samples improperly.”
Michael swore.
“I’m coming.”
“No. Stay with Emma.”
“But—”
“Stay with your daughter.”
A pause.
Then, “Okay.”
I hung up.
Klein photographed everything before touching another object.
Every rack.
Every ledger page.
Every serial number.
Then he called an attorney.
Not his own.
A federal healthcare fraud attorney he had worked with previously.
“What are you doing?”
“Ending Daniel’s plan.”
“What does that mean?”
“He wanted complete copies before anyone knew.”
“We have enough?”
“We have evidence of current unauthorized biological storage involving minors.”
He looked at me.
“This is no longer about protecting an investigation from being spoiled.”
“Good.”
Klein called law enforcement.
For the first time since this began, someone stopped deciding that secrecy was the safest option.
Within two hours the building was no longer ours to search.
Investigators arrived.
Then more.
Questions.
Photographs.
Names.
I handed over copies, not originals, exactly as Daniel had instructed.
That irritated me.
Even dead, he was sometimes right.
When I returned to the hospital, Rachel was waiting in the hallway.
Her face told me Michael had explained everything.
“Emma had blood taken here yesterday.”
“I know.”
“Could someone have taken some?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who has access?”
“I don’t know.”
She pressed her fingers against her lips.
Michael stood behind her.
“I spoke to Patel.”
“And?”
“She called hospital security and the lab director.”
“Good.”
“They’re tracing every specimen.”
Rachel looked at me.
“Pierce knew she might get sick.”
“He saw her blood counts.”
“And did nothing.”
“Yes.”
Rachel’s jaw tightened.
“If he comes near my child—”
“He won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No.”
I corrected myself.
“You’re right. I don’t.”
Emma called from inside the room.
“Mom?”
Rachel immediately went in.
I watched her transform.
Fear hidden.
Voice steady.
Mother first.
Secrets later.
Michael stood beside me.
“They repeated her blood work.”
“Did you watch?”
“Yes.”
“Every step?”
“Yes.”
He almost smiled.
“You’ve made me paranoid.”
“No.”
I looked through the glass.
“Someone else earned that.”
Dr. Patel came an hour later.
The genetics team had found the variant Klein mentioned.
Emma carried two altered copies.
One inherited through Michael.
One through Rachel.
The relationship between their family lines had increased the possibility of that combination occurring.
“Is that why she’s sick?” Rachel asked.
“It likely explains part of what we’re seeing.”
“Can it be treated?”
“Yes.”
That single word changed the room.
Not cured.
Not simple.
But treated.
Dr. Patel explained that Emma’s marrow disorder appeared early and relatively mild compared with severe forms.
Medication.
Monitoring.
Possibly growth-factor support.
If progression occurred, more intensive treatment could be considered.
Bone marrow transplant was not the immediate plan.
Rachel cried quietly.
Michael held her hand.
“What about Noah?” I asked.
“He should be tested.”
Rachel nodded immediately.
“No secrets.”
Dr. Patel looked confused by the phrase.
None of us explained.
After she left, Anna arrived with Noah.
He ran to me first.
“Grandma.”
I hugged him and smelled shampoo and crayons.
Six years old.
Another child whose blood had apparently become somebody’s data.
Anna looked exhausted.
“Margaret called.”
“What about?”
“Samuel.”
My heart tightened.
“What happened?”
“He’s coming here.”
“From Phoenix?”
“He was already traveling.”
“Why?”
“He decided he wanted to see Michael.”
Michael looked up.
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
Rachel closed her eyes.
“One family revelation per day would be nice.”
Anna almost smiled.
Then stopped herself.
“No, that was funny.”
Rachel gave a tired laugh.
For one second the room felt human again.
Then hospital security arrived.
Two men.
One woman.
They asked Michael and Rachel to step into the hallway.
I followed.
The security supervisor spoke quietly.
“We reviewed access to Emma’s laboratory specimens.”
Rachel folded her arms.
“And?”
“There was an irregularity yesterday.”
My stomach tightened.
“What irregularity?”
“One tube was logged for disposal after testing.”
“And?”
“It was removed from the disposal bin before destruction.”
Michael’s face hardened.
“By whom?”
“We’re still determining that.”
“You have cameras.”
“Yes.”
“Then determine it.”
The supervisor nodded.
“We are reviewing footage.”
Rachel said, “Who could physically access that area?”
“Laboratory staff. Couriers. Certain physicians.”
“Retired physicians?”
The woman hesitated.
“Not ordinarily.”
“Leonard Pierce?”
She looked surprised.
“Dr. Pierce?”
“You know him?”
“He trained several physicians here years ago. He still occasionally attends educational events.”
My skin went cold.
“When was he last in this hospital?”
She consulted a tablet.
Then looked up.
“This morning.”
No one spoke.
“This morning?” Michael said.
“Yes.”
“What time?”
“His visitor badge was issued at 8:17.”
I had been driving to Charlottesville.
Pierce had been here.
“Did he visit Emma?”
“No record shows him entering this floor.”
“Where did he go?”
“The pathology wing.”
Rachel went pale.
“Where her samples are processed.”
“Yes.”
Michael pulled out his phone.
“I’m calling Klein.”
Security continued.
“His badge was deactivated at 9:02, but we don’t yet have an exit time.”
“You mean he could still be here?” I asked.
“We’re checking.”
Rachel immediately returned to Emma’s room and shut the door.
Michael called Klein.
I stood in the hallway looking toward every elevator.
Every older man.
Every white coat.
Fear distorts ordinary people quickly.
A janitor became a threat.
A visitor carrying flowers became suspicious.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Ellen.”
Pierce.
My heart stopped.
“Where are you?”
“You found the vault.”
“How do you know?”
“Because the monitor alerted me.”
“You maintain it.”
“Yes.”
“Emma’s sample.”
Silence.
“You took it.”
“No.”
“Do not lie to me again.”
“I did not take it.”
“You were in the pathology wing.”
“To stop someone else.”
“Who?”
“Ellen, listen carefully.”
“No. You listen. Law enforcement has the vault.”
“I know.”
“If you come near Emma—”
“I am trying to protect her.”
I nearly laughed.
“That word means nothing from you.”
“Thomas’s work did not end when he died.”
“I figured that out.”
“You think I continued it.”
“You did.”
“Yes.”
The admission stunned me.
“I continued observation.”
“You watched children.”
“Yes.”
“You stole medical data.”
“Yes.”
“You preserved samples.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I was trying to identify everyone Thomas had affected.”
“By repeating what he did?”
Pierce was silent.
“You became him.”
“No.”
“You tell yourself the purpose was different.”
“Yes.”
“That is what everyone who violates another person says.”
Pierce’s breathing became audible.
“Maybe.”
The word was small.
“Who took Emma’s sample?”
“Someone connected to St. Matthew’s old research program.”
“Name.”
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No.”
“Then give me something useful.”
“There were three people besides Thomas who knew the full archive existed.”
“You.”
“Yes.”
“Who else?”
“Robert Ames.”
“Dead.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
Pierce hesitated.
“My biological father.”
“Dead.”
“Yes.”
“Then who is left?”
Pierce answered.
“Someone who had access through him.”
“Who?”
“Margaret.”
I froze.
“No.”
“She knew about Westbridge.”
“She said she didn’t.”
“She lied.”
My grip tightened.
“Why would Margaret continue Thomas’s work?”
“I didn’t say she did.”
“You implied it.”
“I said she had access.”
“Did you see her take Emma’s sample?”
“No.”
“Then stop.”
Pierce exhaled.
“Ask her where she was yesterday afternoon.”
I remembered.
She stayed behind at Judith Palmer’s house.
Then later?
I did not know.
“Where are you?”
Pierce ignored the question.
“Ellen, the person maintaining the current archive has been entering data under an old code.”
“What code?”
“M.M.”
My mind raced.
Margaret Morgan.
“Her initials.”
“Yes.”
“That proves nothing.”
“No.”
“But?”
“But Thomas used initials to identify researchers.”
My stomach tightened.
“Was Margaret ever involved?”
Pierce went silent.
“Leonard.”
“When she was young, she helped Rebecca copy records.”
“That sounds like she was helping expose Thomas.”
“She was.”
“Then why are you making her sound suspicious?”
“Because after Rebecca died, Margaret changed.”
“How?”
“She became loyal to her father.”
I remembered Margaret admitting she had helped keep Anna away from Daniel.
“Did she work at St. Matthew’s?”
“No.”
“Westbridge?”
“Briefly.”
I stopped.
“She worked there?”
“Administrative work. 1987 to 1991.”
The exact years surrounding Michael’s conception.
“She never told me.”
“I doubt she told Daniel.”
“Did Thomas involve her?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did she know Samuel’s sample was used?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then what do you know?”
Pierce’s voice lowered.
“She was the person who called me the morning of your procedure and said Thomas was about to do something unforgivable.”
I stopped breathing.
“She warned you?”
“Yes.”
“And you still signed the report.”
“Yes.”
“What did Margaret say?”
“That if I didn’t stop Thomas, Rebecca would never forgive any of us.”
My voice went cold.
“Rebecca was dead.”
“I know.”
Pierce paused.
“Margaret knew exactly what Thomas intended.”
The call disconnected.
I immediately called Margaret.
No answer.
Again.
Voicemail.
Michael looked at me.
“What?”
“Pierce says Margaret knew.”
Anna, who had been standing with Noah near the window, went pale.
“Knew what?”
“That Thomas was going to substitute Samuel’s sample.”
“No.”
“He says she called him that morning.”
Anna shook her head.
“Aunt Margaret would have told us.”
I looked at her.
“Would she?”
The question hurt.
Because after everything we had learned, none of us had the right to assume what love would make someone disclose.
My phone buzzed.
A message from Margaret.
I’m sorry. I should have told you before you found out this way.
Below it was an address.
Then:
Come alone. I have Rebecca’s original files.
Click here to continue reading: PART 16: Margaret Finally Confessed What She Knew the Morning Michael Was Conceived, but Rebecca’s Files Revealed Someone Else Had Chosen Me
The Last Thing Daniel Said Made No Sense Until a Stranger Knocked Before I Had Put Away His Funeral Dress
Part 15 of 20
