Jason did not react immediately.
Perhaps there are limits to how many shocks the mind can process before it simply refuses another.
He kept one arm around Chloe.
“What does that sentence mean?”
Rebecca looked toward the officers.
“This is bigger than a family dispute.”
“Then explain it clearly.”
She nodded.
“Richard’s original study compared inherited traits across related donors.”
“We know.”
“He wasn’t only interested in fertility.”
“What else?”
“Disease resistance.”
Thomas frowned.
“What disease?”
“The clotting disorder was one.”
Rebecca continued.
“Richard’s family carried a mutation that caused severe illness in some descendants but appeared protective against another vascular condition.”
Jason stared.
“And Sophie?”
“She inherited a rare combination.”
“From me?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did you say Helen lied about her being mine?”
Rebecca shook her head.
“She is biologically yours.”
Jason’s face tightened.
“You just said—”
“Helen lied about why Sophie mattered.”
The distinction landed.
Jason held Chloe closer.
“What did Helen do?”
Rebecca turned to the laptop.
“She began collecting samples from Sophie at birth.”
“We know.”
“Afterward too.”
Jason frowned.
“How?”
“Routine pediatric blood draws.”
My stomach tightened.
“Her pediatrician?”
Rebecca nodded.
“Connected to Helen.”
Jason’s voice went cold.
“How many times?”
“At least six.”
Chloe whispered, “Does Mom know?”
“No.”
Rebecca’s answer was immediate.
Jason looked toward the police.
“Are you hearing this?”
One detective nodded.
“We are documenting everything.”
Rebecca continued.
“Helen believed Sophie’s genetic profile could lead to a therapy for the clotting disorder affecting Richard’s descendants.”
Thomas stared.
“So she was continuing the research.”
“Yes.”
“Illegally.”
“Yes.”
“Without consent.”
“Yes.”
Jason stepped away from Chloe.
“Then why not simply ask?”
Rebecca’s expression hardened.
“Because she believed your family would refuse.”
“She was right.”
“I know.”
“What does any of this have to do with Daniel’s death?”
Rebecca closed the laptop.
“Daniel discovered Sophie’s samples had been stored.”
“When?”
“Seven years ago.”
“The year Marcus died.”
“Yes.”
“And Dad died twelve years before that.”
Rebecca shook her head.
“Daniel Parker did not die nineteen years ago.”
The room went silent.
I stared at her.
“What?”
Thomas stepped forward.
“Rebecca.”
She looked at him.
“You still haven’t told them.”
Thomas’s face collapsed.
Jason stared.
“Tell us what?”
I could hear my own heartbeat.
“Thomas.”
He looked at me.
The grief in his face answered before his voice did.
“The man in the car wasn’t Daniel.”
The building seemed to tilt.
I grabbed the edge of a desk.
Jason whispered, “What?”
Thomas began shaking his head as though refusing his own words.
“Daniel staged his death.”
I stared at him.
Nineteen years.
A coffin I had not been permitted to open because of the damage.
A funeral.
Jason standing beside me in black.
Flowers.
Condolences.
Years of mourning layered on top of years of abandonment.
“He was alive.”
Thomas lowered his head.
“Yes.”
I crossed the room and struck him again.
This time harder.
He stumbled.
An officer stepped forward.
I lifted my hand.
“I’m done.”
Thomas’s cheek reddened.
He did not protest.
Jason looked physically sick.
“For how long?”
Thomas whispered, “Until seven years ago.”
I turned.
“What happened seven years ago?”
Rebecca answered.
“Daniel actually died.”
The words entered slowly.
Jason’s voice cracked.
“How?”
Rebecca looked at Thomas.
Thomas said nothing.
I stepped closer.
“How?”
Thomas closed his eyes.
“Murder.”
Chloe gasped.
Jason moved her toward one of the officers.
“Call your mom.”
“Dad—”
“Please.”
She understood.
She went aside with an officer and her phone.
Jason turned back.
“Who killed him?”
Rebecca spoke.
“Helen believes Marcus did.”
Thomas shook his head.
“No.”
“You know better?”
“Yes.”
“Then tell them.”
Thomas looked at me.
“Daniel was found in a rented cottage in Vermont.”
“Found by whom?”
“Me.”
My stomach turned.
“When?”
“Seven years ago.”
“The same year Marcus died.”
“Yes.”
“Before or after?”
“Two weeks after.”
Jason frowned.
“Marcus died first.”
“Yes.”
“Then he couldn’t have killed Dad.”
“Correct.”
Rebecca crossed her arms.
“That depends on the official date of Marcus’s death.”
Thomas looked at her.
“What are you saying?”
“Marcus did not die when you think he did.”
Of course.
Another false death.
Another record.
Another lie.
Rebecca opened a different file.
“Marcus entered hospice under an alias because Helen was treating him privately.”
Jason stared.
“How long did he live after the reported suicide?”
“Twenty-three days.”
Thomas whispered, “No.”
“You never saw his body.”
Thomas’s face showed that she was right.
“He could have killed Daniel.”
Rebecca nodded.
“Possibly.”
Jason said, “Possibly isn’t enough.”
Rebecca looked at him.
“No.”
“What evidence do you have?”
“A recording.”
She inserted another flash drive.
Daniel appeared on screen.
Older.
Gray-haired.
Alive years after we had buried him.
I sat because my legs could no longer hold me.
He was seated in a room I did not recognize.
The date stamp was eight years ago.
Daniel looked directly at the camera.
“If Eleanor ever sees this, I have already failed her twice.”
I began crying before he said another word.
Jason crouched beside my chair.
Daniel continued.
“The first failure was leaving.”
He paused.
“The second was allowing her to believe I died.”
I covered my mouth.
“I told myself both choices protected her.”
His expression twisted with shame.
“Protection without consent is only another form of control. Richard taught me that. I understood too late that I had become more like him than I wanted to admit.”
Jason looked at me.
Neither of us spoke.
Daniel continued.
“I stayed hidden because the people preserving Richard’s records were still watching Jason.”
A pause.
“Later they watched Emily.”
Another pause.
“Now they are watching the girls.”
Jason’s face hardened.
Daniel leaned toward the camera.
“Chloe is Jason’s biological daughter.”
Jason shut his eyes.
Confirmation.
Directly from Daniel.
“Early tests were corrupted by mislabeled samples. I discovered the error too late to undo the harm my suspicion caused.”
His face tightened.
“Sophie is also Jason’s biological daughter.”
Jason whispered, “Both.”
I squeezed his hand.
Daniel continued.
“Sophie carries a genetic combination Helen believes could correct the clotting disorder in several related descendants.”
Rebecca looked toward Thomas.
Daniel said, “Helen calls this treatment. Marcus calls it survival. I call it the continuation of Richard’s crime.”
My skin prickled.
“They wanted Sophie.”
Thomas whispered it.
Rebecca nodded.
Daniel continued.
“I confronted Helen. She promised no procedure would ever be performed without consent.”
He gave a bitter smile.
“I did not believe her.”
Jason stared at the screen.
“What procedure?”
Rebecca answered quietly.
“Bone marrow harvesting initially. Later gene-editing trials.”
Jason’s face changed.
“On a child?”
“Potentially.”
He stepped backward.
“No.”
Daniel continued.
“I removed the remaining samples and hid the original ledgers.”
We had found them.
“I believed that ended it.”
He looked tired.
“It did not.”
The recording jumped.
A later date.
Daniel now had a bruise near his left eye.
“Marcus found me.”
Jason leaned forward.
Daniel continued.
“He claims Helen lied to him about Sophie. He says he never intended to hurt either girl.”
Thomas whispered, “That sounds like him.”
Daniel spoke.
“He wants treatment. He is dying.”
A pause.
“I almost pity him.”
Then Daniel’s expression hardened.
“Almost.”
The video jumped again.
The final date was seven years ago.
Two days after Marcus’s publicly reported suicide.
Daniel looked frightened.
I had almost never seen him frightened.
“If this is the last entry, Marcus is alive.”
Thomas stood.
Rebecca looked at him.
Daniel continued.
“Helen helped fake his death so he could receive experimental treatment without scrutiny.”
Jason stared.
“And Sophie was the donor.”
Rebecca shook her head.
“Not yet.”
Daniel said, “They need Sophie’s fresh marrow.”
Jason’s face drained.
“She was two.”
“Yes,” Rebecca whispered.
Daniel continued.
“I moved her stored samples tonight.”
Jason frowned.
“Moved them where?”
Daniel did not say.
Instead he looked directly into the camera.
“I have arranged to meet Marcus tomorrow.”
Thomas shook his head.
“Daniel.”
“If he agrees to stop, I will help him pursue legal treatment.”
A pause.
“If he refuses, I go to the authorities with everything.”
The recording ended.
Jason stared at the blank screen.
“What happened at the meeting?”
Thomas sat heavily.
“I followed Daniel.”
“You knew?”
“He called me.”
“And?”
“We went to the cottage.”
“We?”
“Daniel and me.”
My voice shook.
“What happened?”
Thomas looked at his hands.
“Marcus arrived.”
“Alone?”
“No.”
“Who was with him?”
“Helen.”
Rebecca interrupted.
“Helen told me she never went.”
Thomas gave her a bitter look.
“Helen lies.”
“What happened?”
Thomas breathed slowly.
“Daniel had the ledgers.”
“No,” Jason said. “The ledgers were in the truck.”
“Copies.”
Jason nodded.
Thomas continued.
“Marcus was very sick. Thin. Could barely stand.”
“Did he want Sophie?”
“He wanted treatment.”
“That is not the same question.”
Thomas looked up.
“Yes.”
Jason’s jaw clenched.
“He wanted to use my daughter.”
“He believed one marrow collection could save him.”
“She was two years old.”
“I know.”
“What did Dad say?”
“No.”
The answer was immediate.
“Daniel refused.”
Thomas’s eyes filled.
“They argued.”
“Then?”
“Helen tried to calm them.”
“Then?”
“Marcus pulled a gun.”
I stopped breathing.
Jason whispered, “He shot Dad.”
Thomas shook his head.
“No.”
“Then who?”
Thomas’s face folded inward.
“I did.”
Nobody moved.
I stared.
“You?”
“It was an accident.”
The words barely came.
“Marcus pointed the gun at Daniel. I grabbed his arm. We fought.”
Thomas pressed both hands over his face.
“The gun fired.”
I felt nothing.
Not yet.
“Daniel was hit.”
Thomas nodded.
“Where?”
“Chest.”
“Did he die immediately?”
“No.”
My voice became strangely calm.
“Did you call an ambulance?”
Thomas shook his head.
I stepped closer.
“Why?”
“Daniel wouldn’t let me.”
“What?”
“He knew police would find everything.”
“I don’t care.”
“He did.”
“I don’t care.”
Thomas was crying.
“He told us to leave.”
“You left my husband dying?”
“Eleanor—”
“You left him.”
“He made me promise—”
I slapped the table instead of him.
“Stop using promises as excuses!”
The sound echoed.
Even the detectives looked away.
Thomas bowed his head.
“Helen stayed.”
I turned toward Rebecca.
“Helen stayed with Daniel?”
Thomas nodded.
“Marcus and I left.”
“Why?”
“Marcus was bleeding too. The gun tore his arm.”
“What happened to him?”
“He died three days later.”
“For real this time?”
“Yes.”
Jason whispered, “And Dad?”
Thomas’s voice became nearly inaudible.
“Helen said he died before sunrise.”
I closed my eyes.
Daniel had not died on a mountain road.
He had died in a cottage after refusing to let men take something from his granddaughter.
I hated him.
I loved him.
I wanted to strike him for every lie.
I wanted one minute to tell him he had not needed to carry any of it alone.
When I opened my eyes, Rebecca was watching me.
“You said Helen told you something different.”
“Yes.”
“What?”
Rebecca hesitated.
“She said Daniel did not die that morning.”
Thomas stood abruptly.
“That’s impossible.”
“She said he survived.”
“No.”
“She said she moved him.”
“Where?”
Rebecca looked toward the detectives.
“To a private facility.”
Jason stared.
“For how long?”
Rebecca’s expression tightened.
“Six months.”
I could barely breathe.
“Why?”
“To keep him from reporting the research.”
Thomas whispered, “She imprisoned him.”
Rebecca nodded.
“What happened after six months?” Jason asked.
Rebecca looked at me.
“Daniel escaped.”
Hope rose inside me before reason could stop it.
Seven years ago.
Six months later.
That still left years.
“Where did he go?”
“No one knows.”
Thomas stared.
“Then he could still be alive.”
Rebecca shook her head.
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you don’t know he’s dead.”
“No.”
Jason looked at me.
I saw the same impossible thought enter him.
After twenty-four years of loss and nineteen years of mourning, we had reached a place where even death itself no longer seemed trustworthy.
Then one detective approached.
“We just got a call from officers at Dr. Voss’s residence.”
My body tightened.
“What happened?”
The detective looked at Rebecca.
“The house is empty.”
Jason frowned.
“Helen left?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Unknown.”
“Did she take the records?”
“Some appear to be missing.”
Rebecca closed her eyes.
Jason swore.
The detective continued.
“There was also a note.”
“For whom?”
He looked at me.
“For Eleanor.”
“What does it say?”
He handed me a photograph sent from the scene.
Helen’s handwriting filled half a sheet.
Eleanor—
Daniel survived because I helped him survive.
What I did afterward was unforgivable.
If you want the final truth about him, come to St. Catherine’s old north wing.
Come before they move him again.
My hands began shaking.
Jason read over my shoulder.
He stopped at the last word.
“Him.”
Thomas whispered, “No.”
I looked at Jason.
For the first time since this nightmare began, neither of us needed to say what we were thinking.
Helen had written in the present tense.
Move him again.
Daniel might not be a memory.
He might be waiting somewhere behind another locked door.
Click here to continue reading: PART 13: Helen’s Final Message Sent Us Beneath the Abandoned Hospital, Where Someone Had Been Keeping Daniel’s Identity Alive for Years
A Small Question at Sunday Dinner Made Me Notice What Everyone Else Had Chosen Not to See
Part 12 of 15
