Chapter 6 - THE WOMAN THEY TOOKThe recording transformed the investigation overnight.
Federal warrants were signed before dawn.
Adrian Cross’s home was searched.
Douglas Crane’s office was sealed.
Vectara executives were detained for questioning.
But Cross himself had disappeared.
So had Natalie.
I listened to Maya’s recording three times.
Caleb listened once.
He couldn’t bear another.
The final forty seconds were the most disturbing.
After Maya escaped the initial confrontation, Cross could be heard speaking to someone.
“You know what has to happen.”
The unidentified voice answered:
“I’ll handle Mercer.”
That was the person who had ultimately poisoned Maya.
We still didn’t know who.
By noon, investigators traced Natalie’s car to an abandoned parking structure near Lake Michigan.
No body.
No obvious signs of violence.
Just her purse on the front seat.
Inside, officers found a torn receipt from a private medical storage facility owned by a Vectara subsidiary.
I recognized the address.
An old outpatient surgical center had operated there years earlier.
It closed after flooding.
Now it supposedly stored archived equipment.
Ortiz wanted a tactical team.
Federal agents agreed.
Caleb wanted to go.
They refused.
He argued until I pulled him aside.
“If Natalie is there, professionals need to get her out.”
“What if they move her before police arrive?”
“They’re already moving.”
“I sat quietly once while Maya was in danger.”
“This isn’t Maya.”
The cruelty of that sentence hit him.
I corrected myself.
“This isn’t about abandoning Natalie. It’s about not giving Cross another hostage.”
His shoulders dropped.
Two hours later, agents entered the facility.
Empty.
But not unused.
One room contained restraints.
IV equipment.
Medical waste.
Fresh food.
Someone had been there that morning.
On the wall was a printed photograph of me.
A red circle around my face.
Another showed Caleb.
Another showed Ortiz.
Then investigators discovered a basement.
Inside were paper files.
Hundreds.
Patient names dating back six years.
Project Helix had been larger than Maya knew.
Seventy-four patients.
Fourteen confirmed deaths.
Possibly more.
The facility had functioned as an unofficial research site.
One bed was still warm.
Natalie had been there.
A surveillance camera from a nearby gas station provided the next lead.
At 10:17 a.m., a white medical van left the building.
License plate traced to a hospice company.
The hospice company didn’t exist.
But the driver was identifiable.
Dr. Marcus Hale.
St. Catherine’s director of clinical research.
I knew Marcus.
Everyone did.
Quiet.
Unremarkable.
The kind of man who remembered nurses’ birthdays and donated anonymously to holiday toy drives.
He had also worked directly under Adrian Cross for eleven years.
His name was barely present in Maya’s files.
That suddenly seemed deliberate.
Agents searched his house.
Gone.
Bank accounts emptied.
His passport remained.
They issued an alert.
At 4:00 p.m., I received a call from a blocked number.
I answered under federal monitoring.
“Dr. Brooks?”
Natalie.
Her voice was weak.
“Natalie?”
Agents immediately began tracing.
“Eliana, listen carefully.”
“Where are you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you hurt?”
“Yes.”
“Can you see anything?”
“A room. No windows.”
Her breathing sounded ragged.
“They made me record a confession.”
“To what?”
“Maya’s murder.”
My stomach twisted.
“Who has you?”
Before she answered, another voice appeared.
Marcus Hale.
“Eliana.”
I looked at the agents.
One wrote:
KEEP HIM TALKING.
“Marcus.”
“You always were bright.”
“Where is Natalie?”
“Alive.”
“Let her go.”
“I will.”
“What do you want?”
“You.”
Caleb shook his head violently.
Marcus continued.
“Dr. Cross believes the situation has become unnecessarily theatrical. We need one final piece of clarification.”
“You mean another person to blame.”
“You were already perfect for that role.”
“Why me?”
“Because you were tired.”
His answer chilled me.
“A physician twenty hours into a shift makes mistakes. Everyone believes that.”
“You used my credentials.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Maya chose your emergency department. We needed her death to look accidental.”
“And Natalie’s badge?”
“She discovered MirrorAccess. She knew what we were doing.”
“Why did she borrow mine?”
Natalie spoke weakly in the background.
“I was trying to trace them.”
Marcus silenced her.
I forced myself to remain calm.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Come alone.”
Caleb mouthed NO.
“Where?”
“Instructions will arrive.”
“And if I don’t?”
Marcus sounded almost bored.
“Dr. Voss will have an unfortunate medical event.”
The call ended.
Agents had traced it to a cell tower zone twenty miles wide.
Caleb turned on me.
“You are not going.”
“If we can track them—”
“No.”
“Natalie is alive.”
“And they want to kill you.”
“They already tried.”
“That’s your argument?”
“It means staying hidden isn’t protecting me.”
Ortiz intervened.
“We can use the contact.”
Her plan was controlled.
I would appear to comply.
Agents would track me.
A concealed device would transmit everything.
Caleb hated every second.
“You can’t ask her to do this.”
Ortiz looked at him.
“I’m not asking.”
I said, “I’m volunteering.”
His anger collapsed into fear.
“Eliana.”
“Natalie tried to save Maya.”
“I know.”
“I owe her.”
“You don’t owe anyone your life.”
“No. But I owe myself the truth.”
An hour later, a text instructed me to drive to an abandoned rail yard.
Alone.
I wore a transmitter beneath my shirt.
Federal vehicles stayed miles back.
At the rail yard, I found a black SUV.
Keys inside.
A note:
LEAVE YOUR PHONE. DRIVE EAST.
The SUV’s navigation system activated automatically.
I followed.
Twenty-seven minutes later, I arrived at a warehouse.
Marcus stood inside.
Natalie was tied to a chair.
Alive.
Barely.
And beside Marcus stood Douglas Crane.
Not Adrian Cross.
“Where’s Cross?” I asked.
Crane smiled.
“Gone.”
“You mean he abandoned you.”
His smile faded.
Marcus pointed a gun.
“Sit.”
I sat.
Crane placed documents on a table.
A confession.
It stated that I had discovered Project Helix during Maya’s treatment.
That I blackmailed Cross for money.
That I intentionally administered the medication that killed Maya when she threatened to expose me.
Absurd.
But with enough fabricated electronic evidence, possibly believable.
“Sign,” Crane said.
“No.”
Marcus pressed the gun to Natalie’s temple.
“Sign.”
I picked up the pen.
My hand trembled.
Crane smiled.
“Smart.”
I looked at Natalie.
She stared at me.
Then her eyes moved downward.
Toward Marcus’s pocket.
A phone was recording.
I understood.
They wanted video proof of my confession.
I signed.
Crane relaxed.
Then I said, loudly and clearly:
“Now you have what you need. Just like when you altered Maya Mercer’s toxicology report and framed me using MirrorAccess.”
Crane froze.
Marcus stared at him.
“You idiot,” Crane whispered.
“What?”
“She’s baiting you.”
I continued.
“Adrian Cross ran Helix. Marcus poisoned Maya. You covered it up.”
Marcus stepped toward me.
“I didn’t poison her.”
The room went silent.
Crane closed his eyes.
Marcus realized too late.
I leaned forward.
“Then who did?”
His face changed.
“You don’t know.”
“No.”
He smiled.
For the first time.
“You’ve been looking at the wrong killer.”
Then gunfire erupted outside.
Federal agents had arrived.
Marcus grabbed me.
Crane ran.
Natalie screamed.
The warehouse exploded into chaos.
Marcus dragged me behind a steel partition.
His gun pressed against my jaw.
Agents shouted.
“DROP THE WEAPON!”
Marcus whispered against my ear.
“Maya trusted someone.”
My heart slammed.
“What?”
“She trusted the person who poisoned her.”
“Who?”
Marcus smiled.
Then Natalie screamed from across the room:
“Eliana! Don’t listen!”
Marcus’s eyes stayed on mine.
“It was never Cross.”
Agents moved closer.
May you like
Marcus lowered his voice.
“It was Natalie.”
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