Chapter 8 - THE PRICE OF MY BROTHEREvan Brooks was the last person I expected to see beside Adrian Cross.
My brother was twenty-nine.
A freelance software engineer.
Restless.
Brilliant.
Chronically allergic to stable employment.
He had spent years teasing me for becoming “the responsible Brooks.”
Now federal agents were showing me photographs of him boarding Cross’s private aircraft.
“What does Evan have to do with this?”
Ortiz hesitated.
“That’s what we’re trying to determine.”
I called him.
Disconnected.
His apartment was empty.
Laptop gone.
Passport gone.
Bank account showed a transfer of $250,000 received two days earlier.
From a Vectara shell company.
Caleb watched me absorb the news.
“Maybe there’s an explanation.”
I almost laughed.
“You said that about me when the fake emails appeared.”
“And I was right.”
“This looks different.”
“We don’t know that.”
An hour later, investigators found the connection.
MirrorAccess.
The program used to clone doctors’ credentials and alter hospital records had been built by a cybersecurity contractor.
A subcontractor on that project was Evan Brooks.
My brother had created part of the system that framed me.
I felt physically sick.
He had never told me he worked for St. Catherine’s.
Why would he?
I didn’t tell him every contract associated with my job.
But MirrorAccess wasn’t ordinary software.
It was supposed to allow emergency administrators to restore records during system failures.
Cross turned it into a weapon.
The question was whether Evan knew.
At 6:00 p.m., my mother called.
“Eliana, two men came to my house.”
“What men?”
“They said they were federal agents.”
“Mom, where are you?”
“Home.”
“Lock the door. I’m sending someone.”
“Is Evan in trouble?”
I couldn’t answer.
She started crying.
The last time I had seen Evan was six weeks earlier.
We argued over dinner.
He had asked me for money.
Twenty thousand dollars.
He claimed a business investment had failed.
I refused.
He called me controlling.
I called him irresponsible.
We hadn’t spoken since.
Now I wondered whether Vectara had paid his debt.
Or purchased his loyalty.
Then an encrypted email arrived.
From Evan.
I KNOW YOU HATE ME. PLEASE READ BEFORE YOU DECIDE I DESERVE IT.
Attached was a video.
Evan appeared in a motel room.
“El.”
His face looked exhausted.
“If you’re seeing this, Cross probably figured out I copied the server.”
I leaned toward the screen.
“I worked on MirrorAccess three years ago. It was supposed to be a disaster-recovery tool. Last year, I realized St. Catherine’s was using it to impersonate doctors.”
He rubbed his face.
“I should have told you immediately.”
Tears burned my eyes.
“But I owed money. A lot. Not twenty thousand. More like two hundred thousand.”
Caleb glanced at me.
Evan continued.
“Cross found out. He offered to clear the debt if I kept maintaining the system.”
I closed my eyes.
“So yes. I helped them.”
My brother’s voice cracked.
“I didn’t know patients were dying. I swear to God, I didn’t know until your name appeared in the logs after Maya Mercer died.”
He swallowed.
“I realized they used MirrorAccess to frame you.”
I whispered, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
The recorded Evan seemed almost to answer.
“I wanted to tell you. But Cross said if I did, they’d make the evidence point to you and me. I was scared.”
He held up a small drive.
“I copied everything. Every altered chart. Every cloned credential. Every administrator login.”
Then:
“Cross thinks I’m helping him escape tonight. I’m going because his private travel system has the final encryption key I need.”
Caleb stood.
“This video was sent when?”
Ortiz checked metadata.
Forty-three minutes earlier.
The plane hadn’t departed yet.
Federal teams surrounded the airfield.
We watched remotely.
Cross’s jet sat on the runway.
Margaret Shaw was arrested while trying to leave through a service gate.
Cross barricaded himself inside the hangar.
Evan was with him.
A negotiator called.
No response.
Then Evan called me.
Live.
“El.”
“Evan.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Where are you?”
“You know where.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Come out.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Cross has a dead-man switch.”
My heart sank.
“What kind?”
“If he doesn’t enter a code every thirty minutes, servers overseas release fabricated records naming dozens of doctors as Helix participants. You’re one of them.”
“Can you stop it?”
“I’m trying.”
“Let the FBI handle it.”
“They don’t understand the code.”
I heard Cross shouting in the background.
Evan whispered, “I have maybe five minutes.”
“Evan, listen to me.”
“I know what you’re going to say.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Eliana—”
“You made terrible choices.”
Silence.
“But you can still make one good one.”
He started crying.
“I’m sorry I put you in this.”
“Then come home and say it to my face.”
A gunshot sounded.
The call dropped.
I screamed his name.
Agents stormed the hangar.
The next twelve minutes were unbearable.
Then Ortiz’s radio crackled.
“Cross in custody.”
I grabbed her arm.
“Evan?”
She listened.
Then smiled.
“Alive.”
My knees nearly gave out.
Cross had fired into the ceiling when Evan attempted to escape.
Evan tackled him.
Agents entered seconds later.
My brother walked out in handcuffs because he had admitted his own crimes.
He saw me across the barricade.
I ran toward him.
An agent tried to stop me.
Ortiz waved him back.
I slapped Evan.
Hard.
He stared at me.
Then I hugged him.
“You idiot.”
“I deserved that.”
“You deserve several more.”
He laughed through tears.
“You came.”
“Of course I came.”
“I thought you’d hate me.”
“I’m furious with you.”
“Fair.”
“You helped them.”
“I know.”
“You let me think I killed Maya.”
His face broke.
“I know.”
I stepped away.
“I don’t know how long it will take me to forgive that.”
“You don’t have to.”
“But you’re my brother.”
Cross watched us from a federal vehicle.
For the first time, the legendary Dr. Adrian Cross looked small.
The server data Evan recovered was devastating.
It proved Project Helix.
It proved digital falsification.
It proved executive payments.
It proved surveillance.
It even identified the person who ordered my brake line damaged.
Douglas Crane.
By dawn, arrest warrants covered six states.
Vectara’s CEO resigned.
Trading in the company’s stock was halted.
St. Catherine’s board removed Margaret Shaw.
Families of Helix patients were contacted.
And the state medical board issued a statement.
The investigation into my conduct surrounding Maya Mercer’s death was reopened.
Three days later, they cleared me.
Completely.
But there was one thing I still needed to do.
I met Caleb at Maya’s grave.
He placed white lilies beside the stone.
“She liked these?”
“Hated roses,” he said.
I smiled faintly.
“Good to know.”
We stood quietly.
Then Caleb looked at me.
“I owe you something.”
“What?”
“The truth.”
“That would be refreshing.”
He almost smiled.
“I did approach you because of Maya.”
“I know.”
“But by the second week…”
He stopped.
“What?”
“I forgot why I was supposed to hate you.”
My throat tightened.
“That sounds inconvenient.”
“Extremely.”
“I don’t know whether I can trust you yet.”
“I know.”
“And I don’t want some dramatic promise.”
“Okay.”
“I need time.”
“I can do time.”
I looked at Maya’s name carved into stone.
“She brought us together in the worst possible way.”
Caleb nodded.
“Maybe.”
Then my phone rang.
Detective Ortiz.
Her first words erased the fragile calm.
“Eliana, Cross wants to make a deal.”
“For what?”
“He says Project Helix wasn’t the real project.”
My stomach tightened.
“What does that mean?”
“He claims there’s another hospital.”
May you like
Then another.
“And he says patients are being treated with VX-47 right now.”
