Chapter 6 - The Man Without His Name
Evelyn Grant did not sound pleased to hear from Dominic Moretti.
That made Dominic trust her slightly more.
“You have thirty seconds,” she said.
“I have evidence linking Victor Shaw to money laundering, attempted murder, false identification of a body, and an illegal confinement operation at Saint Vincent Neurological Center.”
Silence.
Then:
“You have twenty-five seconds.”
Anna stood across the music-store office with her arms folded.
Michael leaned against the wall.
Dominic continued.
“A man named Noah Carter may be held at Saint Vincent under a false identity. His wife is here. We have a recording and financial records.”
“You expect me to believe you suddenly developed civic responsibility?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“I expect you to believe Victor Shaw is more useful arrested than dead.”
Anna’s eyes narrowed.
“That was a joke,” Dominic added.
“No, it wasn’t,” Evelyn said.
“No.”
Twenty minutes later they were on a secure video call.
Evelyn listened to Noah’s recording twice.
Then she said, “Nobody goes to Saint Vincent except federal agents.”
Anna leaned forward.
“My husband is there.”
“Maybe. And if he is, we improve his chances by not arriving with the Moretti family motorcade.”
Dominic nodded.
“She’s right.”
Anna turned on him.
“Of course you think that.”
“No. I hate it. That’s why it’s probably smart.”
Agents reached Saint Vincent seventy-three minutes later.
The clinic sat among pine trees outside Kenosha.
Dr. Aaron Preston denied knowing Noah Carter.
Evelyn called back.
“He says there has never been a patient by that name.”
Michael paced.
“Ask about Nathan Cole.”
Anna looked at him.
“Who?”
“The alias attached to the photograph I found.”
Evelyn repeated the name.
Then:
“We have a room.”
Anna’s knees nearly gave out.
“Is he there?”
Silence.
“No.”
Anna shut her eyes.
“He was discharged at six-fifteen this morning. Transferred by private medical transport.”
“To where?”
“Paperwork says Ohio.”
Michael shook his head.
“Fake.”
The room was still warm.
Personal items remained.
Medication bottles.
A shaving kit.
Two paperback novels.
And drawings taped inside the wardrobe.
One showed a stick-figure woman holding a little girl’s hand beneath a yellow sun.
Across the top someone had written:
ANNA + LILY.
Anna made a sound that was half sob, half laugh.
“He remembers us.”
The nursing supervisor eventually admitted Nathan Cole had arrived three years earlier with severe head trauma and memory loss.
Victor Shaw had paid for his treatment through a private trust.
When Noah began remembering more, his medication changed.
“They kept him fogged,” Michael said.
Evelyn remained careful.
“We’ll prove what happened through medical records.”
Then a plate-reader hit came in.
The medical transport van had crossed back into Illinois.
It was heading toward Chicago.
Anna’s fear became something harder.
“Victor wants something from Noah.”
The van was found abandoned under an expressway thirty minutes later.
No driver.
No Noah.
A small amount of blood lay near an IV tube.
Anna stopped breathing.
Evelyn immediately said, “We don’t know that anyone was seriously hurt.”
Then Carlo’s phone buzzed.
A photograph.
Noah Carter sat in a wooden chair inside what looked like a warehouse office.
Thinner.
Older.
Alive.
He held today’s newspaper.
Across the image were six words.
BRING ME MICHAEL. GET NOAH BACK.
Michael reached for his coat.
Dominic blocked him.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I already buried you once.”
“You buried somebody else.”
“I mourned you.”
Michael’s anger cracked.
“And Anna mourned Noah. Lily grew up without him. This started because I asked Noah to help me.”
Anna stepped between them.
“No.”
Michael looked at her.
“My husband did not spend three years surviving so you could trade your life for his.”
“Then what do you suggest?”
Anna looked at the photograph.
For the first time all day, her fear became focus.
“I suggest we stop letting Victor decide the rules.”
She pointed at the newspaper Noah held.
“Zoom in.”
Carlo enlarged the image.
A reflection shimmered in the office window behind Noah.
Red letters, reversed in the glass.
Dominic read them.
“Riverside Cold Storage.”
Carlo’s head snapped up.
“That place closed last year.”
Anna looked at Dominic.
“We know where he is.”
May you like
Dominic reached for his phone.
This time, he called Evelyn first.
