Chapter 13 - THE WOMAN IN ROOM 17
The photograph had been taken through a window.
The woman sat in a wheelchair beside a small table, staring at a garden outside the building. She wore a pale blue cardigan, and her silver hair was pulled into a loose bun.
Her face was older than the woman in my father's photograph, but I could see the resemblance immediately.
She looked like my father.
Not just in the eyes or the shape of her jaw, but in the way she held her head slightly to one side when she was thinking.
I had seen that expression in family photographs throughout my childhood.
For the first time, I understood what my aunt had meant when she said my father had spent his final years trying to find his daughter.
He had not been searching for a stranger.
He had been searching for a piece of his own life.
Carter traced the image's transmission to a temporary digital account, but the sender had taken steps to conceal the source.
The photograph's metadata was incomplete.
The only useful clue was a faint sign visible in the background.
Briarwood Care Residence.
A location.
A starting point.
We found the facility in a rural district nearly two hours from the city. It was a private residential center specializing in long-term care for people with neurological injuries and memory disorders.
Its website described a peaceful environment, experienced staff, and a strict commitment to patient privacy.
The place looked respectable.
That made me more suspicious, not less.
Carter contacted the local authorities and arranged for an initial welfare inquiry. We did not want to alert anyone who might be monitoring the facility, but we also could not simply arrive and remove a resident without establishing who she was and whether she was in danger.
Before leaving, I visited Emily and Lily.
Lily had been building a tower from plastic blocks on the floor.
“Daddy, are we going to find the woman in the picture?”
I crouched beside her.
“We're going to find out who she is.”
“Is she Mommy's friend?”
I looked at Emily.
She smiled faintly.
“She might be someone who needs help, sweetheart.”
Lily considered that.
“Then we should help her.”
I kissed her forehead.
“Yes. We should.”
The drive to Briarwood was quiet.
Carter reviewed the case notes while I stared through the windshield. My mind kept returning to the photograph of the woman beside the window.
If she was Victoria, then Vanessa had concealed her for years.
But why?
Money alone didn't explain the lengths to which she had gone. She had been willing to risk exposure, imprisonment, and the collapse of her own carefully constructed life.
There was something more personal beneath the scheme.
Something that connected my father, his hidden daughter, and the woman I had almost married.
When we arrived, the facility's director met us in the reception area.
Her name was Dr. Helen Marsh.
She was in her early sixties, with short gray hair and a calm, professional manner.
“Detective Carter,” she said, shaking his hand. “I understand you're conducting a welfare inquiry.”
“That's correct. We have reason to believe one of your residents may be living under an assumed identity.”
Dr. Marsh's expression barely changed.
“We take patient identification very seriously.”
“We'd like to review the records for a resident named Victoria Vale.”
For the first time, her composure faltered.
Only slightly.
But I saw it.
“I'm afraid we don't have anyone by that name.”
Carter placed the photograph on the desk.
“Then perhaps you can identify this woman.”
Dr. Marsh looked at the image.
Her fingers tightened around the edge of the desk.
“I can't discuss patient information without proper authorization.”
“We're not asking you to disclose medical details. We're asking whether this woman is currently in your care and whether she is safe.”
Dr. Marsh glanced toward a corridor behind her.
The movement was quick.
Almost involuntary.
Carter noticed it too.
“Is there something you'd like to tell us?”
She swallowed.
“I think you should speak to our legal department.”
“Then please contact them.”
While she made the call, I examined the reception area.
A large framed photograph hung above the fireplace. It showed the facility's staff standing outside the building during a summer event.
Near the center stood a man in a dark suit.
His face was partially turned away, but the gold ring on his right hand caught the sunlight.
The man with the black ring.
I pointed toward the photograph.
“Who is that?”
Dr. Marsh turned.
Her face went white.
“That's one of our former consultants.”
“Name?”
“Dr. Mercer.”
Carter stepped closer.
“Is he still employed here?”
“No.”
“When did he leave?”
“About two years ago.”
“Why?”
Dr. Marsh looked down.
“His contract was terminated after an internal review.”
“What kind of review?”
“I can't discuss that without our legal department.”
Carter's voice hardened.
“Dr. Marsh, a man associated with a suspected criminal investigation has attempted to abduct a child and may be connected to the unlawful confinement of a woman. If you have information that could help us protect someone, now is the time to share it.”
She closed her eyes.
Then she whispered, “Room seventeen.”
I felt my heart pound.
“Is the woman in the photograph there?”
Dr. Marsh nodded.
“Her records identify her as Eleanor Vale. She was admitted seven years ago following a reported accident.”
“Who admitted her?”
“A private representative acting under a power of attorney.”
“Name?”
“Victoria Vale.”
Carter stared at her.
“Victoria admitted a woman under the name Eleanor?”
“Yes.”
“Are you certain?”
Dr. Marsh opened a file on her computer.
“The original documents state that Eleanor was the patient's mother. The woman signing the forms claimed to be her daughter.”
My stomach tightened.
“Then the woman in room seventeen may be Victoria.”
Dr. Marsh said nothing.
We followed her down the corridor.
The facility smelled faintly of disinfectant and lavender. Sunlight entered through tall windows, illuminating framed paintings and small arrangements of flowers.
It looked peaceful.
But as we approached room seventeen, I noticed two security cameras facing the doorway.
The other rooms had only one.
Carter stopped.
“Who authorized the additional camera?”
Dr. Marsh looked uncomfortable.
“Dr. Mercer requested enhanced monitoring when the patient was admitted.”
“Why?”
“He said she had a history of wandering and could become disoriented.”
Carter examined the cameras.
“Who has access to the recordings?”
“The administration team and the contracted security provider.”
“Which provider?”
She hesitated.
“Blackthorn Security.”
The same company connected to the man with the black ring.
Carter immediately contacted his team.
Then he nodded toward the door.
“Let's see the patient.”
Dr. Marsh unlocked it.
The woman in the wheelchair turned toward us.
Her eyes moved from Carter to Dr. Marsh, then settled on me.
For several seconds, she stared without speaking.
Then she looked at the photograph in my hand.
A strange expression crossed her face.
“Richard?” she whispered.
My heart stopped.
“My name is Daniel.”
She shook her head.
“No. You're Richard's boy.”
I stepped closer.
“Yes.”
Her hands began to tremble.
“I knew you would come.”
I struggled to speak.
“Are you Victoria?”
She stared at me.
Then tears filled her eyes.
“No.”
She lifted a trembling hand and pointed toward the door.
“I'm Eleanor.”
Carter moved closer.
“Eleanor Vale?”
She nodded.
“I'm Victoria's mother.”
My breath caught.
“Where is Victoria?”
Eleanor began to cry.
“Vanessa took her.”
“Where?”
She gripped the arms of her wheelchair.
“I don't know. She told me Victoria was dead. She told me I had imagined everything.”
I knelt in front of her.
“Eleanor, we're trying to find your daughter. My father was Richard Hayes.”
Her face changed.
For a moment, the confusion seemed to disappear.
“Richard,” she whispered. “He promised he would bring her home.”
I took her hand.
“He tried.”
Eleanor squeezed my fingers.
Then she looked toward the ceiling camera.
Her expression changed from sadness to terror.
“She's watching,” she whispered.
“Who?”
“Vanessa.”
Carter immediately turned toward Dr. Marsh.
“Disconnect the camera system. Now.”
Dr. Marsh hurried to the control panel near the door.
But before she reached it, the lights went out.
A loud alarm sounded throughout the corridor.
Then came the sound of running footsteps.
Carter pulled me away from the window.
“Stay behind me!”
The door slammed shut.
Someone had locked us inside.
May you like
And from the other side, a familiar male voice spoke through the wood.
“Dr. Mercer sends his regards.”
