Chapter 5 - Seventeen Minutes Before the Crash
Audrey read the message a third time, hoping the words would rearrange themselves into something less impossible.
They did not.
Your grandfather lied about the night your parents died.
Ask him why your mother called me seventeen minutes before the crash.
Her fingers tightened around the paper.
For twenty-three years, Audrey had known the story of her parents’ deaths by heart.
Rain.
A mountain road.
A late-night drive home.
A truck crossing the center line.
Her father losing control.
The car breaking through a guardrail.
Both of them dead before emergency services arrived.
Audrey had been seven.
Harrison had been the person who told her.
Now she looked at him and saw something she had never expected to see in her grandfather’s eyes.
Fear.
Not grief.
Not anger.
Fear.
“What did my mother say to Evelyn?”
Harrison glanced toward Dominic, Natalie, the federal investigators, and the hospital staff.
“Not here.”
Audrey laughed once.
It sounded broken.
“You’ve said that three times.”
“This concerns your parents.”
“Yes. My parents.”
“Audrey—”
“Seventeen minutes.”
Her voice rose.
“My mother called a woman I was told did not exist seventeen minutes before she died. I think I’ve earned an explanation.”
Harrison’s jaw tightened.
“I never said Evelyn did not exist.”
“You told me my mother was your only child.”
“That was simpler.”
“For whom?”
He had no answer.
Audrey stared at him.
Something fundamental was changing between them.
Harrison had been the fixed point of her childhood.
When nightmares woke her after her parents died, he sat beside her bed.
When she refused to attend school because children whispered about the orphan girl, he drove her there himself.
When she graduated, he sat in the front row.
When she married Dominic, Harrison had kissed her forehead and told her that if she was certain, he would trust her judgment.
Audrey had trusted him with the same certainty.
Until now.
“What happened that night?”
Harrison lowered his voice.
“Your mother called Evelyn because she was frightened.”
“Of what?”
“I don’t know.”
Audrey stared at him.
“That’s a lie.”
Dominic, still several feet away with a security officer beside him, watched the exchange with unsettling interest.
Harrison noticed.
“We will discuss this privately.”
Dominic smiled.
“Family secrets?”
“Do not speak.”
Dominic’s smile widened.
Audrey suddenly understood something.
He was enjoying this.
Every crack between Audrey and Harrison benefited him.
If Harrison became suspicious, Audrey became isolated.
If Audrey doubted Harrison, Dominic could redirect attention away from himself.
She forced herself to breathe.
“Grandfather, we will finish this conversation.”
“Yes.”
“But not because you decide when.”
Harrison’s expression softened.
“Fair.”
Audrey folded Evelyn’s message and placed it in her lap.
The federal investigator stepped closer.
“Mrs. Mercer, may we retain that as evidence?”
Audrey hesitated.
“Evidence of what?”
“That depends on whether Dr. Vale’s disappearance is connected to the medical-device investigation.”
“And my parents?”
“We don’t know.”
She handed him the paper.
The investigator sealed it inside an evidence sleeve.
Then his phone rang.
He walked several feet away to answer.
Audrey turned back toward the NICU.
Chloe’s oxygen saturation remained stable.
95.
The number had become the center of Audrey’s universe.
She watched it until Maria approached.
“The doctor says you can go inside for a few minutes.”
Audrey forgot everything else.
“Now?”
Maria smiled.
“Yes.”
Audrey looked at Harrison.
“Help me.”
He moved behind the wheelchair.
Dominic stepped forward.
“I’m coming.”
Audrey turned.
“No.”
“She’s my daughter.”
“Five minutes ago you wanted to abandon her.”
“I never said that.”
“You called her a runt.”
Dominic glanced toward the federal investigators.
“I was angry.”
“No.”
Audrey’s voice became quiet.
“You were honest.”
His face hardened.
“You can’t keep me from my children.”
“I can keep you away from Chloe until investigators determine how a defective product from your company was manually installed in her respiratory circuit.”
Dominic opened his mouth.
The federal investigator returned.
“I would strongly advise you to follow Mrs. Mercer’s request.”
Dominic stared at him.
Then stepped back.
Audrey entered the NICU without him.
The room was warmer than the corridor.
Quieter too, despite the machines.
Every sound seemed deliberate.
Soft alarms.
Ventilator breaths.
Rubber soles against polished flooring.
Maria wheeled Audrey between the incubators.
Liam lay on the left.
Chloe on the right.
Audrey touched Liam first.
His fingers curled around hers.
“Hello, my brave boy.”
Then Chloe.
Her daughter looked impossibly small beneath the wires.
Audrey slipped one finger through the opening.
Chloe’s hand twitched.
Then closed.
Audrey bowed her head.
“You scared me.”
Tears dropped onto the blanket covering Audrey’s knees.
“Please don’t do that again.”
Maria stood silently behind her.
Audrey studied the respiratory tubing.
The new valve looked almost identical to the one that had failed.
“How can anyone tell them apart?”
“The components?”
“Yes.”
“Usually by manufacturer markings and serial numbers.”
“But visually?”
Maria considered.
“Not easily.”
Audrey’s unease returned.
“If someone wanted to replace one deliberately, would they need medical training?”
Maria’s expression changed.
“To install it correctly?”
“Yes.”
“Probably.”
“Could Dominic do it?”
“I don’t know.”
“He sells them.”
“That doesn’t mean he knows how to install them.”
Audrey looked through the glass.
Dominic stood in the corridor, speaking into his phone.
Then she looked toward Natalie.
Natalie was seated alone.
Her hands covered her face.
Dr. Evelyn Vale was a neonatologist.
Evelyn absolutely would know how to install the valve.
The thought made Audrey cold.
But another question followed.
Why?
Why would her aunt—a woman she had never met—try to harm Chloe?
Revenge against Harrison?
Dominion money?
Something connected to Audrey’s parents?
None of it fit.
Audrey remained with the twins until fatigue began pulling at her body.
Maria touched her shoulder.
“You need rest.”
Audrey wanted to argue.
Instead, she nodded.
As Harrison wheeled her back into the corridor, the federal investigator approached.
“We have preliminary results from the memory card.”
Dominic stopped talking on the phone.
Natalie lifted her head.
Audrey’s pulse quickened.
“You opened it?”
“Our digital team made a forensic copy.”
“And?”
“There are more than eleven thousand files.”
Dominic swore quietly.
The investigator continued.
“Most appear to concern Dominion Medical Solutions. Invoices, supplier correspondence, laboratory data, regulatory records.”
Audrey looked at Dominic.
His attorney had apparently arrived on the phone because he said immediately, “My client will not answer questions.”
The investigator ignored him.
“But there is something else.”
He held up a tablet.
“One folder was encrypted separately.”
Audrey frowned.
“I didn’t encrypt anything.”
“We know.”
“How?”
“The creation date predates the date you copied the files.”
Dominic’s face changed.
Very slightly.
The investigator noticed.
“So the encrypted folder came from Mr. Mercer’s computer.”
“What is it called?” Audrey asked.
The investigator turned the screen.
VALE.
Harrison’s expression hardened.
Audrey felt another wave of unease.
“Can you open it?”
“We’re working on it.”
Dominic’s attorney’s voice came through the phone.
“My client is invoking his right to remain silent.”
Natalie stood abruptly.
“I need to go.”
The second investigator blocked her.
“You said I wasn't detained.”
“You aren't.”
“Then move.”
“We would like your contact information before you leave.”
“You already have it.”
“We would also like the address where you are currently staying.”
Natalie looked toward Dominic.
He did not look back.
Something passed across her face.
Humiliation.
Then anger.
“The Mercer apartment.”
Audrey stared at her.
Natalie met her gaze.
For once, there was no smugness.
Only exhaustion.
“He moved me in three weeks ago.”
Three weeks.
Audrey had been hospitalized twice during those weeks because of pregnancy complications.
While she fought to keep Liam and Chloe inside her body, Natalie had been sleeping in Audrey’s bed.
Audrey felt surprisingly little.
Perhaps there were limits to how much betrayal a person could process at once.
Natalie started toward the elevator.
Then stopped beside Audrey.
“You should ask Dominic where he was the night your parents died.”
Dominic’s head snapped up.
Audrey stared at her.
“What?”
Natalie looked almost frightened by her own words.
“I found something once.”
“Natalie,” Dominic said.
His attorney could be heard ordering him to stop speaking.
Audrey ignored him.
“What did you find?”
“A photograph.”
“Of what?”
“Dominic.”
“That’s impossible. He was twelve when my parents died.”
“I know.”
Audrey’s confusion deepened.
Natalie shook her head.
“Forget it.”
She moved toward the elevator.
Audrey grabbed her wrist.
Pain shot through her abdomen, but she held on.
“Tell me.”
Natalie looked down at Audrey’s hand.
Then toward Dominic.
“It wasn’t the photograph that mattered.”
“What mattered?”
“What was written on the back.”
The corridor became silent again.
Natalie lowered her voice.
“Your mother’s name.”
Audrey released her.
“My mother knew Dominic?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did it say?”
Natalie hesitated.
Then recited the words from memory.
“Catherine says the Mercer boy must never know why he was chosen.”
Audrey stared at Dominic.
For the first time since Harrison arrived, Dominic looked genuinely confused.
“I have never seen that photograph.”
Natalie laughed bitterly.
“It was in your father’s safe.”
“My father is dead.”
“I know.”
Audrey’s thoughts collided.
Dominic rarely spoke about his father, Richard Mercer.
He had described him as an alcoholic who disappeared from his life when Dominic was thirteen.
Audrey had believed Richard died years later in another state.
“What does your father have to do with my mother?”
“Nothing.”
Dominic sounded almost desperate.
“I never met your mother.”
Harrison spoke behind Audrey.
“Richard Mercer.”
His voice was barely audible.
Audrey turned.
“You knew him?”
Harrison’s face answered before he did.
“Yes.”
Dominic stopped breathing.
“What?”
Harrison stared at him.
“I knew your father.”
Dominic slowly lowered the phone.
“That’s impossible.”
“No.”
“How?”
Harrison looked suddenly exhausted.
“Richard Mercer worked for Vale Health.”
Audrey felt the air leave her lungs.
“What did he do?”
Harrison did not answer immediately.
Dominic stepped forward despite the security officer.
“What did my father do for you?”
Harrison’s eyes stayed on him.
“He was head of corporate security.”
Nobody spoke.
Audrey’s skin prickled.
Her parents had died in a suspicious crash.
Her mother had called Evelyn seventeen minutes earlier.
Dominic’s father had run security for Harrison.
And now Dominic had married Harrison’s granddaughter without supposedly knowing any of it.
Too many coincidences.
The federal investigator’s phone vibrated.
He checked the screen.
His expression changed.
“Our team opened the encrypted VALE folder.”
Dominic turned pale.
“What’s inside?” Audrey asked.
The investigator looked at her.
“Surveillance.”
“Of whom?”
“You.”
Audrey felt cold.
“How long?”
He scrolled.
Then looked up.
“Twenty-three years.”
Harrison gripped the back of Audrey’s wheelchair.
The investigator continued.
“School photographs. Medical records. Addresses. University schedules. Travel records.”
Audrey could barely hear him.
“There are files on your relationship with Dominic beginning before your first date.”
She turned toward her husband.
Dominic looked horrified.
Not guilty.
Horrified.
“I didn’t make those.”
The investigator studied him.
“I believe you.”
Everyone went still.
Audrey whispered, “Why?”
“Because the oldest digital records in the folder were created when you were seven years old.”
He swiped to another file.
“And there’s one document we think you need to see.”
He handed Audrey the tablet.
It was a scanned letter.
Twenty-three years old.
Signed by Richard Mercer.
Dominic’s father.
Audrey read the first line.
Then the second.
Her hands began shaking.
SUBJECT: AUDREY VALE — LONG-TERM PROTECTION PROTOCOL.
Beneath it was a handwritten instruction.
If Catherine and Thomas are killed, the girl must never learn who ordered the surveillance.
Audrey looked up at Harrison.
But the final line was worse.
Much worse.
Because beneath Richard Mercer’s signature was a second authorization.
EVELYN VALE.
And beside her name was a single handwritten sentence:
Dominic may be useful when they are older.