Chapter 9 - What They Put in Logan

I took the phone from the floor.

"Mom?"

The line went dead.

I called back.

Nothing.

David grabbed Denise by the coat.

"Where is Vale?"

She smiled through split lips.

"You're late."

"Where?"

"You really thought Catherine was the only person he lied to?"

I shoved David's hand away.

"My mother died of ovarian cancer."

Denise looked at me.

"No."

The word barely came out.

Nathan sat against the tunnel wall.

"Catherine."

I turned.

He looked sick.

"You knew?"

"Not until last year."

I stared.

"Everybody knew my family better than I did."

David said, "Elaine worked compliance for a defense contractor."

"My mother was an accountant."

"Both can be true."

"Stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Turning every memory I have into a cover story."

David flinched.

Good.

I wanted him to.

We moved to a secure Romano property before dawn.

Alessandro joined by encrypted video from the hospital.

David opened Logan's newborn imaging record on an offline laptop.

CT files.

Ultrasound.

Routine infant scans.

Then he showed me metadata fields that looked meaningless.

"These values reconstruct an encryption seed."

"You hid criminal evidence in our baby's medical chart."

"Federal evidence."

"That doesn't make it better."

"I needed somewhere Vale wouldn't delete."

Nathan said, "Hospital archives replicate automatically."

I looked at him.

"Don't help."

David used the metadata to open an encrypted folder.

WINTERS LEDGER.

Transactions appeared.

Federal seizure accounts.

Romano companies.

Hospital supply vendors.

Political PACs.

Millions.

Then an access warning flashed.

REMOTE SESSION DETECTED.

David swore.

"Someone's inside the hospital archive."

A username appeared.

DENISE HARPER.

Denise was supposed to be under guard.

We checked the room.

Empty.

Window open.

Blood on the sill.

Alessandro's guard cursed.

David slammed the laptop shut.

"She went to Vale."

I said, "Then we find Vale."

Nathan looked at me.

"He'll want Logan."

I looked at my sleeping son.

"He's not getting him."

My phone buzzed.

Video call.

Marcus Vale.

I answered.

My mother appeared tied to a chair.

Older.

Gray hair.

Alive.

Then Denise stepped behind her.

Not restrained.

Smiling.

"Hello, Catherine."

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CUT.