Chapter 9 - Blackwood
Blackwood Behavioral Center sat ninety miles outside Charlotte.
Publicly, it specialized in private psychiatric treatment for wealthy clients.
Privately, the Prescott Foundation owned the land beneath it.
Agent Brooks did not rush there.
She moved carefully.
Warrants.
Coordination.
Medical oversight.
Documentation.
The Prescotts had survived for years because people cut corners when confronting them.
Brooks refused to give their attorneys that advantage.
By evening, federal agents and state investigators entered Blackwood.
Charles Prescott was found in a locked private wing.
Alive.
Sedated.
He had been admitted under another name.
No legitimate commitment paperwork could initially be produced.
A second room showed recent occupancy.
The sheets were warm.
The patient chart identified the woman as Sarah Miller.
The photograph in the chart belonged to Samantha Reed.
She was gone.
Again.
Security footage from Blackwood had been erased fifteen minutes before investigators arrived.
Brandon stared at the floor when Brooks told him.
"My mother knew."
"How?" Brooks asked.
"I don't know."
"Who knew you told us about Blackwood?"
Brandon looked at Rachel.
"Only everyone in that conference room."
The implication sat heavily between us.
There was still a leak close to the investigation.
Brooks quietly began compartmentalizing information.
Even I was no longer told operational details.
That was fine.
My job was not to run the investigation.
My job was to keep Emily alive and remind her she was not alone.
That night she finally slept for nearly four hours.
I sat beside the window watching Charlotte's lights.
At 2:13 a.m., someone slipped an envelope under the hospital-room door.
Security cameras showed no person.
Only a brief distortion in the image.
Inside was a photograph.
Samantha Reed.
Alive.
Standing beside a newspaper from that morning.
On the back were six words.
STOP LOOKING OR SHE STOPS BREATHING.
Emily woke when she heard Rachel enter.
She saw the photograph.
Her face crumpled.
"They're using her because of me."
"No," I said.
"They are using her because they are losing control."
Rachel agreed.
"The photograph is proof Samantha is valuable to them."
Emily studied the picture.
Then she pointed.
"Wait."
Samantha was holding the newspaper strangely.
Three fingers behind it.
Two visible.
Then three.
Then one.
It looked accidental.
But Emily shook her head.
"She used to teach me sign language."
"Why?"
"Samantha's younger brother was deaf."
Emily stared carefully.
"She's signing numbers."
Three.
Two.
Three.
One.
Calvin searched the card for 3231.
Nothing.
Then Emily remembered.
"The estate has numbered wine lockers."
Locker 3231.
Agent Brooks was informed.
A warrant team entered the Prescott estate before dawn.
The wine cellar appeared ordinary.
Locker 3231 contained no wine.
Behind the wooden rack was a hidden compartment.
Inside were two phones.
A passport.
A stack of cash.
And a handwritten notebook belonging to Samantha.
The final page contained one sentence.
IF THEY FIND RUN, LOOK FOR THE GIRL IN RED.
Beneath the sentence was a photograph of a charity gala.
Dozens of people filled the frame.
One young woman wore a red dress.
Claire Watkins looked at the image through a secure video call.
Her face went white.
"I know her."
Rachel leaned closer.
"Who is she?"
Claire answered.
"She's the woman Captain Monroe brought into Mercy General last year."
Emily frowned.
"What happened to her?"
May you like
Claire looked sick.
"They said she died."
