Chapter 4 - THE VOICE ON THE PHONE
Sophie grabbed the phone with both hands.
“Luke!”
“Luke!”
But there was only silence.
Grant took the device gently.
“We heard him.”
“That means he’s alive.”
Sophie was sobbing now.
“They found him.”
Grant pulled her against his chest before he had time to think about it.
She buried her face in his jacket.
The gesture felt terrifyingly natural.
Like something his body remembered from a life he had never been allowed to live.
Owen traced the call.
“It bounced through three internet services.”
“Can you locate it?”
“Not yet.”
Grant called building security.
“No one leaves this floor without my authorization.”
“Send two guards to Sophie.”
Owen looked at him.
“You think Victor could come back?”
“I think I’ve spent fifteen years underestimating the wrong man.”
Marian entered carrying a sealed envelope.
“This came for you.”
“There’s no return address.”
Inside was a photograph.
Claire.
Grant’s hands began shaking.
She was standing beside a hospital bed.
The photograph had been taken recently enough that she looked older than the woman Grant remembered.
But unmistakably alive.
On the back, someone had written four words.
Stop looking for her.
Sophie saw the picture.
Her scream echoed through the office.
“Mommy!”
Grant turned.
“You’re sure?”
“That’s Mommy.”
Sophie pressed the photograph against her chest.
“She’s alive.”
For the first time in seven years, Grant allowed himself to believe it.
Claire had not abandoned him.
She had not vanished into another life.
Someone had stolen her from him.
Then stolen their children.
His grief transformed into something colder.
Purpose.
Owen examined the photograph.
“There’s a medical wristband.”
He enlarged the image.
Part of the facility name was visible.
Saint Augustine Neurological Center.
Marian immediately searched it.
The result surprised everyone.
The center had closed eighteen months earlier.
Grant looked at Owen.
“Where were the patients transferred?”
“Different facilities.”
“We need the patient list.”
“That will take legal authority.”
Grant picked up his phone.
“Then get it.”
Owen watched him.
“You can’t buy your way through medical privacy law.”
“No.”
“But I can find the attorney who knows how to use it correctly.”
Grant stopped.
The attorney he had trusted was now a suspect.
He called a federal litigator named Rachel Monroe instead.
She arrived less than an hour later.
By evening, they learned Saint Augustine’s assets had been purchased by a private healthcare company.
The company was called Halewood Medical Management.
Grant looked at the name.
“Hale.”
Rachel nodded.
“Victor owns thirty-two percent through a holding company.”
Sophie suddenly spoke.
“Mrs. Shaw used that word.”
Everyone turned.
“What word?”
“Halewood.”
“She told Luke if he kept asking about Mom, Halewood would take him.”
Grant looked toward Owen.
“Find every property connected to that company.”
Owen started typing.
There were seventeen.
Clinics.
Nursing homes.
Rehabilitation centers.
One stood out.
A private long-term care facility two hours outside Chicago.
No public website.
No listed patients.
No reviews.
Grant stared at the address.
Rachel frowned.
“What?”
Grant whispered the name of the town.
“Claire grew up there.”
Then Sophie walked toward the photograph.
She pointed to something in the background.
A painting on the wall.
A white farmhouse beside a red windmill.
“I know that picture.”
“Mom drew it for me.”
Grant felt his pulse accelerate.
“That isn’t a random facility.”
Sophie shook her head.
“It’s the place she told me to run if anything ever happened.”
Before anyone could speak, Thomas rushed into the office.
“Sir.”
“There’s a boy downstairs.”
Grant stood.
“What boy?”
May you like
Thomas looked at Sophie.
“He says his name is Luke.”
