Chapter 6 - The Witness Who Knew Too Much
The hospital security footage changed everything.
Naomi's team traced the woman in scrubs to an employee entrance.
She had entered at 6:14 p.m.
Left nineteen minutes later.
No one had identified her at the scene.
The stolen badge belonged to a nurse who had reported it missing that afternoon.
I studied the footage again.
The woman walked calmly.
No visible panic.
No hurried movements.
And she never went directly to Samuel Reed's room.
Instead, she stopped beside a supply cabinet.
Placed a folded paper inside.
Then continued down the corridor.
"Did you recover the paper?" I asked.
Naomi nodded.
"Yes."
She placed a copy in front of me.
It contained six words.
DON'T TRUST THE MAN IN BLUE.
I read them twice.
"Could mean Voss."
"Could mean any law enforcement officer."
"Or a man wearing blue medical scrubs."
Naomi nodded.
"That's why we're not making assumptions."
I looked at the photograph of Evelyn.
"Did she try to enter Reed's room?"
"She approached it, but turned away when a security officer came down the hall."
"Maybe she wanted to speak with him."
"Maybe."
Naomi folded her hands.
"Judge, I need to ask you something difficult."
"Go ahead."
"Did you have any contact with Evelyn Brooks after the fire?"
"No."
"Did your mother?"
"Not that I know."
"Did she ever mention Room Seven?"
I stared at the table.
My mother had been a loving woman.
A stubborn woman.
A woman who never tolerated bullies.
But she also carried secrets.
Some nights, after the Mercy House fire, I heard her crying behind her bedroom door.
She never explained why.
And when I asked about Evelyn, she would only say:
"Some people disappear because someone wants them forgotten."
I had always assumed she meant death.
Now I wasn't certain.
"My mother kept a box of papers," I said.
"Where?"
"In her old house."
"Does anyone live there?"
"My younger brother."
Naomi made a note.
"I'll arrange for an investigator to contact him."
I shook my head.
"Please don't send anyone without explaining the situation."
She looked up.
"Why?"
"Because my brother has two children."
"And?"
I met her eyes.
"Someone knew exactly where I was eating lunch. Someone threatened to kill me. Someone has kept a dead child's identity buried for nearly thirty years."
Naomi went quiet.
"I don't want my family exposed."
She nodded.
"We'll coordinate carefully."
My phone vibrated.
A text from my brother, Marcus.
SIS, SOMEBODY WAS HERE ASKING ABOUT MOM.
I stood immediately.
"What?"
Helen looked at me.
I showed her the message.
Another text arrived.
HE SAID HE WAS FROM THE COURTHOUSE.
I called Marcus.
He answered after the third ring.
"Amara?"
"Where are you?"
"Home."
"Are the kids with you?"
"Yes."
"Lock every door."
Silence.
"What's going on?"
"Marcus, listen to me."
I walked toward the window.
"Who came to the house?"
"A guy in a suit."
"Did he give you a name?"
"Daniel something."
My stomach tightened.
"Daniel what?"
"Rourke."
Naomi looked up sharply.
She had heard the name.
"Did you let him inside?"
"No. He asked whether Mom left any old documents. I told him I didn't know."
"Did he threaten you?"
"No, but he was strange."
"How?"
Marcus hesitated.
"He already knew about the box."
I closed my eyes.
"Where is it?"
"In the attic."
"Don't touch it."
"Amara—"
"Please."
He lowered his voice.
"Are you in trouble?"
I glanced at Helen.
"Not the kind you're imagining."
Outside the conference room, an investigator appeared.
Naomi stepped into the hallway.
When she returned, she looked troubled.
"Amara, Daniel Rourke is a county attorney."
"From Briar County?"
"Yes."
"What else?"
"He represented the nonprofit that managed Mercy House."
I felt cold.
"Was he involved in the original fire?"
"He would have been twenty-three. We don't know."
I looked at my phone.
Marcus sent another message.
I THINK HE'S STILL OUTSIDE.
Then another.
THERE'S A BLACK SUV ACROSS THE STREET.
I showed Naomi.
She immediately called for assistance from the appropriate local agency and requested a coordinated welfare check.
"Tell Marcus to stay inside."
I relayed the instruction.
Then I waited.
Five minutes.
Eight.
Twelve.
Finally, my phone rang.
Marcus.
I answered.
"Are you okay?"
His breathing was rapid.
"The police came."
"Good."
"They're checking the SUV."
"Stay inside."
"Amara."
His voice changed.
"What?"
"Somebody left something on the porch."
I tightened my grip.
"What?"
"A little red ribbon."
For a moment, the room disappeared.
All I could see was Evelyn Brooks standing beside the white fence in 1997.
Her short hair.
Her frightened eyes.
That red ribbon.
Marcus spoke again.
"There's a note attached."
My mouth went dry.
"Read it."
He hesitated.
May you like
Then whispered:
"YOUR MOTHER SAVED ONE CHILD. NOW SAVE THE REST."
