Chapter 4 - The Voice From Seven Years Ago
For several seconds, neither of them spoke.
Chicago streaked past the SUV windows in silver and black.
Lena stared at the handwriting again.
FIND ISABELLA MORETTI.
“Your mother is dead.”
Adrian looked away.
“Yes.”
“Then why would my father write this?”
“I don't know.”
“You said he translated her last conversation.”
“He did.”
“With whom?”
Adrian's jaw tightened.
“My father.”
Lena waited.
Adrian didn't continue.
“That's not everything.”
“No.”
“Then tell me.”
Adrian looked at her.
“My mother was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer eight years ago. She had surgery at St. Catherine's. Complications followed. Seven months later, she died.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don't be.”
Lena frowned.
Adrian looked through the window.
“She wasn't supposed to die that night.”
Something in his voice changed.
“She was stable.”
“What happened?”
“She requested a private meeting with my father. Gabriel interpreted because one of her physicians spoke limited English.”
“Which physician?”
“Dr. Elise Brenner.”
Lena's eyes widened.
“The woman at dinner?”
“Yes.”
Lena felt suddenly cold.
Adrian continued.
“My mother died three hours after that meeting.”
“And you think someone killed her?”
“I know someone lied about what happened.”
The SUV turned sharply.
Adrian's security chief called.
They had reached the rehabilitation center first.
Gabriel Ortiz was gone.
A wheelchair had been found beside a service exit.
There was blood on one armrest.
Lena covered her mouth.
Adrian immediately took her hand.
She looked down.
He seemed surprised by his own gesture.
But he didn't release her.
“We'll find him.”
“You don't know that.”
“No.”
The answer was quiet.
“But whoever took him made a mistake.”
“What?”
“They moved after seeing the notebook.”
Lena looked at him.
“They're scared.”
“Exactly.”
The SUV stopped.
They entered the rehabilitation center through a side entrance.
Staff members were gathered near the nurses' station.
Adrian's security team controlled the hallways.
Lena rushed into her father's room.
Empty bed.
Blanket on the floor.
His glasses crushed near the door.
She picked them up.
Her father couldn't read without them.
Her chest tightened.
On the bedside table was the framed photograph she had brought him last Christmas.
Gabriel and Lena at Navy Pier.
Before the stroke.
Before everything fell apart.
Adrian stood quietly behind her.
“I should have listened.”
“To what?”
“He tried to tell me something.”
“When?”
“The night before his stroke.”
She sat on the edge of the bed.
“He kept saying ‘wrong words.’ I thought he was tired.”
Adrian crouched in front of her.
“What exactly did he say?”
“Wrong words. Wrong medicine. Same paper.”
Adrian's expression changed.
“Same paper?”
“Yes.”
“Did he mention my mother?”
“No.”
“Victor?”
Lena shook her head.
Then remembered.
“He said ‘bridge.’”
“HaleBridge.”
“I thought he meant a physical bridge.”
Adrian stood.
“We need to read that memory card.”
They moved into the rehabilitation director's office.
Adrian's security specialist produced a laptop that wasn't connected to the internet.
Lena inserted the card.
One folder appeared.
ISABELLA.
Inside were twelve audio files.
Seven years old.
Lena clicked the first.
Static.
Then her father's voice.
“This recording is being made because the patient requested independent documentation.”
Another voice followed.
Female.
Weak.
But controlled.
Isabella Moretti.
“I want my sons to know I was awake when I signed nothing.”
Adrian froze.
Lena looked at him.
His face had become completely still.
The recording continued.
Dr. Brenner spoke.
“Mrs. Moretti, nobody is asking you to sign anything.”
Isabella replied.
“Victor is.”
Lena's fingers tightened around the laptop.
Adrian stared at the screen.
Victor Hale.
Seven years ago.
Another voice entered.
Male.
“This conversation is over.”
Adrian whispered.
“My father.”
The recording cut off.
Lena opened the second file.
Gabriel spoke quickly.
“Mrs. Moretti believes someone is altering translated consent documents connected to experimental drug trials.”
Adrian closed his eyes.
The audio continued.
“She asked me to compare the Italian originals against the English hospital records.”
Paper rustled.
Then Isabella spoke.
“They're changing what patients agreed to.”
Dr. Brenner responded.
“You don't understand the clinical terminology.”
“I understand signatures.”
Silence.
Then Isabella said something that made Adrian stand.
“My husband owns part of the company.”
Lena paused the recording.
Adrian looked sick.
“Your father owned HaleBridge?”
“Not officially.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means my father financed Victor when HaleBridge was created.”
Lena stared at him.
“So your family helped build it.”
“Yes.”
“And my father discovered they were falsifying medical translations.”
“Apparently.”
Lena stood.
“Your family destroyed mine.”
Adrian looked at her.
“You don't know that.”
“My father lost his career. I lost mine. Now he's been kidnapped.”
“And my mother died.”
The words stopped her.
Adrian's voice was low.
“Whatever happened, Lena, neither of us knows the whole story.”
A knock interrupted them.
Adrian's security chief entered.
“We found the vehicle.”
“Where?”
“South Side. Abandoned.”
“Gabriel?”
“No.”
Lena's hope collapsed.
“But we recovered traffic-camera footage.”
He placed a tablet on the desk.
The video showed a dark van leaving the rehabilitation center.
At an intersection, the passenger turned toward the window.
Martin Shaw.
Lena stared at the image.
“That's him.”
Adrian nodded.
Then the security chief swiped to another photograph.
The van entered an underground garage.
A private medical building.
The building belonged to HaleBridge.
Adrian picked up his coat.
“We're going.”
Lena grabbed his arm.
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
“He's my father.”
“Exactly.”
“Don't tell me to stay behind.”
Adrian looked at her.
Then nodded once.
“Stay beside me.”
They left.
Twenty minutes later, three vehicles stopped across from HaleBridge's downtown medical facility.
The building was dark except for the fourth floor.
Adrian's men entered first.
No guards.
No reception staff.
Nothing.
Too easy.
Adrian hated easy.
They reached the fourth floor.
A door stood open.
Inside was an examination room.
Empty wheelchair.
Medical restraints.
Fresh blood.
Lena rushed forward.
“Dad?”
Nothing.
On the wall was a monitor.
Suddenly it turned on.
Victor Hale appeared on-screen.
He was smiling.
“Adrian.”
Adrian stopped.
Victor continued.
“I wondered how long it would take.”
“Where's Gabriel?”
“Safe.”
Lena stepped forward.
“Let me see him.”
Victor's smile widened.
“Hello, Lena.”
“Where is my father?”
“He's been carrying something that belongs to me for seven years.”
“The recordings?”
“Those belong to the dead.”
Adrian moved closer to the screen.
“You have thirty seconds to tell me where he is.”
Victor laughed.
“You still think this is about Gabriel?”
Adrian's eyes narrowed.
Victor leaned toward the camera.
“Ask Lena what else was hidden inside that notebook.”
Lena froze.
Adrian looked at her.
“I showed you everything.”
Victor shook his head.
“No, you didn't.”
Then another camera feed appeared.
Gabriel Ortiz sat strapped to a chair.
Alive.
Lena gasped.
“Dad!”
Gabriel lifted his head.
His mouth moved.
No sound came out.
Victor appeared beside him.
In his hand was a photograph.
He held it toward the camera.
It showed Isabella Moretti standing beside Gabriel Ortiz seven years earlier.
Between them was a young boy.
Adrian stared.
He knew the boy.
It was his younger brother, Luca.
Victor smiled.
May you like
“Now ask yourself why Isabella Moretti secretly met Gabriel Ortiz three days before she died.”
Then the screen went black.
