Chapter 8: The Room With No Windows
Smoke poured from the corridor.
People shouted.
Doors slammed.
The alarm lights flashed red against the walls.
A nurse grabbed my wheelchair.
“Mrs. Mercer, we have to evacuate.””
“My daughter—”
“We'll find her.””
“No.””
I grabbed her wrist.
“My daughter is somewhere in this hospital.””
The nurse looked at Luke.
He was staring at the smoke.
“Where did it start?”” he asked.
“Sixth floor.””
His face changed.
“That's where they took her.””
The nurse manager shouted across the hallway.
“Everyone out!””
Police officers began moving patients toward the stairwell.
Luke tried to follow me.
I blocked him.
“Stay away from me.””
“Claire, listen.””
“No.””
“Your daughter is alive.””
“You don't know that.””
“I do.””
“Then prove it.””
He reached into his pocket.
His hands were shaking.
He pulled out a small envelope.
“I found this in my father's office.””
I didn't take it.
“What is it?””
“DNA results.””
My heart pounded.
“For June?””
He nodded.
“Before she was born.””
I stared at him.
“How could you have DNA results before she was born?””
His eyes filled with tears.
“Because they tested the cord blood from your prenatal procedure.””
I remembered it.
The genetic screening at twenty weeks.
Luke had insisted on attending.
I'd thought it was sweet.
“You gave them my baby's sample.””
“I didn't know what they were doing.””
“You always know more than you admit.””
He looked away.
The smoke grew thicker.
A police officer yelled, “Move!””
I took the envelope.
Inside was a single page.
I read the result.
*Infant: Female.*
*Genetic relationship: 99.98% match to maternal line.*
Then I saw the name.
Not Claire Mercer.
Not June Mercer.
*Rachel Hale.*
I looked up.
Rachel was standing behind Luke.
Her face was white.
“That's impossible.””
I held the paper toward her.
“You tell me.””
She stared at it.
“I never gave them my DNA.””
Luke whispered, “You did.””
“No.””
“You gave blood at the clinic.””
“For my own tests.””
“They used it.””
Rachel shook her head.
“They said it was for anemia.””
I looked between them.
“Why would your DNA match my daughter?””
Neither answered.
Then the old man spoke.
“Because June isn't Claire's biological daughter.””
My stomach dropped.
I looked at Luke.
“Tell me he's lying.””
Luke didn't speak.
“Luke.””
He looked at me.
“I didn't know.””
The words barely came out.
“I swear.””
I felt the floor disappear beneath me.
“Then whose baby did I carry?””
Before he could answer, the fire doors slammed shut.
Rachel grabbed my shoulder.
“We need to get out.””
“No.””
“Claire!””
“I want the truth.””
“You can have it later.””
“My daughter is missing!””
Rachel leaned closer.
“Your daughter is not the only child missing.””
“What?””
She looked toward the stairwell.
“Ava.””
The nurse manager rushed toward us.
“We've lost contact with the sixth floor.””
I stared at her.
“What does that mean?””
“No one is answering.””
“Send the police.””
“They're already there.””
Then a police officer came running down the stairs.
“Officer!””
He was coughing.
“There is no fire on six.””
The nurse manager frowned.
“What?””
“The alarm was triggered remotely.””
Luke looked at his father.
“You did this.””
The old man smiled.
“Not me.””
Luke froze.
A loud crash came from the floor above.
Then another.
Someone screamed.
The police officers moved toward the stairs.
Luke suddenly grabbed my wheelchair.
“Move.””
“Don't touch me.””
“Claire, the alarm is a distraction.””
“For what?””
“To clear the maternity wing.””
I stared at him.
“Why?””
He looked toward the nursery.
My heart stopped.
“The babies.””
We rushed back.
The nursery doors were open.
Empty.
Every bassinet was gone.
The nurse manager stumbled backward.
“No.””
I couldn't breathe.
“How many?””
“Six.””
“Six babies?””
She nodded.
“Six.””
Luke whispered,
“This wasn't about June.””
I stared at him.
“What?””
He pointed toward the empty nursery.
“They needed six infants.””
Rachel looked horrified.
“For what?””
Luke didn't answer.
The old man did.
“A clinical trial.””
I turned.
“You're using babies in a clinical trial?””
“No.””
His expression remained calm.
“The trial already exists.””
My stomach turned.
“Who is running it?””
He smiled.
“Your father.””
I froze.
“My father is dead.””
The old man laughed.
“So was I.””
For the first time that night, I realized the dead people in our family seemed to have a habit of returning.
Then a nurse rushed into the room.
“Mrs. Mercer!””
“What?””
“We found something.””
She held up a tiny pink blanket.
My blanket.
The one I had chosen months ago.
The one June had been wrapped in.
There was blood on it.
I reached for it.
My fingers shook.
“Where did you find this?””
“On the sixth floor.””
Luke looked at the blanket.
Then his face changed.
“There was a camera.””
“What?””
“In the nursery.””
He grabbed the nurse manager's tablet.
“Show me the security feed.””
She opened it.
The screen displayed the hallway outside the nursery.
Timestamp: 9:17 p.m.
The nurse with the tattoo appeared.
She pushed a bassinet toward the elevator.
Then someone stepped into view.
I couldn't see his face.
But I recognized his clothes.
Gray coat.
Black shoes.
A silver watch.
Luke whispered,
“No.””
I looked at him.
“Who?””
He pointed at the screen.
“My father.””
The old man was standing beside us.
But on the screen, he was standing in the hallway.
At the exact same time.
I looked between the two images.
One old man.
Two places.
Then the security feed flickered.
The figure on the screen turned toward the camera.
His face was visible.
It wasn't Luke's father.
It was Luke.
I stopped breathing.
Luke stared at the screen.
“I wasn't there.””
The image zoomed in.
The man on the screen smiled.
Then he held up his hand.
On his finger was Luke's wedding ring.
The video cut to black.
And my phone buzzed.
A message appeared.
*Now you know why we needed your baby.*
Underneath it was a photograph.
June.
Alive.
She was lying in a hospital incubator.
May you like
And beside her stood a woman I recognized.
My own mother.
