Chapter 8 - What Madison Heard Through the Wall
“Margaret?”
I stared at Colonel Shaw’s phone.
The call was dead.
“Call her back.”
Shaw immediately tapped the number.
Nothing.
Again.
Straight to voicemail.
Daniel Mercer grabbed the edge of the table.
“That cannot be Margaret.”
“You recognized her voice,” I said.
“I recognized an older woman claiming to be Margaret.”
“That isn't what I asked.”
He looked at me.
“Yes.”
“So she’s alive.”
“I don't know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because twenty-five years ago, Margaret Voss disappeared.”
“And apparently disappearing is something everyone in my family is very good at.”
Commandant Cole took Shaw’s phone.
“Show me the address.”
She opened the message.
The location was in Richmond.
A residential street.
Forty-eight miles away.
The photograph attached to the message showed an old brick house with a narrow porch.
Nothing unusual.
Except one detail.
A woman stood behind an upstairs window.
Only half her face was visible.
Daniel leaned closer.
His breath caught.
“That’s her.”
“Margaret?”
“Yes.”
I looked at him.
“You’re sure?”
“I knew her for almost three years.”
Cole immediately called academy police.
Daniel stopped him.
“No.”
Cole looked up.
“No?”
“If Robert knows where she is, sending marked vehicles could scare him into doing something.”
“Robert is already in custody.”
Daniel’s eyes narrowed.
“Are you certain?”
Cole turned toward the academy officer.
The officer reached for his radio.
I already knew the answer from his expression.
Something was wrong.
Thirty seconds later, he lowered the radio.
“Mr. Hart never reached central processing.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
“The transport vehicle stopped after an officer reported a medical emergency.”
Cole’s voice went cold.
“Where?”
“Route 14.”
“And Robert?”
“Gone.”
I stared at him.
“He escaped?”
“We’re confirming.”
“Confirm faster.”
The officer moved away.
Daniel looked toward the photograph of Margaret’s house.
“He’s going there.”
I hated that I agreed.
Cole pointed toward me.
“You are not.”
“Yes, I am.”
“No.”
“The message specifically says bring Amelia.”
“That is exactly why you're not going.”
I looked at him.
“Are you giving me that order as Commandant?”
His face tightened.
“I'm giving it as someone who doesn't want you walking into a trap.”
“That's not what I asked.”
He went silent.
The laboratory report still sat on the table between us.
Nathaniel James Cole.
One name that had changed everything.
Except Daniel claimed it was false.
Until we found Margaret, I didn't know whether Cole was my biological father, a victim of falsified records, or another man my mother had used as protection.
“Then stop trying to act like my father before we even know whether you are.”
The words hurt him.
I saw it.
But he nodded.
“Fair.”
Daniel picked up his coat.
“I'll go.”
I looked at him.
“So will I.”
Shaw spoke.
“The message said come alone.”
“It also said bring me.”
“That could mean Margaret is being forced.”
“Probably.”
“Which makes going dangerous.”
“Staying here won't make her safer.”
My phone vibrated.
Madison.
I answered.
“Are you okay?”
“No.”
Her voice was shaking.
“What's wrong?”
“Dad escaped.”
I looked at Cole.
“How do you know?”
“Because he called me.”
“When?”
“Thirty seconds ago.”
“What did he say?”
“He told me to forget everything I heard.”
I froze.
“What did you hear?”
Silence.
“Madison?”
“I didn't tell you everything before.”
“About Dad and Claire?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“About Mom.”
My pulse quickened.
“What about her?”
Madison wasn't talking about Diane.
She meant my mother.
Eleanor.
I could hear it in her voice.
“Where are you?”
“At the academy guest center with Mom.”
“Is Claire there?”
“Police took her for questioning.”
“Good. Stay where you are.”
“Amelia.”
“What?”
“Dad had something hidden in the house.”
I looked at Daniel.
“What?”
“The night before graduation.”
My body went still.
“You heard something?”
“I couldn't sleep.”
Madison swallowed.
“Dad and Mom were arguing.”
“Diane?”
“Yes.”
“About what?”
“You.”
Of course.
“Tell me.”
Madison began slowly.
“Mom asked why he cared so much about your graduation ticket.”
I remembered Diane standing under the umbrella.
She had acted like the ticket meant nothing.
Apparently she had known it mattered enough to question him privately.
“What did he say?”
“At first, nothing.”
“And then?”
“He said if you received the medal, the academy would reopen Eleanor's record.”
Cole heard that.
“So he knew about the medal,” I said.
“Yes.”
My stomach turned.
He hadn't stolen the ticket for Madison because he wanted her to have a better seat.
He had taken it because he understood what ticket 001 meant.
He knew my mother’s history could surface.
“He wanted to stop me from graduating.”
“I think so.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“I thought he was being dramatic.”
That sounded like Madison.
Before today, she had spent most of her life believing Dad's version of everything.
“What else?”
“He went into his office.”
“His home office?”
“Yes.”
“I followed him.”
“Why?”
“He scared me.”
Her voice became smaller.
“I've never admitted this, Amelia, but Dad scares me sometimes too.”
Something inside me softened.
For years I had believed Madison had lived on the safe side of our family.
Maybe there had never been one.
“What happened?”
“I stood outside the office.”
“Did he call someone?”
“No.”
“He opened the wall.”
I frowned.
“What wall?”
“Behind Mom’s portrait.”
I stopped.
There was a framed portrait of Eleanor in Dad's office.
The only large photograph of her he had kept.
He never let anyone move it.
“There's something behind it?”
“A safe.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
“What was inside?”
“I couldn't see.”
“But you heard him?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
Madison hesitated.
“He was talking to himself.”
“About what?”
“He said, ‘She was supposed to die with the secret.’”
The room disappeared around me.
Daniel whispered:
“Eleanor.”
Madison continued.
“Then he said something else.”
“What?”
“He said, ‘I should have burned the Hart file when I had the chance.’”
I looked at Cole.
“The Hart file?”
Daniel suddenly turned toward the metal case.
“No.”
“What?”
He moved quickly to the papers.
“The blue file wasn't the only one.”
“How do you know?”
“Eleanor used colors.”
“For what?”
“Different evidence.”
“What color was Hart?”
“Red.”
I stared at him.
“You never mentioned that.”
“I didn't know Robert still had it.”
“What was inside?”
Daniel's expression darkened.
“Everything Eleanor collected on him after the academy investigation.”
“Everything?”
“Financial records. Clinic correspondence. Maintenance logs. Letters.”
Cole stepped closer.
“What letters?”
“Between Robert and the fertility program director.”
My heartbeat increased.
“So Robert knew about the clinic.”
“More than he admitted.”
“Did he order the sample substitution?”
Daniel looked toward Shaw’s phone.
“Margaret can answer that.”
Madison was still listening.
“Amelia?”
“I'm here.”
“There’s more.”
Of course there was.
“What?”
“After Dad left this morning, I opened the safe.”
I almost shouted.
“You what?”
“I knew the combination.”
“How?”
“His birthday.”
Despite everything, that sounded exactly like Dad.
“What did you find?”
“A red folder.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“Do you still have it?”
“No.”
My stomach dropped.
“Where is it?”
“Dad came back.”
“Did he see you?”
“No. I hid in the closet.”
“What did he do?”
“He took the folder.”
That explained what he had been carrying before disappearing from the house.
“Anything else?”
“Yes.”
“I took one page before he came in.”
I gripped the phone.
“What page?”
“I don't know. It looked important.”
“Read it.”
“I can't.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s in my bag at the guest center.”
“Go get it.”
“I already did.”
Paper rustled.
Then Madison became quiet.
“What?”
“This is weird.”
“What does it say?”
“It's a letter.”
“From who?”
“Your mom.”
“To Dad?”
“No.”
“Who?”
Madison paused.
“To Margaret Voss.”
Daniel stepped closer.
“Read it.”
Madison began.
“Margaret, I know what Robert asked you to do. I know why you agreed. I don't blame you.”
She stopped.
“Keep going.”
“I cannot let him believe the substitution worked forever.”
My skin prickled.
Cole looked at me.
Madison continued.
“He thinks Amelia carries the donor DNA he selected.”
I froze.
“The donor he selected?”
Daniel whispered:
“Oh, God.”
“Keep reading.”
“But you and I know the sample was switched a second time.”
Nobody breathed.
A second switch.
Robert had apparently ordered one donor.
Then Margaret and my mother changed it again.
Madison read:
“If Robert ever discovers whose sample you actually used, he will destroy everyone involved.”
My voice barely worked.
“Does it say whose?”
“Wait.”
Paper moved.
“There’s a line at the bottom.”
“What line?”
“It says: ‘The donor code is not a name. It is H-17.’”
Cole looked confused.
Daniel didn't.
His face drained of color.
I noticed immediately.
“You know H-17.”
“No.”
“You do.”
Daniel backed away.
“Amelia—”
“Who was H-17?”
“I need to see the original.”
“Madison, is there anything else?”
“Yes.”
“Read it.”
“‘If anything happens to me, H-17 must never learn Amelia exists.’”
I stared at Daniel.
“Who is H-17?”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
Then he sat down.
“Daniel.”
“Your mother made me promise.”
“She’s dead.”
He flinched.
“I know.”
“So stop protecting a promise that's destroying everything she tried to protect.”
He looked at me.
“H-17 wasn't a cadet.”
“Then who?”
“He was an instructor.”
Cole’s face changed.
“Which instructor?”
Daniel looked at him.
“Think back.”
Cole went still.
“No.”
“What?” I demanded.
Cole walked toward the window.
“Twenty-five years ago, Jefferson had a medical liaison assigned to the experimental program.”
“Name.”
He didn't answer.
“Name.”
“Colonel Thomas Hayes.”
I stopped.
Hayes.
My mother's maiden name.
“Who was Thomas Hayes?”
Cole slowly turned toward me.
“Eleanor's older brother.”
My uncle.
A man no one had ever mentioned.
I felt sick.
“No.”
Daniel stood quickly.
“That is exactly why you cannot assume H-17 means what you think.”
“What else could it mean?”
“Thomas wasn't the donor.”
“But H-17 was his code.”
“Yes.”
“Then explain.”
“Those codes weren't assigned to people.”
“What were they assigned to?”
“Storage containers.”
I stared at him.
“And H-17 contained whose sample?”
Daniel shook his head.
“I never knew.”
“But Margaret did.”
“Yes.”
Which brought us back to Richmond.
To the woman in the upstairs window.
To the message telling us to come alone.
I looked at Cole.
“We go.”
This time he didn't argue.
We didn't go alone.
Not really.
Shaw drove.
I sat beside her.
Cole and Daniel followed in an unmarked academy vehicle while state police stayed several minutes behind us.
No lights.
No sirens.
The closer we got to Richmond, the more impossible the day felt.
That morning, I had wanted one thing.
Graduate.
Walk across the stage.
Maybe hear my father say he was proud.
Now he was a fugitive.
My mother's death was questionable.
My birth certificate was false.
My biological father was unknown.
And an elderly doctor who had disappeared decades earlier might be the only person alive who knew the truth.
We reached the address shortly after sunset.
The brick house looked exactly like the photograph.
No vehicles.
No movement.
Shaw parked across the street.
“Wait.”
“For what?”
“Cole.”
His vehicle stopped behind us.
Daniel got out.
He stared at the house.
“I've been here.”
“When?”
“Twenty-five years ago.”
“Margaret lived here?”
“No.”
“Who did?”
He looked at me.
“Your mother.”
I stared at the house.
“Mom lived here?”
“For three months.”
“When?”
“After she discovered the clinic records.”
I stepped out.
“Why?”
“She was hiding.”
“From Robert?”
“Yes.”
A porch light switched on.
Everyone froze.
The front door opened.
An elderly woman stood there.
Small.
Silver-haired.
She looked directly at me.
“Amelia.”
Daniel whispered:
“Margaret.”
She lifted one hand.
“Come inside.”
We approached carefully.
Margaret looked past me toward Daniel.
Her expression hardened.
“You shouldn't be here.”
Daniel stopped.
“Neither should you.”
“I didn't have a choice.”
“Who sent the message?”
“I did.”
“Why tell us to come alone?”
“Because someone monitors the police frequencies.”
“Robert?”
Margaret looked at me.
“Not Robert.”
My stomach tightened.
“Then who?”
She stepped back.
“Inside.”
The living room contained boxes.
Dozens.
Medical records.
Old photographs.
Cassette tapes.
Margaret closed the curtains.
Then she locked the door.
“I kept everything Eleanor asked me to keep.”
“Why?”
“Because I failed her once.”
“How?”
Margaret looked at my face for a long time.
“By believing Robert.”
She opened a metal box.
Inside were laboratory documents.
One had a red seal.
“Is that the original test?”
“Yes.”
“Then tell me.”
She shook her head.
“You need to understand what H-17 was.”
“I know it was a container.”
“Good.”
“Whose sample was inside?”
Margaret sat down.
“The sample Robert selected was Nathaniel Cole's.”
Cole went pale.
So that explained the false report.
“But you switched it.”
“Yes.”
“With whose?”
Margaret looked toward Daniel.
Daniel wouldn't meet my eyes.
“Margaret.”
She reached for the red-sealed document.
“Your mother chose the second sample.”
“Whose?”
Before she could answer, Madison called.
I almost ignored it.
Then I saw twelve missed calls.
I answered.
“Madison?”
She was crying.
“Amelia, I found another page.”
“What page?”
“It was folded inside Mom's letter.”
“Read it.”
“I already did.”
Her voice shook.
“What does it say?”
“It's not about the clinic.”
“Then what?”
“It’s about Mom's accident.”
Every person in the room went still.
“Madison.”
“The police report Dad kept was altered.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“How do you know?”
“Because Mom had the original.”
“What does it say?”
Madison took a breath.
“There were two people in her car.”
I stopped breathing.
“Who was the second?”
“The report doesn't give a name.”
“Then what does it say?”
“It says the passenger survived.”
Margaret stood so quickly her chair fell backward.
“No.”
Daniel turned toward her.
“What?”
Margaret looked terrified.
“Eleanor was alone when she left me that night.”
Madison whispered through the phone:
“Amelia, there's handwriting at the bottom.”
“Whose?”
“Dad's.”
“What does it say?”
She read the words slowly.
THE PASSENGER MUST NEVER BE FOUND.
Then someone pounded on Margaret's front door.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Margaret stared at it.
Her face went white.
A man's voice came from the other side.
“Amelia.”
Daniel backed away from the window.
Cole reached for his phone.
And Margaret whispered the one sentence none of us expected.
“That isn't Robert.”
The doorknob began to turn.
May you like
Margaret looked at me.
Then she said his name.
