Chapter 4 - What Daniel Bennett Knew
Claire read the name three times.
ELENA VALE.
“No.”
Roman’s voice was almost a whisper.
Claire looked at him.
“What does it mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“You said you hate coincidences.”
“I do.”
“Then don’t ignore this because it’s your mother.”
Roman’s jaw tightened.
“I’m not.”
But Claire could see the conflict in his face.
Elena had nearly died.
Claire had saved her.
Now Claire’s dead father had named Elena as part of whatever frightened him before his own death.
Roman picked up the flash drive.
“We watch this somewhere secure.”
“Together.”
He looked at her.
“Yes.”
At the Vale residence, security swept an office before Roman plugged the drive into an isolated laptop.
There were eleven files.
Photos.
Scanned documents.
Audio recordings.
A video.
Roman opened the first photograph.
A medication cabinet.
Vials with handwritten numbers.
Second photograph.
Dr. Reeves speaking to Andrew Pell.
Third.
A younger Elena Vale entering a private clinic.
Claire leaned closer.
“What clinic?”
Roman read the sign in the background.
“Vale Outreach Medical Center.”
“Your family owned it?”
“My mother funded it.”
They opened a document.
Daniel Bennett’s handwritten notes.
Patient reactions after undocumented injections.
Private medical research.
Money transferred through charitable accounts.
Names.
Reeves.
Pell.
Three board members.
And Elena Vale.
Claire’s stomach twisted.
Roman opened the audio file.
Her father’s voice filled the room.
“I’m recording this because the official report keeps disappearing.”
Claire covered her mouth.
Six years.
She had not heard his voice in six years.
Roman looked at her.
“We can stop.”
“No.”
Her eyes burned.
“Play it.”
Daniel continued.
“Dr. Malcolm Reeves has been administering experimental immune-response compounds through private foundation clinics. Patients are not being properly informed. I confronted him tonight.”
Claire gripped the edge of the desk.
“He told me Elena Vale approved the program. I don’t know if that’s true.”
Roman turned toward Claire.
She lifted one finger.
“Keep playing.”
Daniel’s voice continued.
“I contacted Mrs. Vale directly. Her response surprised me. She sounded horrified. She told me she had authorized a vitamin deficiency study, not experimental immune manipulation. She asked me to give her forty-eight hours.”
Claire exhaled.
Roman closed his eyes briefly.
Elena had not been the villain.
At least not knowingly.
The recording continued.
“She believes someone inside her foundation changed the trial documents after she signed them.”
Roman leaned forward.
“Who?”
Daniel answered as if hearing him.
“She gave me one name to watch.”
A pause.
Then static.
The recording ended.
Claire stared.
“That’s it?”
Roman checked.
The file had been cut.
They opened the video.
Daniel appeared sitting inside his parked ambulance.
Tired.
Nervous.
“If anything happens to me, the remaining evidence is in the blue locker at Station Twelve.”
Claire stood.
“Station Twelve.”
Roman paused the video.
“Your father worked there?”
“For years.”
“Does it still exist?”
“Yes.”
Roman called his investigator.
An hour later, they stood inside an abandoned EMS building awaiting demolition.
The blue locker remained.
Rusty.
Dented.
Claire opened it.
Empty.
She almost screamed.
Then Roman pointed.
“Wait.”
Scratched into the inside door were six digits.
Claire photographed them.
“What is it?”
Roman frowned.
“Could be a code.”
Claire stared at the number.
Then remembered.
“My father used to hide things in library books.”
Roman blinked.
“Why?”
“He said nobody steals books.”
The county library archive used six-digit catalogue identifiers.
Roman’s team checked.
413927 corresponded to an old medical ethics textbook donated seven years ago.
The library was closed.
Roman made one phone call.
Twenty minutes later, someone unlocked it.
Claire chose not to ask.
The book was still on the shelf.
Inside the back cover was a memory card taped beneath a strip of paper.
Claire pulled it free.
Roman’s investigator loaded it onto another isolated device.
A spreadsheet opened.
Patient names.
Dosages.
Reactions.
Payment amounts.
Then a column titled SPONSOR.
Most rows contained coded initials.
But one had a full name.
VINCENT VALE.
Roman stopped breathing.
Claire looked at him.
“Who is Vincent?”
“My uncle.”
“Your mother’s brother?”
“My father’s younger brother.”
“Where is he now?”
“Dead.”
“How?”
“Heart attack.”
“When?”
Roman’s eyes remained on the screen.
“Five years ago.”
One year after Claire’s father.
The spreadsheet contained hundreds of thousands of dollars in payments routed from a Vale-controlled shipping company into Reeves’s clinic.
Claire pointed.
“Did your uncle control that company?”
“Yes.”
“So maybe he funded the experiments.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
Roman scrolled lower.
One entry was dated three weeks after Vincent’s death.
Payment authorized.
V. Vale.
Claire stared.
“Dead men don’t authorize payments.”
“No.”
Roman pulled out his phone.
“Unless someone used his credentials.”
His investigator answered.
Roman gave instructions.
Claire kept scrolling.
Another folder appeared.
LEGAL.
Inside was a scanned agreement.
Experimental treatment liability waiver.
Signed by Elena Vale.
Claire zoomed in.
The signature looked like the one on Isabella’s hospital succession document.
Roman saw it.
“Same forgery.”
Claire nodded.
Someone had been using Elena’s identity for years.
Then they found a final file.
A photograph.
Daniel Bennett stood beside Elena in what appeared to be the clinic parking lot.
Between them stood another person.
A young woman.
Maybe thirty.
Dark hair.
Cream blouse.
Roman leaned closer.
Claire looked at him.
“You know her?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
He looked shaken.
“My sister.”
Claire stared.
“I thought Isabella was—”
“Isabella is my cousin.”
“You have a sister?”
“Had.”
Claire waited.
Roman’s voice changed.
“Sofia disappeared seven years ago.”
Claire looked back at the photo.
“Before my father died.”
“Yes.”
“Did police investigate?”
“For years.”
“What happened?”
“They found her car near the river.”
“And her?”
“Never.”
Claire studied Sofia’s face.
On the back of the photograph Daniel had written three words:
SHE KNOWS EVERYTHING.
Roman stepped away from the desk.
For the first time since Claire met him, the powerful Roman Vale looked afraid.
His phone rang.
The investigator spoke quickly.
Roman put the call on speaker.
“We traced the recent payment credentials,” the investigator said. “Someone is still accessing Vincent Vale’s old corporate identity.”
“From where?” Roman asked.
A keyboard clicked.
Then silence.
“Say it.”
The investigator finally answered.
“From a private server registered to Vale House.”
Roman stared toward the hallway.
Claire’s skin prickled.
They were standing inside Vale House.
Then the office lights went out.
May you like
A door opened somewhere upstairs.
And a woman’s voice called Roman’s name.
