Chapter 4 - The Woman in the Parking Garage
I ripped the IV from my arm.
The monitor screamed.
A nurse rushed in.
“Mrs. Bennett!”
“My sister is here.”
“You cannot leave.”
I was already pulling on the clothes police had brought from evidence intake.
Megan appeared at the doorway.
“Claire.”
“They photographed Rachel outside this hospital.”
“I know.”
“Then she could still be here.”
“Security is locking down the entrances.”
I pushed past her.
Megan grabbed my shoulders.
“Listen to me.”
“No.”
“Claire!”
“My sister came here because of me!”
“And whoever took her phone wants you running around scared.”
That stopped me.
Megan lowered her voice.
“This is what Eric does. He makes people panic, then controls where they go.”
I stared at her.
“Then what do we do?”
“We stop letting him choose.”
Hospital security searched every floor.
Police checked parking structures.
I stayed beside Megan in the security office while footage rolled across six monitors.
Then a guard pointed.
“There.”
Rachel appeared on camera.
She wore jeans and my father’s old Northwestern sweatshirt.
She entered the parking garage at 8:14 that morning.
I leaned closer.
“Keep going.”
At 8:16, Evelyn Bennett appeared behind her.
Eric’s mother wore a cream coat and carried a handbag.
She approached Rachel.
They spoke.
Rachel stepped backward.
Then Evelyn held out something.
A phone.
Rachel looked at the screen.
Her face changed.
“What did she show her?” I whispered.
Nobody knew.
Rachel followed Evelyn toward the stairwell.
They disappeared.
Another camera picked them up on level four.
Then level five.
Finally, they entered an elevator.
The elevator camera showed Evelyn pressing B2.
“Basement parking,” the guard said.
The doors opened.
Both women stepped out.
Then the image froze.
“Why did it stop?” Megan asked.
“That camera went offline at 8:19.”
“Accident?”
The guard shook his head.
“Someone disconnected it manually.”
Police rushed to B2.
I couldn’t stay behind.
This time Megan didn’t stop me.
We followed two officers down a service corridor.
At the far end stood a maintenance room.
Its lock had been broken.
Inside, we found Rachel’s sweatshirt.
I grabbed it.
“Rachel!”
No answer.
Megan pointed toward an emergency exit.
The alarm wiring had been cut.
Outside was a narrow loading lane.
Tire marks disappeared toward the street.
Evelyn had moved her.
Again.
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
Megan gestured for everyone to stay quiet.
I answered.
“Hello?”
Rachel whispered, “Claire?”
I nearly collapsed.
“Rachel!”
“Don’t say my name.”
“Where are you?”
“I don’t know.”
Her voice shook.
“I’m in a car.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
Someone shouted faintly near her.
Rachel lowered her voice.
“Eric’s mother said you ruined everything.”
“Rachel, listen to me. The police are tracing this.”
“I know.”
“Can you see anything?”
“Trees. Highway.”
“Signs?”
A pause.
“There was a sign for Lake Hartwell Road.”
Megan wrote it down immediately.
Rachel began crying.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“I believed him.”
“Rachel—”
“Eric showed me videos of you screaming. He said you were unstable.”
“He edited them.”
“I know that now.”
“You couldn’t know.”
“I signed something.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
“He told me it was permission for emergency treatment if you had another episode.”
I closed my eyes.
“Rachel.”
“I didn’t read it.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it isn’t.”
Her voice cracked.
“I helped him.”
“You were manipulated.”
“He said you’d hurt yourself if I didn’t cooperate.”
I looked at Megan.
She had tears in her eyes.
This was how Eric built prisons without walls.
Fear.
Shame.
Family members turned against each other.
Rachel suddenly whispered, “She’s coming back.”
“Keep the phone hidden.”
“I stole it from her bag.”
“Good.”
“Claire?”
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
The line went silent.
Police traced the call to a rural area near Lake Hartwell Road.
Within minutes, patrol units converged.
Megan and I were ordered back upstairs.
I paced until Ruiz called.
“We found the car.”
“And Rachel?”
“Alive.”
I dropped into a chair.
My whole body shook.
“Evelyn?”
“Gone.”
“How?”
“She abandoned the car near an old farm and ran before officers arrived.”
“Rachel is safe?”
“Yes.”
Twenty-five minutes later, my sister ran into my hospital room.
I barely recognized the sound that came from me.
We collided.
Rachel wrapped both arms around me.
“I’m sorry.”
I held her tighter.
“Stop.”
“I believed him.”
“Stop.”
“I signed those papers.”
“Rachel, stop.”
She looked at me.
Tears covered her face.
“You came looking for me.”
“You’re my sister.”
“I failed you.”
“No.”
I took her face in my hands.
“He lied to both of us.”
Rachel shook her head.
“There’s more.”
She reached inside her pocket.
“I took this from Evelyn’s bag.”
It was a small blue flash drive.
Megan called Ruiz.
A forensic technician arrived.
We waited while he opened the drive on an isolated computer.
Folders filled the screen.
CLAIRE.
LAURA.
FINANCIAL.
MEDICAL.
DISAPPEARANCE.
Then one folder stopped my breathing.
FINAL CLIENT LIST.
The technician opened it.
There were eleven women’s names.
Laura.
Me.
And nine strangers.
Beside several names was one word.
COMPLETED.
Beside mine:
PENDING.
Then Rachel pointed toward the bottom.
“What does that mean?”
There was one final name.
It wasn’t a woman.
It was my late father.
THOMAS MORGAN.
Beside his name were the words:
ORIGINAL TARGET — SUCCESSFUL.
May you like
My father had died four years earlier.
And suddenly I was no longer sure his death had been natural.
