Chapter 6 - THE WOMAN IN THE VIDEO
We spent the next twelve hours moving between safe houses.
Michael remained missing.
His face appeared on the local news.
The story called him a dangerous fugitive.
But the police still didn't know where he was.
I did.
At least, I thought I did.
Because Michael always returned to one place when he was frightened.
His father's old office.
It was abandoned.
Or supposed to be.
Detective Brooks found a hidden entrance behind a bookshelf.
Inside was a room filled with monitors.
Dozens of them.
One screen showed my old kitchen.
Another showed the hallway.
Another showed the bedroom.
Michael had cameras everywhere.
Then one screen flickered.
A video began playing.
A woman appeared.
She looked about thirty.
She was sitting in a chair.
Terrified.
"I don't know why you're recording this."
The video cut.
Another woman.
Then another.
All of them had been filmed by Michael.
But there was something different.
They weren't being tattooed.
They were being asked questions.
"Do you know Sarah Miller?"
"Have you ever met Daniel Carter?"
"Did anyone from Carter Medical contact you?"
My stomach tightened.
These women weren't random victims.
They were connected to the same medical program.
Detective Brooks rewound the footage.
One woman caught my attention.
She looked directly into the camera.
"If Sarah ever sees this, tell her..."
The video ended.
"Tell her what?" I whispered.
We searched the room.
Behind the desk was a hidden drawer.
Inside was a flash drive.
Detective Brooks opened it.
There was only one file.
Sarah_Final.mp4.
She clicked it.
Michael appeared on screen.
He looked exhausted.
Not the confident man from my kitchen.
This Michael looked scared.
"If you're watching this, Sarah, then everything has gone wrong."
I hated hearing his voice.
But I couldn't look away.
"I never wanted to hurt you."
I laughed bitterly.
The detective kept watching.
"My father told me you were dangerous."
Michael paused.
"I believed him."
Then he leaned closer to the camera.
"But after I married you, I realized something."
He looked down.
"You weren't dangerous."
He swallowed.
"You were valuable."
My stomach turned.
"Your blood reacts to a compound my father developed."
The detective stopped the video.
"What compound?"
"I don't know."
She restarted it.
Michael continued.
"The ink was designed to identify people with the same biological marker."
I looked at my arm.
The tattoos suddenly seemed different.
They weren't just humiliations.
They were tests.
Michael had been trying to determine whether I was the person his father had been searching for.
Then he said the sentence that changed everything.
"You are not the only person with the marker."
The screen went black.
A second file appeared.
A photograph.
My unborn baby's medical chart.
Someone had already accessed it.
The baby's name wasn't Sarah's.
It wasn't Michael's.
It was simply labeled:
May you like
C-17.
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