Chapter 4 - THE RECORDS THEY BURIED
Daniel's father's medical files were missing.
Not misplaced.
Missing.
The hospital where he had been treated had closed years earlier.
Records had supposedly been transferred.
They weren't.
Someone had taken them.
Daniel hired a private investigator.
I helped.
Not because I trusted him.
Because Jonah deserved answers.
The investigator found a doctor.
Dr. Samuel Whitman.
He had treated Daniel's father thirty years earlier.
We found him living in a small town outside Charlottesville.
He agreed to speak.
But only with Daniel and me.
He looked at us.
“Your father knew he carried the mutation.”
Daniel stared.
“Why didn't he tell me?”
“He believed knowledge would destroy your future.”
“That makes no sense.”
“He was terrified.”
“Of what?”
“The company.”
I frowned.
“What company?”
Whitman looked at me.
“Your family's pharmaceutical business.”
Daniel went still.
His father had owned a medical technology company.
It had eventually become part of Daniel's current corporation.
Whitman continued.
“They were experimenting with gene therapy.”
“For the disease?”
“Yes.”
“Illegal?”
“Not initially.”
“What happened?”
“They discovered a treatment using bone marrow.”
Daniel's face changed.
“That's why Tyler needs Jonah.”
“Yes.”
“But why were records hidden?”
Whitman looked down.
“The treatment failed.”
“How?”
“The genetic markers were unstable.”
Daniel swallowed.
“Did they test it on children?”
Whitman said nothing.
That silence was enough.
I felt sick.
“Who?”
“Patients whose parents had no alternatives.”
“You're saying children were used in medical trials?”
Whitman nodded.
“Tyler's mother was approached.”
“Erin?”
“Yes.”
I looked at Daniel.
He hadn't known.
Or maybe he had.
I wasn't sure anymore.
Whitman handed us a folder.
“This is what survived.”
Inside were trial records.
Patient names.
Dates.
Outcomes.
Twenty-four children.
Seven survived.
Three developed complications.
Fourteen died.
One of the survivors was Tyler.
Another was Jonah.
Except Jonah had never been enrolled.
We stared at the name.
“That's impossible.”
Whitman shook his head.
“Not enrolled.”
“Then why is his name here?”
“Because the trial used family DNA.”
I felt sick.
“Someone tested Jonah without our permission.”
Daniel's face hardened.
“Who?”
Whitman pointed to the last page.
A signature.
Daniel's uncle.
Richard Hale.
Daniel stared.
“My uncle died ten years ago.”
“His name keeps appearing.”
We searched further.
Richard had controlled the family company after Daniel's father's death.
He had also handled the medical records.
He knew about the mutation.
He knew about Tyler.
And he knew about Jonah.
But Richard couldn't be the person currently manipulating records.
He was dead.
Unless he had left someone behind.
The investigator found a name.
Evan Hale.
Daniel's cousin.
Richard's son.
We found Evan in New York.
He admitted everything.
Not proudly.
He was terrified.
“My father believed the treatment could make us rich.”
“How?”
“If the therapy worked, we would control the patent.”
“And the children?”
“They were data.”
I felt nauseated.
“Tyler.”
“An accident.”
“What?”
“He wasn't supposed to survive.”
Daniel stepped forward.
“What about Jonah?”
Evan swallowed.
“Your father kept his DNA in the archive.”
“Why?”
“Because the genetic line was strong.”
I could barely breathe.
“They planned to use my son.”
“Yes.”
“Without my knowledge.”
“Yes.”
Daniel looked sick.
“What about the transplant?”
Evan stared.
“That is why Tyler was kept alive.”
I felt a cold chill.
“They needed a compatible donor.”
“Yes.”
Jonah wasn't simply helping Tyler.
His existence had always been part of the plan.
Daniel's voice became dangerous.
“Who knew?”
Evan lowered his head.
“My father.”
“Who else?”
“The doctors.”
“Anyone alive?”
“One.”
“Who?”
“Dr. Nathan Mercer.”
Daniel froze.
I knew the name.
He was the physician who had supervised Tyler's treatment.
He had also been the doctor who first told us Jonah was a close match.
We left immediately.
At the hospital, Nathan was gone.
His office had been emptied.
The files were missing.
Then a nurse found something.
A note.
You should never have looked.
I looked at Daniel.
“This is bigger than the transplant.”
He nodded.
A second note was found in Jonah's room.
For Claire.
I opened it.
You think you are protecting your son.
You are only giving us exactly what we need.
Below it was one sentence.
If you want Jonah alive, stop asking questions.
My hands shook.
Daniel took the note.
His face became cold.
“No.”
“What?”
“I'm not letting them win.”
He looked toward the ICU.
“Not this time.”
That night, Jonah woke.
He saw our faces.
“What happened?”
I sat beside him.
“There's something you need to know.”
He listened.
I told him about the trial.
The records.
The mutation.
The possibility that his DNA had been collected without our consent.
He stared.
“So Tyler was part of a test?”
“Yes.”
“And me?”
“You were never a patient.”
“But they used my DNA.”
“Yes.”
He closed his eyes.
“Why?”
“We don't know.”
He was silent.
Then he said,
“I'm still glad I helped Tyler.”
I kissed his forehead.
“I know.”
He looked at me.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Does this mean Dad lied?”
I swallowed.
“I think people around him lied.”
“Did he know?”
“I don't know.”
A voice came from the doorway.
“I didn't.”
Daniel stood there.
Jonah looked at him.
“You really didn't?”
“No.”
“You swear?”
Daniel nodded.
“On everything.”
Jonah studied him.
“Then find out.”
It was the first order Jonah had ever given his father.
And Daniel accepted it.
The next morning, we found Nathan.
Dead.
May you like
A message had been carved into the wall above him.
THE BOYS WERE NEVER SUPPOSED TO SURVIVE.
