CHAPTER 4 THE WOMAN IN THE SECURITY FOOTAGE
WELCOME BACK, MAYA.
I stared at those two words until they stopped looking like words.
They became a threat.
A sentence written by someone who knew me.
Someone who believed I had forgotten something.
Something important.
Something dangerous.
Richard stood beside me, staring at the black monitor.
Neither of us spoke.
Finally, I whispered, “What does ‘welcome back’ mean?”
Richard didn't answer.
“Richard.”
“I don't know.”
“You're lying.”
His eyes moved toward me.
“I don't know what happened to you.”
“But you know something.”
“Yes.”
“What?”
He took a slow breath.
“I knew your name before you walked into my house.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
“I saw your employment application.”
“That isn't what you mean.”
“No.”
Richard looked away.
“I knew who you were before Ethan offered you the job.”
I stepped backward.
“Why?”
“Because your name appeared in one of my father's archived files.”
My heart began pounding.
“When?”
“Months ago.”
“And you still hired me?”
“I didn't.”
“Then why did you let me stay?”
“Because after I saw you, I realized something.”
“What?”
“You looked exactly like the woman in the photographs.”
I stared at him.
“What photographs?”
Richard walked toward a locked cabinet.
He entered a code.
The drawer opened.
Inside was a thick folder.
He removed it carefully.
On the front were three words:
PROJECT NIGHTFALL
My pulse quickened.
“What is Nightfall?”
Richard placed the folder on the desk.
“Something I wasn't supposed to know existed.”
He opened it.
Inside were photographs.
Dozens of them.
Medical facilities.
Research laboratories.
Patients.
Doctors.
And me.
I stopped breathing.
The first photograph showed me at approximately twenty-eight years old.
I was standing outside a medical facility.
I didn't recognize the building.
The second showed me entering a car.
The third showed me sitting in a hospital room.
The fourth showed my father beside me.
I stared at the photographs.
“I've never seen these.”
“I know.”
“Where did you get them?”
“My father's private archive.”
“Why does he have pictures of me?”
Richard didn't answer.
I picked up another photograph.
This one was different.
I was standing beside a woman in a white coat.
I recognized her.
Dr. Helena Ward.
My father's neurologist.
My fingers began to tremble.
“She treated my father.”
Richard nodded.
“She was also one of the principal researchers on Level 7.”
I looked at him.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“My father trusted her.”
“That may have been the problem.”
I put the photograph down.
“What happened to her?”
Richard's face darkened.
“She disappeared.”
“When?”
“Four years ago.”
“The same year my father died.”
“Yes.”
I felt dizzy.
“Richard, what happened to me?”
He stared at me.
“I don't know.”
“Then let's find someone who does.”
“Who?”
“Dr. Ward.”
“She may be dead.”
“May be?”
Richard's eyes hardened.
“Her death was never confirmed.”
I looked at the folder.
“Then she's alive.”
“Maybe.”
“And you know where she is?”
“No.”
“Then why do you have her picture?”
Richard turned another page.
A handwritten address appeared.
My heart jumped.
“You said you didn't know where she was.”
“I said I didn't know if she was alive.”
I read the address.
It was in Indiana.
A small town I'd never heard of.
“Let's go.”
Richard shook his head.
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
“Because we're being watched.”
I looked around.
“We're underground.”
“That doesn't matter.”
“How?”
He pointed at the ceiling.
“Cameras.”
I stared.
“Here?”
“Yes.”
“Then how can we talk?”
Richard smiled faintly.
“Because my father built this room to defeat surveillance.”
He reached beneath the desk and flipped a hidden switch.
A low humming sound filled the room.
“What is that?”
“Signal jammer.”
I exhaled.
“For how long?”
“Ten minutes.”
Richard closed the folder.
“That's all we have.”
I looked at him.
“Then we use the ten minutes.”
He nodded.
We left the archive through another underground exit.
Richard drove.
I sat beside him, staring through the windshield.
Neither of us spoke for several minutes.
Finally, I asked:
“Why did my memory get altered?”
Richard kept his eyes on the road.
“I don't know.”
“Then what do you think?”
He hesitated.
“I think you witnessed something.”
“What?”
“Something involving your father.”
“And they erased it?”
“Possibly.”
“How?”
“Drugs. Trauma. Hypnosis. Neurological manipulation.”
I turned toward him.
“Can people really erase memories?”
“Not like in movies.”
“Then?”
“Memories can be disrupted. Suppressed. Fragmented.”
“Level 7 was researching that?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Richard's hands tightened around the steering wheel.
“Because if you can manipulate memory, you can manipulate testimony.”
I felt cold.
“Why would a healthcare company need that?”
Richard looked at me.
“That's the question.”
We drove in silence.
Then my phone suddenly turned on.
I hadn't touched it.
The screen lit up.
One notification.
UNKNOWN NUMBER
A message appeared.
YOU'RE GOING TO THE WRONG PLACE.
I showed Richard.
His face hardened.
Another message.
DR. WARD ISN'T IN INDIANA.
Then another.
SHE'S CLOSER THAN YOU THINK.
I looked at Richard.
“What does that mean?”
He didn't answer.
The phone vibrated again.
A photograph appeared.
I opened it.
It showed the inside of our SUV.
Taken from the back seat.
My heart stopped.
We were alone.
At least, I thought we were.
Richard slammed on the brakes.
The SUV stopped on the empty road.
He grabbed the gun.
“Get out.”
“What?”
“Out.”
We climbed out.
Richard opened the rear door.
Nothing.
The back seat was empty.
He searched beneath the seats.
Nothing.
Then he noticed something.
A tiny black device attached beneath the passenger seat.
He pulled it free.
A tracking transmitter.
My blood ran cold.
“They've been following us.”
Richard crushed it beneath his shoe.
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“Then how did they know where we were going?”
Richard looked at me.
“Because someone knew our destination before we did.”
I felt a chill.
“Someone inside the mansion.”
“Yes.”
“Ethan?”
“Maybe.”
“Chloe?”
“Maybe.”
“Your mother?”
Richard hesitated.
“I don't know.”
I stared at him.
“You don't trust anyone.”
“Not anymore.”
We returned to the SUV.
Richard checked the road before starting the engine.
“We need another route.”
“Where?”
“Chicago.”
“Why?”
“There's someone I can trust.”
I looked at him.
“You said you trusted no one.”
“I said no one in my family.”
The person Richard took me to was an elderly former FBI investigator named Samuel Reed.
He lived alone in a modest brick house on the north side of Chicago.
When he opened the door, he stared at Richard.
“You're supposed to be dead.”
Richard smiled.
“Good to see you too, Sam.”
Samuel's eyes shifted to me.
“Who's she?”
“Maya Torres.”
Samuel's face changed.
He stepped backward.
“Come inside.”
I noticed the reaction immediately.
“You know me.”
Samuel looked at Richard.
“You didn't tell her?”
“No.”
“Then you need to.”
Richard shook his head.
“Not yet.”
Samuel's expression hardened.
“Richard, if she's here, it's already too late.”
My stomach tightened.
“Tell me what you know.”
Samuel looked at me.
“Your father saved your life.”
I stared at him.
“How?”
“He refused to cooperate.”
“With whom?”
“Vitalis.”
“Why?”
“Because he discovered what Level 7 was doing.”
“What?”
Samuel glanced at Richard.
Then back at me.
“They weren't simply testing medical treatments.”
“What were they doing?”
“They were creating evidence.”
“Evidence of what?”
“Evidence that could make someone disappear.”
I didn't understand.
Samuel continued.
“Level 7 identified people who knew too much.”
“Then what?”
“They were given experimental neurological treatments.”
My blood ran cold.
“Memory manipulation.”
Samuel nodded.
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“Witnesses. Whistleblowers. Employees.”
I thought of the mysterious messages.
My father's file.
My missing memories.
“What happened to my father?”
Samuel's face became grim.
“He discovered the program was being used on people who weren't patients.”
“Who?”
“You.”
I felt the room tilt.
“I wasn't a patient.”
“No.”
“Then why me?”
Samuel looked at Richard.
“Because your father refused to give them something.”
“What?”
“A key.”
“What key?”
“A genetic key.”
I stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
Samuel sighed.
“Your father was working on a neurological treatment that could potentially reverse certain forms of nerve damage.”
I looked at Richard.
His eyes had changed.
“That sounds like…”
“Exactly,” Samuel said.
“Richard's condition.”
Richard stepped forward.
“What are you saying?”
Samuel looked at him.
“The technology that caused your paralysis may be connected to the technology that could cure it.”
Richard's face went pale.
“My father?”
“Your father and Julian were working together.”
I felt my throat tighten.
“They knew each other.”
“Yes.”
“And they were developing a treatment?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
Samuel looked toward the window.
“Someone stole their research.”
“Who?”
“Ethan.”
The room went silent.
Richard shook his head.
“My brother?”
Samuel nodded.
“He sold part of it.”
“To whom?”
“We never identified the buyer.”
I felt a strange pressure in my chest.
“Valerie?”
Samuel frowned.
“Why do you know that name?”
I told him everything.
His face became increasingly serious.
When I finished, he walked to a filing cabinet.
He pulled out a folder.
Inside were old investigation photographs.
One showed Ethan meeting a man in a parking garage.
Another showed Chloe entering a laboratory.
Then one showed Miguel.
My ex-husband.
I stared.
“Miguel.”
Samuel nodded.
“He was an informant.”
“For you?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did he cheat on me?”
Samuel's expression softened.
“He didn't.”
I looked away.
“I know that now.”
“He was trying to keep you away from the investigation.”
“Why?”
“Because you were being watched.”
“When?”
“For years.”
I felt tears sting my eyes.
“My whole marriage?”
“Yes.”
“By whom?”
Samuel hesitated.
Then he handed me another photograph.
It showed Miguel standing outside my father's house.
A man stood behind him.
I recognized him immediately.
Ethan.
But that wasn't what shocked me.
Standing beside Ethan was Ofelia.
My former mother-in-law.
I couldn't breathe.
“No.”
Samuel nodded.
“Ofelia knew.”
“Knew what?”
“Everything.”
I shook my head.
“My mother-in-law?”
“She was part of the financial network that funded Level 7.”
My stomach dropped.
Suddenly her words came back to me.
A woman builds her family by maintaining the home.
You'll finally understand how brutal it is to survive without my son.
She hadn't simply wanted me dependent.
She had wanted me isolated.
Out of the workforce.
Away from people.
Away from information.
Away from anyone who could ask questions.
I whispered:
“She kept me home on purpose.”
Richard looked at me.
“What?”
“She didn't want me working.”
Samuel nodded.
“Because your employment would have given you access to people outside the family.”
I felt sick.
“For three years…”
I couldn't finish.
Richard stepped closer.
“Maya.”
I looked at him.
“I thought my life fell apart because my husband cheated.”
Richard said nothing.
“But what if the divorce wasn't the punishment?”
I stared at him.
“What if it was the escape?”
Samuel looked between us.
“You're beginning to understand.”
Suddenly—
A gunshot shattered the window.
Samuel pushed me down.
Richard tackled me behind the couch.
Glass exploded across the room.
Another shot.
Then silence.
Samuel crawled toward the window.
“Sniper.”
Richard looked at me.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
He grabbed my hand.
“Stay down.”
We heard a car accelerate outside.
Samuel ran toward the back door.
“Don't.”
Richard stopped him.
“They want you outside.”
Samuel looked back.
“Then what do we do?”
Richard pointed toward the basement.
“Safe room.”
We ran downstairs.
Samuel entered a code.
A steel door opened.
Inside was a reinforced room with communication equipment.
Samuel locked it.
I was shaking.
“Who shot at us?”
“Someone who knows we have the files.”
Richard looked at Samuel.
“How did they find us?”
Samuel stared at me.
“They didn't.”
“What?”
“They followed her.”
He pointed at me.
My stomach sank.
“What?”
Samuel stepped closer.
“They've been tracking you for years.”
Richard's face hardened.
“That's impossible.”
Samuel shook his head.
“No.”
He looked at me.
“Maya, your phone isn't the only thing they've been tracking.”
“What else?”
Samuel pointed toward my neck.
I touched it instinctively.
“What?”
“Your pendant.”
I froze.
The pendant my father had given me.
I had worn it every day since he died.
Richard stepped closer.
“Take it off.”
I removed the necklace.
Samuel examined it.
Then his eyes widened.
“Where did you get this?”
“My father.”
He turned it over.
A tiny seam ran across the back.
Samuel pressed it.
The pendant opened.
Inside was a microscopic storage chip.
My breath caught.
“What is that?”
Samuel looked at Richard.
“Your father's key.”
Richard stared.
“My God.”
I looked at the tiny chip.
“My father hid this inside my necklace?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Samuel's voice was grim.
“Because he knew they would search his house.”
“And they never found it.”
“No.”
I looked at Richard.
“They were looking for this.”
“Yes.”
“And my father gave it to me.”
“Yes.”
“Then why don't I remember?”
Samuel's expression changed.
“Because you saw what happened after he gave it to you.”
“What happened?”
“You were taken.”
I felt my body go cold.
“No.”
Samuel nodded.
“Four years ago, after your father's death, you disappeared for forty-eight hours.”
I stared at him.
“I was at home.”
“No.”
“I remember.”
“You remember being at home.”
He paused.
“You don't remember the two days before that.”
Richard looked at me.
“Maya…”
I suddenly remembered something.
A hallway.
White walls.
Fluorescent lights.
A woman's voice.
Don't fight it.
Then pain.
A needle.
A bright ceiling.
And my father's voice.
Run, Maya. Don't trust anyone.
I screamed.
Richard caught me before I fell.
The memories came flooding back.
A laboratory.
My father.
Miguel.
Ethan.
Dr. Ward.
And a young woman standing behind the glass.
Valerie.
I remembered her.
She had been crying.
And she had whispered:
“I'm sorry.”
I looked at Richard.
“I remember.”
“What?”
“I remember Level 7.”
Samuel went pale.
“What did you see?”
I looked at the pendant.
Then at Richard.
“My father didn't die because of his stroke.”
Richard held my shoulders.
“What happened?”
I swallowed.
“He was killed.”
Silence.
“Who killed him?”
I closed my eyes.
The memory returned.
A man entering the room.
A syringe.
My father trying to fight.
Then a face.
I opened my eyes.
“I know who did it.”
Richard's expression hardened.
“Who?”
I whispered the name.
And Richard's face turned completely white.
May you like
Because the person I remembered standing over my father's bed—
was someone we had trusted enough to let inside this house.
