Chapter 11: Dr. Price's Real Motive
Detective Harris immediately ordered everyone away from the windows.
"Nobody approaches the entrance.""
Mark stood beside the bookcase, holding his father's letter.
"She's here for the documents.""
"Probably," Harris replied.
"And we're going to find out why.""
Two officers moved toward the front hallway.
Another secured the back entrance.
I stood behind the desk, gripping my phone.
Then the doorbell rang.
Three times.
Slowly.
Confidently.
Detective Harris motioned for everyone to remain silent.
The doorbell rang again.
Then a woman's voice came through the door.
"Mark, I know you're inside.""
Dr. Price.
"Open the door. We need to talk.""
Mark stepped forward.
"Stay back," Harris ordered.
Dr. Price continued.
"Your father made a terrible mistake. I don't want you repeating it.""
Detective Harris opened the door.
Two officers stood behind him.
"Dr. Eleanor Price?""
She smiled.
"Detective. What a surprise.""
"You're being asked to accompany us for questioning.""
"On what grounds?""
"An ongoing investigation involving child abuse, unlawful confinement, falsified medical records, and potential kidnapping.""
Her smile disappeared.
"Those are serious allegations.""
"Then you should have no difficulty answering questions.""
She looked past him.
Her eyes found Mark.
"Hello, Mark.""
He stepped forward.
"Where is my sister?""
Dr. Price tilted her head.
"Rebecca is alive. You should be grateful.""
"Where is she?""
"She's receiving the care she needs.""
Mark's voice rose.
"You've kept her away from us for twenty years!""
"Your father agreed to the arrangement.""
"He withdrew his consent!""
"After he discovered the financial implications.""
Mark looked ready to attack her.
I grabbed his arm.
"Mark, don't.""
Dr. Price noticed me.
"Sarah. I was hoping we'd meet again under better circumstances.""
I stepped forward.
"You photographed my son in his bedroom.""
She sighed.
"That was part of a safety assessment.""
"You threatened to take him.""
"No one intended to harm Noah.""
"You locked children in a basement!""
Her expression hardened.
"Children sometimes require structured intervention.""
Detective Harris interrupted.
"That's enough. You're coming with us.""
But Dr. Price reached into her handbag.
An officer immediately raised his hand.
"Don't move.""
She slowly removed a small identification card.
"I'm a licensed medical professional. I have documentation authorizing my work with these children.""
"Not in a locked basement," Harris replied.
She smiled again.
"You're making assumptions.""
Then she looked at Mark.
"Tell them what your father signed.""
Mark held up the original agreement.
"I have the records.""
For the first time, Dr. Price looked genuinely unsettled.
"Where did you find those?""
"In my father's safe.""
Her eyes moved toward the desk.
"You shouldn't have opened it.""
"Why?""
"Because some things are more complicated than they appear.""
Mark stepped closer.
"Tell me what happened to Rebecca.""
She remained silent.
"Tell me!""
Dr. Price looked at him.
"Rebecca was our most important participant.""
The room went quiet.
"Participant?"" I repeated.
"She displayed unusual emotional responses. Her ability to recognize patterns of adult manipulation was remarkable.""
I stared at her.
"You experimented on a little girl?""
"We conducted developmental observations.""
"You separated her from her family!""
"Your father authorized it.""
Mark slammed the folder onto the desk.
"He wanted her back!""
Dr. Price's expression changed.
"Your father became unstable. He was threatening to expose the project. We had to protect the research.""
Detective Harris stepped closer.
"What research?""
She looked at him.
Then she said something none of us expected.
"The program was designed to identify how children respond to prolonged separation from parental support.""
I felt my stomach turn.
"Why?""
"To develop behavioral intervention methods for children considered emotionally resistant.""
"And the parents?""
"Some were cooperative. Others were not.""
"Like me?""
She gave a small nod.
"You were becoming difficult.""
I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
"So you targeted Noah because I wouldn't cooperate?""
"Your son was already part of the observation group.""
Mark grabbed the edge of the desk.
"Why him?""
Dr. Price finally looked directly at him.
"Because your family was the original case.""
She pointed toward the documents.
"Rebecca was the first generation. You were the second. Noah was supposed to be the third.""
Mark looked horrified.
"What does that mean?""
"The original research focused on inherited behavioral responses. We wanted to understand whether children exposed to the same family environment developed predictable patterns.""
Detective Harris stared at her.
"And you thought locking children in basements was acceptable research?""
"Those were not my instructions.""
"Who gave them?""
She hesitated.
Then she said:
"Richard Bennett.""
"Principal Bennett?""
"He expanded the program without my authorization.""
I almost laughed.
"You're blaming the principal?""
Dr. Price looked at me.
"He was responsible for the disciplinary facilities. I handled the clinical assessments.""
Detective Harris immediately instructed an officer to record the statement.
Dr. Price realized what she'd said.
Her expression hardened.
"I want legal counsel.""
"Of course," Harris replied.
"You'll have an opportunity to speak with an attorney.""
He instructed the officers to escort her outside.
But before she left, she turned toward Mark.
"Your sister will never forgive you.""
Mark went still.
"Why?""
Dr. Price smiled faintly.
"Because she knows what you did.""
The door closed behind her.
Mark stood motionless.
I approached him.
"What does she mean?""
He shook his head.
"I don't know.""
But Detective Harris had already returned to the documents.
He picked up another folder.
"There's something here about Rebecca's final evaluation.""
He opened it.
The first page contained a photograph of Rebecca at twenty-one.
The second showed a medical record.
The third contained a handwritten statement.
Detective Harris read it silently.
Then his expression changed.
"What?"" I asked.
He turned the page toward Mark.
At the bottom was a signature.
*MARK MITCHELL — AUTHORIZED RELEASE.*
Mark stared at it.
"No.""
The detective placed the document on the desk.
"It appears someone authorized Rebecca's transfer out of Northfield twelve years ago.""
Mark's face turned white.
"I never signed that.""
I looked at the document.
The signature was almost identical to his.
But there was something else.
A date.
The same week Mark's father had died.
Then Mark whispered:
"That's my signature.""
I turned toward him.
"What?""
He closed his eyes.
"I signed something twelve years ago.""
"What did you sign?""
"I thought it was a medical consent form.""
He looked at me, devastated.
"They told me Rebecca had died.""
I stepped backward.
"Mark...""
He shook his head.
"I didn't know.""
Detective Harris studied the document.
"Then someone used your signature to authorize a transfer.""
Mark looked at the photograph.
"Where did they send her?""
A new message appeared on the detective's phone.
It contained a location.
May you like
And a single sentence.
*REBECCA IS AT THE PLACE WHERE THE FIRST CHILDREN WERE TAKEN.*
