Chapter 12: The House Where It All Began
The location led us to an abandoned medical facility outside Chicago.
It had once been part of Rebecca House, the original residential program Dr. Price had established decades earlier.
The building stood behind a rusted iron fence.
Several windows were boarded up.
A faded sign remained above the entrance.
*REBECCA HOUSE — CHILD DEVELOPMENT CENTER.*
Mark stared at it through the windshield.
"My sister spent eleven months here.""
Detective Harris checked his equipment.
"We have officers securing the perimeter. Nobody enters until the building is cleared.""
Mark looked at him.
"She could be inside.""
"We don't know that yet.""
"I heard her voice.""
"And we're going to find her.""
I sat beside Mark, holding the photograph of Rebecca.
He hadn't stopped looking at it since we'd left his father's house.
"Do you think she'll recognize me?"" he asked.
I took his hand.
"You're her brother.""
"But I was supposed to protect her.""
"You were a child when this began.""
"I signed the document.""
"Because they lied to you.""
He stared at the building.
"What if she hates me?""
I didn't have an answer.
A few minutes later, Detective Harris received confirmation that the property was clear for entry.
We followed the officers inside.
The smell was unbearable.
Damp walls.
Old paper.
Mold.
The entrance hall contained a reception desk covered in dust.
On the wall were framed photographs of smiling children.
Some were decades old.
Others were recent.
Detective Harris stopped at the first corridor.
"These photographs need to be documented.""
An officer began taking pictures.
I moved closer to one frame.
It showed Rebecca at eight years old.
She was sitting in a chair, holding a stuffed rabbit.
A handwritten caption read:
*SUBJECT R-01 — SUCCESSFUL FAMILY SEPARATION RESPONSE.*
I felt sick.
"She was a child.""
Mark stood beside me.
"They turned her into a number.""
We continued down the corridor.
The first room contained old medical equipment.
The second held filing cabinets.
The third had a metal bed and a narrow window.
Then we reached a staircase leading underground.
Mark stopped.
"Another basement.""
Detective Harris switched on his flashlight.
"Stay behind us.""
We descended.
At the bottom was a long corridor with several doors.
One had a small viewing window.
Inside was a chair.
A table.
And a photograph of Rebecca.
But she wasn't eight anymore.
She was an adult.
Someone had written a message beneath the photograph.
*PATIENT R-01 — CONTINUED OBSERVATION.*
Mark grabbed the door handle.
It was locked.
An officer forced it open.
The room was empty.
On the table sat a glass of water, a half-eaten sandwich, and a notebook.
The food was fresh.
Someone had been there recently.
Detective Harris opened the notebook.
It contained handwritten entries.
Some were dated that week.
One page was marked:
*OCTOBER 30 — TRANSFER PREPARATION.*
Underneath was a list of names.
Rebecca Mitchell.
Caleb Foster.
Mia Collins.
And Noah Mitchell.
My stomach dropped.
"Why is Noah on this list?""
Detective Harris photographed the page.
"Because someone still intends to move him.""
Mark looked toward the hallway.
"Where is my sister?""
Then we heard something.
Three knocks.
A pause.
Three more knocks.
They came from behind the wall at the end of the corridor.
An officer examined the paneling.
He found a small metal handle concealed behind a loose section of wood.
The panel opened.
Behind it was another narrow passage.
And at the end stood a woman.
Her hair was uncombed.
Her clothes were worn.
Her face was pale.
But the scar on her left cheek matched the photograph.
Mark stopped breathing.
"Rebecca?""
The woman looked at him.
For several seconds, she didn't move.
Then her lips parted.
"Mark?""
He took one step.
She immediately backed away.
"Don't come closer.""
Mark stopped.
"It's me.""
Rebecca shook her head.
"You shouldn't be here.""
He began crying.
"I've been looking for you.""
She looked at his face.
Then at the officers.
Finally, her eyes settled on me.
"Are you Sarah?""
I nodded.
"I'm Sarah.""
She looked frightened.
"Where's Noah?""
"He's safe.""
Her shoulders dropped.
"Oh, thank God.""
Mark took another step.
"Rebecca, what happened to you?""
She looked toward the ceiling.
"Dr. Price said you'd never come.""
"I'm here now.""
"No. You don't understand.""
She moved toward a small cabinet.
Inside were several folders.
She removed one.
"These are the original files.""
Detective Harris approached carefully.
"We'll protect these records.""
Rebecca shook her head.
"Not just the records. There's a recording.""
She pointed toward an old computer.
"Everything started with a meeting here. The people involved believed they could predict which families would fight back and which would surrender.""
Mark stared at her.
"Who were the people?""
Rebecca hesitated.
Then she opened the folder.
Inside were photographs of six adults.
Dr. Price.
Principal Bennett.
Two doctors.
A former school board member.
And a man wearing a police uniform.
Detective Harris leaned closer.
His expression changed.
"Wait.""
He pointed toward the last photograph.
"That's Deputy Commissioner Robert Hayes.""
I looked at him.
"Who is he?""
Detective Harris swallowed.
"He's my supervisor.""
Nobody spoke.
Rebecca closed the folder.
"That's why I couldn't trust the police.""
Mark looked devastated.
"How long have you been here?""
"On and off for years.""
"Why didn't you escape?""
She looked at him.
"Because they told me you had signed the papers.""
Mark shook his head.
"I never knew.""
"I saw your signature.""
"They forged it.""
Rebecca's eyes filled with tears.
"I waited twenty years for you to come.""
Mark moved forward slowly.
This time, she didn't retreat.
He wrapped his arms around his sister.
And she finally broke down.
For a moment, everything else disappeared.
Then Detective Harris's radio crackled.
A voice came through.
"Detective, we have a problem.""
Harris stepped away.
"What?""
"The principal has been released.""
"What do you mean, released?""
"Someone from the district attorney's office authorized his release pending further investigation.""
Harris looked toward Rebecca.
"Who authorized it?""
The answer came through the radio.
"Deputy Commissioner Hayes.""
Detective Harris closed his eyes.
Then another officer entered the corridor.
"Detective, there's something you need to see.""
He handed over a printed document.
It was an emergency transfer authorization.
The date was tomorrow.
The destination was Northfield.
The child listed at the top was Noah Mitchell.
And at the bottom, beneath the authorization signature, was a name I recognized.
*SARAH MITCHELL.*
Someone had forged my signature again.
But this time, the document included something even more terrifying.
*PARENTAL CONSENT CONFIRMED. CHILD TO BE COLLECTED FROM HOSPITAL AT 8:00 A.M.*
I looked at Detective Harris.
"It's already arranged.""
He nodded grimly.
Then Rebecca grabbed my wrist.
"Sarah, you need to understand something.""
"What?""
She looked directly into my eyes.
"They don't need to break into your house anymore.""
She pointed toward the transfer document.
"They have someone inside the hospital.""
And before anyone could respond, my phone rang.
The caller ID showed the hospital's main number.
I answered.
A nurse's voice came through.
"Mrs. Mitchell? I'm sorry, but there's a woman here asking to take Noah home.""
"Who?""
The nurse hesitated.
"She says she's his grandmother.""
My blood turned cold.
Noah's grandmother had been dead for six years.
May you like
Then the nurse whispered:
"Mrs. Mitchell, she has all your identification documents.""
