Chapter 2 - The Man in the Closed Casket

Daniel moved through the house like a man who had rehearsed the escape.

That frightened Emily almost as much as seeing him alive.

“Kitchen drawers,” he said. “Any foil?”

“Top left.”

“Diaper bags?”

“Closet.”

“Car seats?”

“Two.”

He looked at the five infants.

“We need seven restraints.”

“Six. Sophie makes six.”

Daniel looked at her.

Emily swallowed.

“Five outside. Sophie upstairs.”

“Right.”

There was pain in his face when he said it, as though arithmetic itself hurt.

He pulled six folded emergency infant harnesses from the black duffel in the SUV.

Emily stared at them.

“You came prepared for babies.”

“I came prepared for the possibility.”

“You knew they were coming here.”

“I knew someone was trying to get them out.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Convenient.”

“Emily.”

“No. You don’t get to use my name like we’re still married.”

Daniel went still.

“We are still married.”

She stared at him.

A vehicle door slammed outside.

Daniel lowered his voice.

“Legally, anyway.”

“You were declared dead.”

“I know.”

“Then legally I’m a widow.”

“Fair point.”

Another door slammed.

Emily heard men speaking near the road.

Daniel shoved the black shielding sleeves over the silver bracelets.

“Upstairs. Get Sophie.”

Emily did not argue this time.

She ran.

Sophie stirred when Emily lifted her from the crib.

“Shh, little bird.”

The baby opened sleepy blue eyes.

Emily’s throat tightened.

Sophie had come to her nine months after a state placement worker named Cara Wynn called about an emergency foster situation. Emily had said no at first. Then Cara had mentioned that the child was premature and needed someone comfortable with apnea monitoring.

Emily had said yes before she understood she was saying yes to loving someone again.

Now she wrapped Sophie in a fleece sleep sack and carried her downstairs.

Daniel looked at the baby in Emily’s arms.

“What’s her full name?”

“Sophie Quinn.”

“Last name?”

“Quinn.”

“Birth mother?”

Emily’s eyes narrowed.

“Why?”

“Because Bellwether uses foster placements.”

The room seemed to tilt.

“What did you say?”

Daniel took Sophie’s carrier from beneath the stairs.

“I said they’ve used foster placements.”

“Used them for what?”

“I don’t know if she’s connected.”

“You just made her connected.”

“I’m telling you what I know.”

“No. You’re dropping pieces of poison and calling it truth.”

A hard knock struck the front door.

“County emergency services,” a man called. “We received an automated pediatric distress signal.”

Daniel looked at Emily.

She went cold.

The bracelets.

Another knock.

“Ma’am, open the door.”

Daniel whispered, “Do you know the sheriff?”

“Yes.”

“His voice?”

“Yes.”

“Is that him?”

“No.”

Daniel nodded once.

“Back door.”

Emily strapped Sophie into one harness and lifted the crescent-marked girl.

“What do I call them?” she whispered.

Daniel looked at the five children.

“Bellwether called them E-one through E-five.”

Emily’s face hardened.

“They are not numbers.”

“I agree.”

“Then don’t call them that.”

The front doorknob moved.

Daniel took two babies, securing one against his chest and one in a carrier.

“You take Sophie and two. I take three.”

“You have one set of arms.”

“I’ve had practice.”

Emily stared at him.

“With whose children?”

A crash sounded at the front of the house.

The outer storm door shattered.

Daniel’s eyes met hers.

“Later.”

They ran.

The back porch steps were slick with ice. Snow swallowed Emily’s boots to the ankle. Daniel opened the rear of the SUV, where a bench had been fitted with anchor points.

“This is insane,” Emily said.

“It’s safe.”

“You turned a truck into a nursery convoy.”

“I told you I came prepared.”

“That is not comforting.”

The kitchen window burst behind them.

Daniel shoved the last carrier into place.

“Get in.”

Emily climbed beside the children.

Daniel slid behind the wheel.

The headlights stayed off as the SUV rolled down the old service lane behind the barn.

Emily twisted around.

Two black vans stood in front of her house. Men in white winter gear moved across the porch.

One of them carried a medical case.

Not guns.

At least not visibly.

The sight was somehow worse.

“They look like paramedics,” she said.

“They’re recovery staff.”

“Recovery?”

“That’s what Bellwether calls them.”

“They’re babies, Daniel.”

“I know.”

“Stop saying that.”

He drove through a narrow gap between the trees.

The SUV bounced hard.

One baby cried.

Emily reached across the bench and touched his chest.

“I’m here. I’m right here.”

Daniel glanced in the mirror.

His face changed when he heard her voice.

She saw it.

She hated that she saw it.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“A ranger station above Lake Durant.”

“Why there?”

“Closed for the season. No networked utilities. No road cameras after the county bridge.”

“You’ve been planning this.”

“For a long time.”

“How long?”

Daniel was silent.

“Daniel.”

“Since I learned you were alive.”

Emily stared at him.

“You learned I was alive?”

He grimaced.

“Wrong phrasing.”

“Very wrong.”

“I woke up six weeks after the crash.”

The words quieted something in her, not because they comforted her, but because they finally sounded like a beginning.

“Where?”

“Private clinic in Quebec.”

“Bellwether?”

“A contractor.”

“Why were you there?”

“I was taken from the crash scene.”

“By whom?”

“Two men working for a security company called Northstar Clinical.”

“Why?”

Daniel’s hands tightened on the wheel.

“Because three days before the crash, I found irregular payments in Bellwether’s research foundation.”

Emily stared.

“You were auditing them?”

“The firm I worked for handled one of their investor accounts. I found payments to surrogate agencies, pediatric wards, funeral homes, and state placement contractors.”

Her stomach turned.

“Funeral homes.”

“Yes.”

“Our funeral home?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’ve had three years to find out.”

“I spent nineteen months in a locked clinic under another name.”

Emily stopped.

Daniel looked straight ahead.

“They kept you prisoner?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you escape?”

“I tried.”

She saw the scar along his wrist for the first time, pale and thick.

He continued.

“They told me you died in the crash.”

Emily closed her eyes.

“For nineteen months?”

“For fourteen. Then I heard a nurse mention your address while talking to someone on the phone.”

“And you still didn’t come home.”

“I couldn’t.”

“Don’t say couldn’t when you mean didn’t.”

His jaw worked.

“Fine. I didn’t.”

“Why?”

“Because the nurse said, ‘The widow is stable. Observation remains passive.’”

Emily felt the cold move inside the car.

“Observation.”

“I realized they were watching you.”

“So you decided the safest thing was to let me believe you were dead.”

“I decided the safest thing was not to lead them to you.”

“They were already watching me.”

“I didn’t know how closely.”

“You could have called.”

“Every number I touched was monitored.”

“You could have sent a letter.”

“They screened the mail.”

“You could have found a police officer.”

“The first officer I contacted delivered me back to Northstar within six hours.”

Emily looked at him.

Daniel’s face was expressionless now.

“What happened to that officer?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know a lot.”

“No.”

“At least that part is honest.”

He flinched.

They drove in silence for several miles.

Sophie slept through it, thumb curled against her cheek. The five children outside had quieted too, bundled close together beneath thermal blankets.

Emily watched them.

“Tell me how five babies can be mine.”

Daniel breathed out slowly.

“When we went through IVF, how many viable embryos did Bellwether tell us we had?”

“One.”

“Ava.”

“Yes.”

“They lied.”

Emily’s voice dropped.

“How many?”

“Six.”

She stared.

“No.”

“I found a lab inventory tied to your patient number.”

“No.”

“One embryo was transferred to you. Five were cryopreserved.”

“We signed disposal consent if there were extras.”

“They were supposed to tell us before there were extras.”

Emily looked at the babies again.

“Five.”

“Yes.”

“These are those embryos?”

“I believe so.”

“Born to whom?”

“Surrogates.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know all their names.”

“All?”

“Five pregnancies. Four confirmed surrogates. One record is missing.”

Emily covered her mouth.

The crescent-marked girl stirred.

“What was the experiment?”

“I don’t know the full protocol.”

“You said Bellwether.”

“I know they called it Hearth.”

Emily looked at him.

“Hearth.”

“Yes.”

“That’s obscene.”

“I agree.”

“What did they do?”

Daniel’s voice was rough.

“Longitudinal developmental testing. Hormone exposure during pregnancy. Attachment manipulation after birth. Stress-response measurement.”

Emily’s hands shook.

“On infants?”

“Yes.”

“What kind of hormone?”

“I don’t know.”

“Stop saying that.”

“I would rather tell you I don’t know than invent an answer.”

She turned toward the window.

Snow and darkness streaked past.

“Where is Ava?” she asked.

Daniel did not answer.

Emily turned slowly.

“Where is my daughter?”

His eyes remained on the road.

“I don’t know.”

Her anger rose so quickly it made her dizzy.

“You hesitate before every lie.”

“I’m not lying.”

“You hesitated.”

“Because I know what you’re going to think.”

“Try me.”

Daniel swallowed.

“I do not believe Ava died that night.”

Emily stared at him.

The SUV seemed to narrow around her.

“What?”

“I found no cremation record.”

“We buried her.”

“We buried a sealed infant casket we were never allowed to open.”

“She was dead.”

“That’s what they told us.”

“The doctor said—”

“Dr. Miriam Vale signed the death certificate.”

Emily went still.

Dr. Vale had been the fertility specialist who held Emily’s hand through two failed cycles. The doctor who sent flowers after the accident. The doctor who called every month for a year, asking whether Emily was sleeping, eating, healing.

Emily heard those calls differently now.

“How long have you suspected?”

“Eight months.”

“Eight months.”

“I needed proof.”

“You needed to tell me.”

“I needed to keep you alive.”

“No.”

“Emily—”

“No. You don’t get to make that choice for me.”

Daniel looked at her then.

“I know.”

She almost shouted at him again.

Instead she saw tears standing in his eyes.

He looked back at the road.

“I know,” he repeated. “That is the choice I regret most.”

The anger did not leave.

But it changed shape.

A baby began fussing.

Emily leaned over and touched the child’s cheek.

“We need names,” she said.

Daniel glanced at her.

“What?”

“I won’t call them numbers.”

“Okay.”

“They probably had names from the women who carried them.”

“Yes.”

“We find those names.”

“We will.”

“And if Ava is alive…”

Daniel waited.

Emily’s voice almost failed.

“If she is alive, we find her too.”

Daniel nodded.

“Whatever it costs.”

Emily looked at him.

“No more secrets.”

He did not answer fast enough.

Her eyes narrowed.

“Daniel.”

He exhaled.

“There is one thing I haven’t told you.”

“Of course there is.”

“It’s about your house.”

“What about it?”

“The county property records say you bought it two years ago.”

“I did.”

“With the insurance settlement.”

“Yes.”

Daniel’s hands tightened on the steering wheel.

“Bellwether owned the mortgage note until six months ago.”

Emily felt the blood drain from her face.

“I never had a mortgage.”

“I know.”

“I paid cash.”

“I know.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I’m saying the shell company that sold you the house was theirs.”

Emily turned toward the black road behind them.

Her farmhouse was gone from sight.

The place she had chosen because it felt remote.

Safe.

Quiet.

“They put me there.”

Daniel said nothing.

“They put me in that house.”

“Yes.”

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Emily looked down at Sophie sleeping beside five stolen children.

For the first time, she understood that the life she had rebuilt after grief might never have belonged to her at all.