Chapter 5 - THE WOMAN WHO KNEW TOO MUCHMaria disappeared before sunrise.
Her apartment was empty.
Her phone was smashed.
Her car remained in the driveway.
Her seven-year-old daughter was found sleeping at a neighbor's house.
Ethan immediately contacted the FBI.
This was no longer a family dispute.
It was a kidnapping.
And possibly murder.
Victoria came with him.
Ethan didn't trust her.
But he didn't have a choice.
She knew the family secrets.
She knew where the bodies were buried.
Literally.
An FBI agent named Daniel Brooks took the case.
He listened to the recording.
Then he looked at Ethan.
“You need to understand something.”
“What?”
“This isn't one murder.”
Ethan stared.
“How many?”
“We found evidence connecting your family to at least three suspicious deaths.”
“Rebecca?”
“Yes.”
“Who were the others?”
Brooks opened a file.
“An accountant named Michael Grant.”
“And?”
“A journalist named Sarah Miller.”
Ethan stared at the names.
“Both died twenty-four years ago.”
Brooks nodded.
“Both were investigating the same thing.”
“What?”
“An illegal adoption network.”
Ethan's face went pale.
“The baby.”
Brooks nodded.
“Your family wasn't only hiding a murder.”
“They were hiding children.”
The FBI searched the mansion.
Behind the library wall, they found a hidden passage.
It led to a room filled with children's records.
Birth certificates.
Adoption papers.
Photographs.
Dozens of them.
Some children were marked with numbers.
Others had names.
Ethan found one file.
His son's name.
He opened it.
Inside was a photograph taken before his son was born.
Victoria was standing in a hospital.
Holding a newborn.
Ethan's hands shook.
“That isn't our son.”
Victoria stared at the photograph.
“I've never seen this.”
The agent looked closer.
“The date is eight months before your child was born.”
Ethan stared at Victoria.
“What were you doing in that hospital?”
“I don't remember.”
“Don't lie.”
“I swear.”
Then the agent discovered something.
The baby's wrist had the same white bracelet.
A number was printed on it.
17.
Ethan looked at his son's wrist.
The bracelet Victoria had used carried the same number.
His blood ran cold.
“What does seventeen mean?”
Nobody knew.
Then Maria's daughter spoke from the doorway.
Everyone turned.
The little girl had followed the FBI agents inside.
She was holding a small photograph.
“My mommy told me never to show this.”
Ethan knelt.
“What is it?”
She handed it to him.
The photograph showed Rebecca.
Holding a baby.
And standing behind her was Ethan's father.
On the back was a handwritten sentence.
Child 17 survived.
Ethan looked at Victoria.
She was crying.
May you like
Then the mansion lights went out.
A single gunshot echoed from upstairs.
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