Chapter 4 - Room 214I spent the next morning trying to reconcile two versions of my father.
The man I knew had flaws.
Plenty of them.
Daniel Mercer could be selfish, controlling, emotionally evasive, and infuriatingly convinced that money could solve things apologies couldn’t.
But kidnapping?
Hiding a missing woman?
Taking her newborn?
My mind rejected those possibilities even as evidence stacked itself in front of me.
Detective Torres warned me not to contact Dad while he was being interviewed.
I obeyed.
Instead, I sat beside Noah’s hospital crib and watched his chest rise and fall.
He looked impossibly small beneath the white blanket.
Grandma Ruth slept in a chair beside me.
At eleven, Jenna Byers arrived.
She was thirty-two, with curly auburn hair and eyes swollen from crying.
Her mother, Susan, came with her.
The instant Susan saw Noah, she covered her mouth.
“Oh, Lauren.”
She stepped toward the crib, then stopped herself.
“May I?”
Dr. Park had explained that custody decisions were now in the hands of child services.
But touching him was permitted.
I nodded.
Susan reached down and gently touched his foot.
Noah stretched his toes.
She began crying.
“He has her chin.”
Jenna stood behind her, shaking.
I suddenly felt like an intruder.
This wasn’t merely my half-brother anymore.
He might be their grandson.
Their nephew.
Their missing daughter’s child.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
Jenna looked at me.
“For what?”
“For my father.”
“You didn’t do this.”
“We don’t know what he did.”
She held my gaze.
“No. But we know he lied.”
That was impossible to argue with.
Detectives visited the motel listed on the receipt.
Room 214 had been rented under a fake name, but surveillance footage from three weeks earlier still existed.
At 3:18 p.m., Torres called.
“Can you come downstairs?”
I met her in a private consultation room.
“There’s been a development.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
“We obtained motel security footage.”
“And?”
“Your father appears on it.”
I closed my eyes.
“When?”
“The night the receipt was issued.”
“Was Lauren with him?”
Torres paused.
“Yes.”
My eyes snapped open.
“Alive?”
“She was walking.”
Relief hit so suddenly that tears filled my eyes.
“She was alive.”
“At that point, yes.”
“Then Dad didn’t—”
“Caroline.”
The detective’s tone stopped me.
“What?”
“Lauren did not look like someone staying voluntarily.”
The relief disappeared.
“What does that mean?”
“Your father was supporting her as they walked. She appeared weak or sedated.”
“No.”
“Melissa arrived separately twenty minutes later carrying an infant car seat.”
I gripped the table.
Torres continued.
“They stayed thirty-seven minutes.”
Thirty-seven.
The same length as Melissa’s phone recording.
I didn’t know whether that mattered.
But I noticed.
“What happened after?”
“Your father and Melissa left with the infant.”
“And Lauren?”
Torres didn’t answer immediately.
“They left her in the room.”
My breath caught.
“Was she there when staff entered?”
“No.”
“How did she leave?”
“That’s what we’re trying to determine.”
The motel had a rear staircase without a camera.
Lauren could have walked out.
Someone else could have collected her.
Or something worse could have happened.
“What does Dad say?”
“He claims Lauren voluntarily gave him temporary custody.”
“Why?”
“He says she was frightened of the baby’s biological father.”
“Who is that?”
“He won’t identify him.”
“And the fake birth story?”
“He claims Lauren demanded secrecy.”
“Why was her purse in his garage?”
“He says she left it with him deliberately.”
“The note?”
Torres gave me a tired look.
“He says it referred to Lauren staying hidden.”
I hated how plausible each individual explanation could sound.
But together?
Together they smelled like rot.
“And Melissa?”
“She refuses to discuss Lauren.”
A knock sounded.
Officer Mason entered holding a tablet.
“Elena.”
Torres took it.
Her eyes moved across the screen.
Then she looked at me.
“We found Lauren’s car.”
“Where?”
“Long-term parking at the airport.”
“Did she fly somewhere?”
“No record of her boarding a flight under her name.”
That meant nothing.
Or it meant everything.
The case moved faster after that.
DNA testing was expedited.
Twenty-four hours later, the result came back.
Noah was Lauren Byers’s biological son.
But the second result shocked us even more.
Daniel Mercer was not Noah’s father.
Dad had lied about that too.
Child services temporarily placed Noah with Susan Byers after basic screening and emergency approval.
Watching Lauren’s mother carry him out of the hospital was one of the strangest moments of my life.
I loved him.
I had only known him for weeks, but I loved him.
Yet he belonged with people desperately searching for his mother.
Grandma and I followed them outside.
Before we separated, Susan hugged me.
“We’ll keep you in his life if we’re allowed.”
That broke me.
“Thank you.”
The following day, Dad was released pending investigation.
He called me seventeen times.
I ignored every call.
Then he came to Grandma’s house.
I saw him through the front window.
Grandma said, “You don’t have to open that door.”
“I know.”
But I did.
Dad looked twenty years older.
“Caroline.”
“Why did you lie?”
“Let me inside.”
“No.”
“Please.”
That word sounded unfamiliar coming from him.
I stepped onto the porch and closed the door behind me.
“Talk.”
He stared toward the street.
“I was trying to help Lauren.”
“You pretended her baby was yours.”
“She asked me to.”
“Why?”
“Because she was terrified.”
“Of whom?”
Dad’s eyes met mine.
“His father.”
“Who is he?”
“I can’t tell you.”
I laughed bitterly.
“You’re still protecting secrets?”
“I’m protecting you.”
“From what?”
His voice dropped.
“From people you don’t understand.”
I crossed my arms.
“Melissa abused Noah.”
“I know.”
“You defended her.”
“I panicked.”
“You lied to police.”
“I panicked.”
“You knew Lauren.”
“Yes.”
“You helped hide her.”
“Yes.”
“Where is she?”
Dad looked away.
“I don’t know.”
“Then tell me who does.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
His eyes filled with tears.
That scared me more than anything.
I couldn’t remember seeing my father cry at my mother’s funeral.
“Because I already made one mistake that put Lauren in danger.”
“What mistake?”
“I trusted Melissa.”
A car turned onto Grandma’s street.
Dad immediately went rigid.
A black SUV.
It slowed.
Then continued past.
Dad watched until it disappeared.
“You need to listen to me,” he whispered.
“Then talk.”
“Melissa wasn’t supposed to know where Lauren was.”
“But she did.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did Melissa want?”
Dad swallowed.
“The baby.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
“I thought she wanted to raise him.”
“You thought?”
“Lauren needed somewhere safe. I agreed to keep Noah for a few days.”
“Why pretend you were his father?”
“Because Lauren believed whoever was looking for her had access to hospital records.”
“Who was looking?”
Dad rubbed his face.
“I promised her.”
“Stop protecting promises and start protecting people.”
He looked shattered.
Finally he whispered a name.
“Warren Cole.”
I frowned.
“Who?”
Dad seemed surprised.
“You’ve never heard of him?”
“No.”
“He owns Cole Pharmaceutical Distribution.”
I knew the company.
Everyone in our area did.
Hospitals, clinics, pharmacies.
Warren Cole had donated millions to local charities.
His face appeared on billboards and business magazines.
Dad continued.
“Lauren worked for him.”
“What does that have to do with Noah?”
“Everything.”
Before he could explain, Grandma opened the door.
“Caroline.”
Something in her tone made me turn.
She held my phone.
“Detective Torres.”
I took it.
“Hello?”
Torres spoke quickly.
“Caroline, where is your father?”
I looked at him.
“Standing beside me.”
“Keep him there.”
“Why?”
“We recovered deleted files from Melissa’s phone backup.”
Dad heard.
His face changed.
Torres continued.
“There’s another recording.”
My pulse jumped.
“Of Noah?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“Lauren.”
Dad grabbed the porch railing.
Torres said, “The video was recorded in motel room 214.”
I could barely breathe.
“Is she alive?”
“She was at the time.”
“What happens in the video?”
Torres paused.
“Lauren is talking directly to the camera.”
“What does she say?”
“She says if anything happens to her, Warren Cole is responsible.”
Dad closed his eyes.
But Torres wasn’t finished.
“And then she says something else.”
“What?”
“She says Melissa works for him.”
I looked at Dad.
His face collapsed.
The woman he had brought into his home wasn’t simply cruel.
She had never been there for him at all.
May you like
And according to Lauren’s final known recording, putting Noah inside that glass jar wasn’t the beginning of Melissa’s plan.
It was what she did after the plan had already started falling apart.
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