Natasha watched the rising sun from the hospital window; it looked so pretty cresting over the ridge. She’d enjoyed sunrises since she was a girl, and held fond memories of many since. This dawn reminded Natasha how beautiful the sun looked rising above the Motherland Memorial in Kyiv. It gave her hope.
“Hello, wife.”
Natasha knew that voice behind her. It was John Appleton.
“You realize that you played your part already?” Natasha said.
“I thought I would continue, at least until Ellen is out of the woods.”
He put his hands on Natasha’s shoulders.
She turned and gave him a cold glare.
“Let’s check on Ellen,” Natasha said as she left the room.
Natasha noticed that the hospital hallway was a little too silent for her liking; she had a bad feeling. She continued down the hallway until she reached Ellen’s room. No change—Ellen was resting.
Natasha went next door to check on the boys. Ralphie was asleep. Nigel was sitting in an uncomfortable-looking chair in the corner, working on his laptop.
“What you working on?” Natasha asked.
“I’ve been replaying the video from the surveillance cameras, looking for clues. I did another perimeter sweep. Found another camera positioned to look down the dock, away from the boat,” Nigel explained.
“Were you able to find anything useful?” Natasha asked.
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“I found flaws in its firmware, so now I have access. The only interesting finding was the van the box came out of.”
“Why was it interesting?”
“I could get a partial license plate number. A quick check of DMV records—” Nigel paused. “Don’t ask me how easy it was to get into that system!”
Natasha smiled.
Nigel continued, “The partial plate revealed that the van belongs to a company called West Sand Holdings. I checked all known company databases, and no such company exists in the US. But I found one in Morocco.”
Natasha frowned. What does this mean? Nigel’s excited about it, so it’s worth a deeper dive, Natasha thought.
“Any more information about the Taker?” Nigel asked.
It impressed Natasha that Nigel could remember such details, despite all the physical and emotional stresses he had been under these past weeks.
“Not yet—”
A loud rap on the door interrupted her train of thought. It was Dr. Rogers. Ralphie stirred, but went back to sleep.
“Sorry to interrupt, Gretchen. Do you have a moment to talk?”
Dr. Rogers gave Natasha a “follow me” gesture. She followed him down the hall.
“I didn’t want the children to get alarmed.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Ellen, your sister isn’t regaining consciousness, so we ran an EEG; it’s standard procedure, the test is painless, and . . .” The doctor licked his lips.
What is he hiding?
“What’s wrong?” Natasha said, more forcefully than she had intended.
“She reacted violently to the tests. Do you know if your sister has epilepsy?”
The question surprised Natasha, and she couldn’t think of anything to say.
“Gretchen?” Dr. Rogers said.
Natasha snapped out of it, but she was so tired. When was the last time I slept?
“No, I don’t think she has that.”
“We stopped the test as a precaution, but an EEG is effective at diagnosing brain disorders,” Dr. Rogers said.
“We couldn’t find you, so we did some checking and found a phone number for a Rick Watson—”
“Did you call him?” Natasha said, cutting Dr. Rogers off.
“No, we couldn’t get in touch, but we left a message.”
Damn it. This complicates matters, Natasha thought.
“Ellen and Rick are not on the best of terms,” Natasha said.
Dr. Rogers nodded.
“Since Mrs. Watson isn’t responding, I need you to allow another, more specialized examination.”
“You have my authorization,” Natasha said.
As Dr. Rogers walked away, Natasha turned around in time to see Nigel go back into the room.