Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 124341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
He descended the curved staircase and returned to the study with the broken furniture. Someone had thrown the pieces against the walls, which showed large dents and torn wallpaper. Pictures that had once hung there were now in shards on the floor. Perhaps the doctor himself had done this, but…Mark was almost certain it’d been Sam. The dents on the walls were deep.
What did he say to you, Sam?
Whatever it was, it’d broken him.
Whatever it was had brought out an explosion of violence. But Mark saw no blood, no evidence that a human had been hurt. The furniture and artwork had been the victims here.
In the corner, a mahogany file cabinet lay on its side, the top drawer smashed open, a pile of folders spilled out onto the floor. The doctor’s files. He knelt and picked up the open folder at the top of the stack. It didn’t list a name, but he recognized the picture. Sam.
Oh Jesus.
He opened it and flipped through, reading quickly the extensive list of surgeries and treatments, a lump filling his throat at the sheer number of them. Sam’s first operation had been when he was nine months old. It was a miracle he was still alive.
He glanced at the stack of files he’d set next to himself. Many of them featured red stickers on the front that said simply Deceased.
All these victims had been taken from the system under the guise that they were ADHM babies. They weren’t. From what he could tell, not one of them had actually tested positive for the disease. One of the files had fallen open, and the photo of a toddler met his eyes, a black-haired girl whose skin was mottled and blistered by whatever was done to her. Vomit threatened. Mark steeled his spine. Take in the information. React to it later.
He couldn’t take these files with him. He’d need to go to a judge immediately and get a warrant if they were going to be used as evidence. But he had to know what had been done to Sam, the others, to understand fully what he was dealing with here. The pure, undiluted evil. And he wanted to give Sam his history when he was ready. The man had been tortured. He deserved that much. Mark used his cell phone to take photos of each page, flipping quickly.
He slowed for a moment when he saw the report done on the experiment to his hair. An attempt to permanently lighten his coloring had been deemed a failure for the unusual color they’d achieved, more silver than blond. Mark could only guess at the reason for researching the ability to change the appearance of foster babies at birth… Dear Jesus, it was too sick and evil to comprehend. He felt empty. So empty. It reminded him of the cold, ruthless Nazi doctor Josef Mengele, who never received punishment for his heinous acts of brutality. Only he would have been proud of Heathrow’s work and even greatly outdone by these villains.
Mark’s hands rarely shook, but they did now as he returned the files to the drawer, leaving the file cabinet where it lay, another piece of broken furniture in a room full of destruction.
As he moved toward the door, his foot hit the edge of an open laptop obscured under a pile of loose papers. Mark picked it up and pressed the keypad. The home screen lit up, displaying an open email message. He began to scroll down to what looked like the top of a photo, but right before his eyes, the message blinked out, disappearing, just before the entire screen appeared to digitally melt. Had someone just remotely scrubbed the computer? Holy hell. Mark set the piece of equipment on the desk. Maybe computer techs would find something on it later, but he had a feeling it had been rendered useless.
Chapter Forty-Three
Autumn stood at the window, staring dispassionately—and mostly unseeing—out at the bleak, gray sky. Her mood reflected the weather. I miss you. Where are you?
Jak and Harper had taken Eddie for a walk on the shore to hunt sea creatures (per Eddie), and they’d be gone for a while. She had a feeling they’d left as much to hunt for the elusive Loch Ness Monster as to give Autumn some time alone, and she appreciated it.
She’d failed to convince Sam to stay and let her—and Jak, Harper, and Mark—help him. She’d tripped all over her words, grown desperate, gotten ahead of herself, pressured instead of relieved. She clenched her eyes shut, wishing she could go back in time and do better, say the things that would have brought him comfort, hope, instead of making him flee.
She pulled in a big breath and let it out slowly.
Regardless of whether Mark was able to find Sam or if he appeared on his own, it was time for Autumn to figure out her own life and whether she could return to it.