Marcus Vance.
The other carried a black case.
“You should have taken Mercer too,” the second man said.
“He went through customer service.”
“Did he see the pass?”
“No.”
“Did you recover the drive?”
“No.”
A pause.
“Then Apollo still has it.”
“We'll get it.”
“You have until morning.”
“What happens if she talks?”
The man smiled.
“She won't.”
“Why?”
“Because she thinks the drive contains her mother's medical records.”
My heart pounded.
Daniel's hand closed around my wrist.
Don't move.
The men left.
We waited.
Then Daniel whispered:
“We need that drive.”
I nodded.
“And now we know why.”
“Why?”
“Because whatever is on it is worth killing for.”
THE FILE ELENA LEFT BEHIND
We found Apollo two days later.
Not at the rehabilitation center.
Not at the hospital.
Not at an airport.
She was in a small apartment above a closed pharmacy.
The door was unlocked.
Daniel went first.
I followed.
“Apollo?”
No answer.
We searched the living room.
Kitchen.
Hallway.
Bedroom.
Then I heard breathing.
“Apollo?”
A small voice answered.
“Uncle Sam?”
I nearly collapsed.
She was sitting on the floor beside the bed.
Her hair was tangled.
Her sweatshirt was dirty.
There was a bruise on her wrist.
But she was alive.
I dropped beside her.
She threw herself into my arms.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then she whispered:
“I knew you'd come.”
I closed my eyes.
“Of course I would.”
“They told me you weren't my guardian.”
“They lied.”
“They showed me paperwork.”
“I know.”
“They said Mom signed it.”
“She didn't.”
Apollo pulled away.
“They said she wanted me somewhere else.”
I looked at her.
“She didn't.”
“How do you know?”
“Because she told me.”
Apollo stared.
“What did she say?”
“That I was supposed to protect you.”
She began crying.
Daniel turned away.
He gave us privacy.
After several minutes, Apollo wiped her face.
“I still have it.”
“The drive?”
She nodded.
“Where?”
Apollo pulled off one sneaker.
The USB drive fell into my hand.
I stared at her.
“You hid it in your shoe?”
“They checked my bag.”
“Who?”
“The men.”
“What did they ask?”
“They wanted the gray folder.”
“Did they hurt you?”
She hesitated.
“Not much.”
My anger rose.
Daniel crouched.
“Apollo, listen to me. You did the right thing. But we need to know everything.”
She nodded.
“My mother gave me the drive.”
“When?”
“Three days before she died.”
“Why?”
“She said I had to hide it.”
“What did she say was on it?”
Apollo looked at me.
“She said it could hurt people.”
“Which people?”
“I don't know.”
Daniel brought over an isolated laptop.
We inserted the drive.
The files were encrypted.
Daniel bypassed the first layer.
Then the second.
Then a third.
Hundreds of documents appeared.
Medical records.
Transportation records.
Court orders.
Passenger manifests.
Names of children.
Names of guardians.
Dates.
Locations.
And something that made my blood turn cold.
Children had been transferred across state lines under medical emergency classifications.
Their guardian records were changed.
Their identities were altered.
Some were declared abandoned.
Some were assigned to private rehabilitation centers.
Others simply disappeared.
Daniel opened a spreadsheet.
“Look at the timestamps.”
The changes were happening minutes before flights.
Just like mine.
Someone wasn't hacking random records.
Someone was controlling the transportation system.
Apollo stared at the screen.
“That boy.”
She pointed to a photograph.
A child of about ten.
Hospital bracelet.
Thin face.
Dark hair.
“Who?”
“He was at Mom's hospice.”
“You're sure?”
“Yes.”
“Did you speak to him?”
“No.”
“What was his name?”
“I don't know.”
Daniel zoomed in.
The image metadata contained a name.
EVAN COLE.
But another document identified him differently.
SAMUEL MERCER.
I felt dizzy.
“That's my name.”
Daniel nodded.
“They were creating duplicate identities.”
“Why?”
“To move people through the system without triggering normal custody checks.”
Apollo stared at the screen.
“Why would they do that?”
“Because medical transfers are trusted,” Daniel said.
He opened another file.
A list of transportation companies.
Fourteen states.
Thirty-seven children.
Twenty-one guardians.
Seven deaths.
“Jesus.”
Daniel's voice was barely audible.
“What?”
“This is bigger than Halcyon.”
“How much bigger?”
“National.”
I stared at the files.
Then I saw a video.
ELENA MERCER — PERSONAL MESSAGE.
I clicked it.
My sister appeared.
She was sitting in the hospice room.
She looked exhausted.
But her eyes were steady.
“If you're watching this, they found Apollo.”
My throat closed.
Elena continued.
“I don't know how long I have.”
She took a breath.
“The records I copied show that vulnerable minors are being moved through medical transportation networks under false identities.”
She looked directly at the camera.
“They are not simply stealing children.”
A pause.
“They are erasing them.”
Apollo covered her mouth.
Elena continued.
“They create a legal vacuum around a child. They remove the guardian from the system. Then they transfer the child somewhere private.”
She lowered her voice.
“I found this because I was auditing a medical transport contract.”
Her expression changed.
“Then I found Apollo's name.”
I froze.
Apollo whispered:
“Why?”
Elena answered the question on the screen.
“Because Apollo's identity was created before I adopted her.”
Apollo looked at me.
I didn't speak.
Elena continued.
“I adopted Apollo when she was three years old. I never told her everything because I wanted her to have a normal life.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“She was one of the children they couldn't erase.”
The video paused.
Then continued.
“I found her original records.”
A file appeared.
“Her biological parents died in an accident. But before their deaths, someone had already flagged Apollo's medical identity.”
Elena leaned toward the camera.
“That means someone inside the system knew she existed.”
Then she whispered:
“If they come for her, they aren't trying to take a random child.”
“They are trying to recover evidence.”
The video ended.
Apollo was crying.
“Why didn't Mom tell me?”
I pulled her close.