Chapter 5 - Cole
Cole.
My three-year-old nephew.
The cup Ellie reached toward belonged to him.
The seat beside it was his.
And when I replayed the video for the twentieth time, I finally saw something I had missed.
Linda wasn’t watching Ellie.
She was watching the cup.
Cole’s cup.
Before lunch, Linda had filled it herself.
Purple plastic.
Apple juice.
Then Ellie reached toward it.
Linda reacted immediately.
Not because Ellie touched something forbidden.
Because Ellie was about to drink from Cole’s cup.
Dad saw it too.
“This wasn’t punishment.”
“Then why throw coffee?”
“To stop her.”
My stomach turned.
“From drinking juice?”
Dad’s face said what neither of us wanted to say.
We needed the cup.
Police had collected the mug.
Not Cole’s plastic cup.
Gary’s house had already been cleaned.
But the video showed Dana taking Cole home afterward.
I called her.
“Do you still have his cup?”
She checked the diaper bag.
“Yes.”
“Don’t wash it.”
“Why?”
“Bring it to Dad.”
We arranged independent testing.
Not Mercer Diagnostics.
A certified forensic lab Dad had used professionally.
The preliminary result arrived the following evening.
The juice contained a prescription sedative.
Small amount.
Potentially dangerous for a toddler depending on dose.
I stared at the report until the words blurred.
“Linda drugged Cole?”
Maybe.
But why?
Dana broke down.
Cole had been having strange episodes for months.
Sleepiness.
Vomiting.
Confusion.
Doctors couldn’t identify the cause.
Always after visits with Linda.
Dana had blamed food sensitivities.
Now she understood.
Police reopened everything.
Linda’s attorney stopped calling the coffee incident accidental.
Now it was a “misunderstanding during a medical situation.”
That shift mattered.
Then Linda made a new claim.
She said Cole had a neurological condition requiring medication.
Dana exploded.
“He does not!”
Gary produced supposed medical records.
Signed by a pediatrician.
Dr. Samuel Mercer.
Another relative.
Ben’s uncle.
The family network was closing around itself.
But Dad kept focusing on one question.
“Why sedate Cole?”
Then Dana remembered something.
Every time Cole became sick, Gary insisted on taking him to Mercer Diagnostics.
Blood tests.
Cheek swabs.
Urine.
Repeated biological samples.
“Why?”
Dad opened Ellie’s hidden DNA report again.
Unknown Female B.
Then he looked at me.
“They’re not treating these children.”
“They’re testing them.”
“For what?”
He didn’t answer.
We obtained Cole’s records through Dana.
Genetic testing.
Repeated.
Comparisons against unnamed samples.
One test matched the same Unknown Female B used for Ellie.
Cole and Ellie were both being compared against the same woman.
Why?
They were cousins through Ben and Dana.
That made sense if the family was looking for an inherited trait.
But why secrecy?
Then a second file appeared.
Gary had tested Ben.
Dana.
Aaron.
All three children years earlier.
Same Unknown Female B.
Results:
Ben — no match.
Dana — no match.
Aaron — no match.
Ellie — partial familial match.
Cole — stronger familial match.
Dad stared.
“What does that mean?”
I looked at him.
“You tell me.”
He took a long breath.
“It means the woman they’re comparing everyone to may not be Caroline.”
“Then who?”
Dad looked toward the old photograph Dana found.
There was another woman standing behind my mother.
I had ignored her.
Older.
Dark hair.
Small scar above her eyebrow.
Dad knew her.
“Evelyn Shaw.”
“Who is she?”
My father’s voice dropped.
“The woman who gave birth to Caroline.”
My biological grandmother.
I had never known she existed.
“And why are the Mercers testing children against her?”
Dad’s expression changed.
“Because Evelyn Shaw disappeared with something worth hundreds of millions.”
May you like
Then he looked at Ellie’s results.
“And apparently they think one of these children can lead them to it.”
