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Sophie turned when she heard a noise from inside the doorway where Boris had walked off and disappeared. It was the sound of rolling wheels. Over the floor.
Boris and another man stepped in again. The other man, younger and slight, wore all black; a black T-shirt, black jeans and boots, and dragged behind him a black four-wheel suitcase.
Heavy. It had weight.
What was it? Sophie wondered. Her eyes widened as they approached, her heart started pounding, and Nikolai looked at his mother, confused. Where was his brother? Where was Ivan? They paid the money.
What could this be? His things? What things?
“Here you go,” Boris said, and stopped in front of them.
The second man righted the suitcase, turned, and walked back toward the Exit sign.
Sophie stared for a moment in silence. The suitcase handle slowly retracted.
“What is it?” she said, and looked up at Boris.
“Your son,” he said.
Sophie looked down. Liquid dripped from the bottom zipper to the warehouse floor. It formed a puddle the size of a quarter. It was dark. It was blood.
“What are you saying?” she said softly and sunk to her knees. “You’re monsters.” She reached out and touched the nylon. “You’re monsters! This is not him! This is not my son!”
Tears cascaded down Nikolai’s cheeks.
CHAPTER 4
THE DOCTOR FELT like her life was ending; her entire purpose, her precious patients who relied on her company to care for them, to protect them in their final weeks, in their final days, were now exposed to a vicious new threat.
And it was her fault. The company’s files were not secure.
Hernandez and Morse left their cards and she walked them out, reeling.
A stranger, or strangers, had hacked in and stolen her patients’ files? Either that, or someone in her office? From the inside? Someone she trusted? To sell the information or use it themselves?
She felt faint and sick to her stomach.
Back in her study, she sat at her desk and logged onto Axis, the software system that stored the appointments, billing, and files. Her fingertips flew over the keyboard, changing usernames, passwords, security questions, and codes.
The detectives advised her to lock out everyone. Even the people she trusted, they said, as soon as she could.
As she did, she made a call.
“Elena, it’s Dr. Parks,” she said, when Elena picked up the phone in the office.
Elena Gomez, the doctor’s secretary, handled calls and scheduling. For a year, she’d arrived to work early daily, without fail, and left the office well after five. She ate at her desk. She had been the doctor’s first hire and only employee who showed up throughout the whole pandemic, despite the doctor’s pleas to stay home. Elena insisted that patients needed caring hospice more than ever. They had to stay open. They had to serve the dying at home.
“We have a problem,” the doctor started. “I need you to shut the office down now. And go home.”
“Now?” said Elena. “It’s only two.”
“Leave for the weekend, and call me tonight. I’ll explain.”
“Is everything okay?” Elena said, worried.
“No, not really. Call me when you get home. And Elena?”
“Yes?”
