Chapter 4 - ELEVEN CHILDREN, TWENTY-SEVEN NAMES
Samuel Bennett did not deny being in the photograph.
That frightened Manon more than anything.
He stood beneath the flickering basement light, staring at the younger version of himself.
Twenty-three years had passed since that photograph was taken.
His hair had turned white.
His hands had become unsteady.
His face carried the deep lines of a man who had spent too many nights awake.
But the eyes were the same.
Manon recognized them immediately.
“Tell me you didn't know,” she whispered.
Bennett looked at her.
“I knew there were children here.”
“Did you know what was happening to them?”
“Not at first.”
Elias laughed bitterly.
“That's what they all say.”
Laurent stepped between them.
“Everyone needs to calm down.”
Manon turned toward him.
“My son is missing. My entire childhood was a lie. And the police officer who's been protecting me may have helped the people who destroyed my family.”
She pointed toward Bennett.
“Don't tell me to calm down.”
Laurent said nothing.
Bennett slowly lowered himself into a chair.
“I was twenty-two when I joined the department,” he began. “I believed the uniform meant something. I believed the people above me were honorable.”
He looked toward the medical table.
“St. Agnes was supposed to be a temporary shelter for children whose parents couldn't care for them.”
Elias folded his arms.
“Tell her about the transfers.”
Bennett closed his eyes.
“Children were being moved without proper court orders. Some went to wealthy families. Others disappeared into private institutions.”
Manon's stomach twisted.
“You're talking about selling children.”
Bennett nodded.
“Yes.”
The word hung in the air.
He continued.
“Some of the children had living parents. Parents who had been told their babies died at birth. Others were taken from families struggling with poverty, addiction, or homelessness.”
Manon felt sick.
“Why would anyone do that?”
“Money. Influence. And the belief that powerful people had the right to decide which families deserved children.”
Elias stepped forward.
“They called it the Briar Glen Placement Initiative.”
Laurent frowned.
“I've never heard of it.”
“Because it was never officially registered,” Elias said. “The paperwork was hidden inside charitable donations, hospital transfers, and sealed adoption files.”
Bennett nodded.
“The twenty-seven names belong to people involved in different parts of the operation.”
Manon remembered the list.
The mayor.
The doctor.
The school principal.
The business owners.
“What about me?”
Elias looked at her.
“You were the child who saw everything.”
Manon stared at him.
“What did I see?”
He hesitated.
“The night before we disappeared, you found a ledger in the director's office.”
“What ledger?”
“A book containing the real names of every child who passed through St. Agnes. Their birth parents. Their new identities. The money exchanged.”
Manon shook her head.
“I don't remember.”
“You hid it.”
“Where?”
Elias looked toward the wall.
“That's what they want to know.”
Laurent stepped forward.
“Who?”
Before Elias could answer, a sharp electronic beep sounded.
His face changed.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small phone.
A message glowed on the screen.
YOU HAVE UNTIL 4:00 P.M.
Beneath it was a photograph.
Noah.
He was sitting on a wooden chair in an unfamiliar room.
He appeared unharmed.
But his eyes were red from crying.
Manon reached for the phone.
“My baby.”
Elias pulled it away.
“Manon, listen.”
“Give me that!”
“They're watching everything we do.”
“Who?”
Elias looked toward Bennett.
“The people who survived the original investigation.”
Bennett's jaw tightened.
“Richard Hale.”
Elias nodded.
“And others.”
Laurent took out his radio.
“We need to trace that message.”
Elias shook his head.
“They've been preparing for this longer than you understand.”
Manon stepped toward him.
“Why now? Why after twenty-three years?”
Elias's expression softened.
“Because someone recently discovered that the ledger still exists.”
“Who?”
He hesitated.
“Your mother.”
Manon froze.
“Evelyn is dead.”
“I know.”
“Then what are you talking about?”
Elias looked away.
“Before she died, Evelyn found something in your childhood belongings. She contacted a journalist. She wanted to expose everything.”
Manon's throat tightened.
“She never told me.”
“She was afraid.”
“Of what?”
Elias looked directly into her eyes.
“That the people who once took you would come back for Noah.”
Manon stared at the photograph on the phone.
“Then why didn't she go to the police?”
Bennett answered quietly.
“Because the police were part of it.”
Nobody spoke.
A second message arrived.
This time, it contained only a location.
BRIAR GLEN GENERAL HOSPITAL — WEST WING
And beneath it:
BRING MANON. NO POLICE.
Laurent shook his head.
“It's a trap.”
Elias nodded.
“Yes.”
Manon wiped the tears from her face.
“Then we go anyway.”
Bennett stood.
“Manon—”
She turned toward him.
“You had twenty-three years to tell me the truth.”
His face crumpled.
“I know.”
“You don't get to tell me what to do anymore.”
She looked at Laurent.
“Get me to that hospital.”
As they hurried toward the stairs, Elias caught her arm.
“There's something else you need to know.”
Manon stopped.
“What?”
His voice dropped.
“The woman who took Noah knows where the ledger is.”
“Who is she?”
Elias looked at the photograph of the eleven children.
Then he pointed to a little girl standing behind Manon.
A child with blond braids and a serious expression.
“Her name was Clara.”
Manon stared.
“She was one of us?”
Elias nodded.
“And according to the official records, she died in the hospital fire.”
He swallowed.
“But Clara didn't die.”
Manon's heart pounded.
“Then where has she been?”
May you like
Elias looked toward the chapel entrance.
“Working for the people who took us.”
