Chapter 2 - The Nurse Who Disappeared After Asking One Question“KENDALL, IF SOMEONE SENT YOU EMILY PARKER'S NAME, YOU NEED TO TELL ME EXACTLY WHAT THEY SAID.”
My father's voice sounded different.
I had heard him negotiate with executives, calm frightened employees, and speak to reporters during difficult company announcements.
He rarely sounded afraid.
But when I called him from Seat 2A and mentioned Emily Parker, something changed.
“Dad, who is she?”
Silence.
Then I heard a chair scrape across the floor.
“Where did you hear that name?”
“Someone texted me.”
“What number?”
“Unknown.”
“What did the message say?”
I read both messages aloud.
When I finished, he didn't speak for several seconds.
Finally, he said, “Kendall, don't respond to that number.”
“Why?”
“Because we don't know who's contacting you.”
“Did something happen to her?”
Another pause.
Then he said something I wasn't expecting.
“Emily Parker worked at Harborview Community Hospital. She was one of the first people who warned us that something was wrong with the retirement accounts.”
I looked out the airplane window.
An airport vehicle moved slowly beneath the wing.
“Was she a nurse?”
“Yes. For twenty-three years.”
“Then why would somebody say she's gone?”
Dad exhaled.
“Because she disappeared six weeks ago.”
My stomach tightened.
“What do you mean, disappeared?”
“She stopped reporting to work. Her phone was disconnected. Her apartment was empty when her sister checked on her.”
“Did anyone call the police?”
“Of course. There's an active missing-person investigation.”
I leaned back in my seat.
A few minutes earlier, I'd been thinking about whether the airline had my favorite ginger cookies.
Now I was hearing about a missing nurse and millions of dollars belonging to retired hospital workers.
“Dad, what does that have to do with Douglas?”
“We don't know everything yet.”
“But you suspect something.”
“Yes.”
I looked down at the photograph.
Emily Parker appeared to be in her late forties, with warm brown eyes, shoulder-length dark hair, and a tired smile.
She was standing beside a little girl holding a red balloon.
The girl couldn't have been older than seven.
“Is that her daughter?”
Dad hesitated.
“I believe so. Her name is Lily.”
I stared at the image longer.
The child was smiling so brightly that she seemed completely unaware of the sadness surrounding her.
“Does Lily know where her mother is?”
“No, sweetheart.”
I swallowed.
That answer hurt more than I expected.
My mother had died when I was nine.
For five years, I had carried a small photograph of her inside my travel bag.
I knew what it felt like to wake up and forget for half a second that someone you loved wasn't coming home.
The thought of a little girl waiting for her missing mother made my chest ache.
“Dad, we have to help her.”
“We're cooperating with investigators.”
“That's not what I meant.”
“I know.”
He sounded tired.
Then he added, “There's something else you need to understand. Douglas Vanceburg is not simply a rich investor. His company manages several funds connected to hospitals, employee pensions, and community development projects.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning if those funds were mishandled, ordinary people could lose their retirement savings.”
I looked toward the passengers around me.
An elderly woman across the aisle was reading a paperback.
A man several rows behind me was helping his wife adjust her seat belt.
People who had worked, saved, and trusted someone else to protect their futures.
“Why didn't anyone stop him?”
“That's what we're trying to determine.”
A soft announcement came over the cabin speakers.
The captain explained that the passenger issue had been resolved and departure procedures would resume shortly.
Rachel approached my seat.
“Everything okay, Kendall?”
I nodded.
She smiled gently.
“We've verified your documents. You're all set.”
I lowered my voice.
“Rachel, can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Do you know anything about Harborview Community Hospital?”
Her smile faded.
“Why?”
“I'm just asking.”
Rachel hesitated.
“My mother worked there.”
I stared at her.
“As a nurse?”
“An operating room technician. Thirty-one years.”
“Is she retired?”
Rachel nodded.
“She retired last spring.”
I felt cold.
“Does she receive a pension?”
Rachel's expression changed completely.
“Yes.”
I almost told her everything.
But Dad had asked me not to discuss the investigation with strangers, and I understood why.
Unverified accusations could harm innocent people.
Still, I couldn't ignore the connection.
“Maybe you should tell her to check her latest retirement statement,” I said.
Rachel studied my face.
“Is there something you know?”
“Not enough.”
Before she could ask another question, the gate agent announced that boarding procedures were complete.
Rachel returned to her duties.
I called Dad again.
“Rachel's mother worked at Harborview.”
There was a pause.
“That's a coincidence worth noting, but don't draw conclusions yet.”
“I know.”
Then I asked, “Why did you want me in Dublin?”
My father had arranged this trip months earlier.
I was supposed to attend a weeklong youth engineering program sponsored by an international aviation education foundation.
It was something I had been excited about for nearly a year.
But suddenly, the timing seemed strange.
“Because you earned your place in that program,” he answered.
“Nothing else?”
“Nothing else.”
I wanted to believe him.
I mostly did.
Then he said, “Kendall, promise me something.”
“What?”
“Whatever happens, don't try to investigate this on your own.”
I looked at the anonymous messages.
“Okay.”
“And don't let anyone make you feel responsible for what happened today.”
“I'm not.”
“Good. I love you.”
“I love you too, Dad.”
The call ended.
A few minutes later, the aircraft pushed back from the gate.
I watched the terminal slowly drift away.
For the first time that afternoon, I began to relax.
Then my phone vibrated again.
Another unknown message.
This time, it contained a scanned page from a financial document.
At the bottom was a handwritten signature.
Thomas Ramsey.
May you like
And beneath it, a single sentence.
“YOUR FATHER APPROVED THE TRANSFER.”
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