Chapter 3 - THE CAMERA BLIND SPOT
The security system had never failed before.
Not once.
Pacific Ridge treated generals, intelligence officers, wounded special operators, and foreign military advisers. Every hallway was monitored. Every entry was logged. Every blind spot had been eliminated after a classified breach six years earlier.
Yet Ranger had appeared on a hallway camera while officially locked inside the K9 facility three buildings away.
Then the entire system went dark.
Dr. Lawson picked up her phone.
“I’m calling security.”
“No.”
She stared at me.
“No?”
I grabbed the photograph from her desk and folded it.
“Call them in five minutes.”
“Why?”
“Because whoever placed this under your door wants us to react.”
Her lips parted.
“You sound like you’ve done this before.”
I didn’t answer.
I opened her office door.
The corridor lights remained on, but the atmosphere had changed.
Too quiet.
No footsteps.
No carts rolling.
No voices from the nurses’ station.
I stepped into the hallway.
Ranger was gone.
Mercer stood near the elevator, speaking to two military police officers.
He turned the moment he saw me.
The officers looked my way.
I kept walking.
“Ms. Carter,” Mercer called.
I stopped.
He approached slowly.
“Security footage failed for ninety-three seconds.”
“I noticed.”
“So did someone else.”
He held up his phone.
A grainy still image showed Ranger standing outside Lawson’s office.
“You know how he got here?”
“No.”
“He was not supposed to be in this building.”
“That sounds like a question for Sergeant Barrett.”
“I asked him.”
“And?”
Mercer’s eyes narrowed.
“Barrett says Ranger never left the kennel.”
I glanced toward the ceiling camera.
Its red light had returned.
Mercer followed my gaze.
“You’re checking whether we’re being recorded.”
“I work in a hospital.”
“That isn’t a hospital habit.”
I forced a tired smile.
“You’re imagining things.”
“Am I?”
He took one step closer.
“Because Captain Rachel Donovan had the same habit.”
The name struck harder than it should have.
Mercer saw it.
His voice softened.
“She always checked exits, cameras, reflective surfaces. She never sat with her back to a door.”
“I don’t know who that is.”
“Yes, you do.”
A silence passed between us.
Nearby, a patient moaned inside a recovery room.
I used the sound as an excuse to move.
Mercer caught my wrist.
Not hard.
But firm.
My body reacted before my mind did.
I rotated my arm, broke his grip, stepped behind his shoulder, and positioned his elbow exactly where one small movement could dislocate it.
The military police officers reached for their weapons.
I released Mercer immediately.
No one moved.
Mercer looked at his arm.
Then at me.
His expression no longer held curiosity.
It held recognition.
“That technique,” he said quietly, “was taught to Ghost Unit.”
I stepped back.
“He grabbed me.”
One officer said, “Colonel?”
Mercer raised a hand.
“Stand down.”
His gaze stayed on me.
“Ghost Unit lost twelve people in Afghanistan.”
I swallowed.
“I’m sorry.”
“Only one body was never recovered.”
My phone vibrated again.
Unknown number.
CHECK THE EAST STAIRWELL. COME ALONE.
I looked up.
Mercer was watching my face.
“What is it?”
“Nothing.”
I walked away.
This time he did not stop me.
I reached the east stairwell three minutes later.
The door opened with a soft metal click.
Inside, the lights were off.
A medical folder lay on the landing.
I picked it up.
My name was written across the tab.
EMILY CARTER.
Inside were blood tests I had never taken.
Brain scans I had never seen.
A DNA analysis dated two weeks earlier.
At the bottom, one sentence had been highlighted.
May you like
SUBJECT MATCHES CAPTAIN RACHEL DONOVAN: 99.98%.
Then I heard the door close behind me.
