Chapter 6 — Amy’s Missing Hour
Chapter 6 — Amy’s Missing Hour
The house went completely dark.
For three seconds, nobody moved.
Then the emergency lights came on.
Dim red lights along the hallway.
Enough to see.
Not enough to feel safe.
Robert raised his gun.
Teresa stood frozen beside the bedroom door.
Amy was gripping my arm.
And somewhere outside the house, Victor Lang was waiting.
“Connor,” Robert whispered.
“I know.”
“Where's the drive?”
I touched my pocket.
“Here.”
“Good.”
Victor's voice came through the darkness again.
“You have eight minutes.”
I looked at Teresa.
“You said he wanted the account.”
“He does.”
“Then why is he giving us eight minutes?”
“Because he thinks you're going to open it.”
I shook my head.
“He doesn't know about the trap.”
Teresa stared at me.
“He knows more than you think.”
Robert moved toward the window.
“Everyone downstairs.”
“Why?”
“Because if Victor wants the account, he won't leave until he gets it.”
I looked at Amy.
She was pale.
“You okay?”
She nodded.
But something about her expression bothered me.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Amy.”
She looked at me.
“I just feel dizzy.”
I reached for her.
She pulled away.
“I'm fine.”
“You're shaking.”
“I'm scared.”
I believed her.
At least I thought I did.
I had no reason not to.
That was the problem.
We moved into the vault.
Robert closed the steel door behind us.
The sound of the locking mechanism echoed through the room.
For the first time, we had a few moments of safety.
I placed the flash drive on the desk.
“What exactly is on this?”
Robert shook his head.
“Your father never let me see it.”
“Then how do we know it matters?”
“Because he told me that if you ever found it, you would have to make a choice.”
“What choice?”
Robert looked at Amy.
“Whether to expose everything.”
Amy swallowed.
“And if he does?”
“People will go to prison.”
“Who?”
Robert didn't answer.
I opened the laptop stored inside the vault.
The screen came on.
There was no internet connection.
No network.
Only one folder.
FOR CONNOR.
I clicked it.
A video file appeared.
I pressed play.
My father's face filled the screen.
For a second, I couldn't breathe.
He looked directly into the camera.
Older.
Tired.
But calm.
“Connor.”
I leaned closer.
“If you're watching this, then the people I feared have finally found you.”
I glanced at Robert.
He looked away.
My father's voice continued.
“I need you to understand something before you make your next decision.”
He paused.
“The account is not an inheritance.”
A second pause.
“It is evidence.”
I felt cold.
“The money inside it was never meant to be spent.”
My father looked down.
“It was collected from the people involved in Project Falcon.”
I stared at the screen.
“They believed they were hiding their money.”
“They were wrong.”
“The money was transferred into accounts I controlled.”
“Every transaction created a record.”
“Every record created a connection.”
“And every connection leads to a person.”
Amy whispered:
“Oh my God.”
My father continued.
“Victor believes the money belongs to him.”
“He is wrong.”
“Teresa believes she can protect you by controlling the account.”
“She is wrong too.”
My mother looked down.
Tears filled her eyes.
My father took a breath.
“The only person I trusted to understand the difference between protection and control was Amy.”
The room became silent.
Amy stared at the screen.
“What?”
My father's eyes softened.
“I met Amy once.”
“I watched how she treated my son when she believed nobody was watching.”
“That was enough.”
I reached for Amy's hand.
She squeezed mine.
My father continued.
“If you are watching this together, then I was right.”
My chest tightened.
“If you're watching this without her, stop.”
“Do not open the account.”
“Do not access the money.”
“Do not transfer anything.”
“Find Amy.”
The video ended.
The screen went black.
Nobody spoke.
Then Teresa whispered:
“He knew.”
I turned.
“Knew what?”
“That Amy would be the one.”
“The one what?”
“The one who could activate the evidence.”
I looked at Amy.
She looked confused.
“I don't understand.”
Teresa shook her head.
“Neither did I.”
A loud bang struck the steel door.
Amy jumped.
Robert raised his weapon.
Victor's voice followed.
“Six minutes.”
I stared at the door.
“He's getting impatient.”
“He knows the vault exists,” Robert said.
“How?”
“Someone told him.”
I looked at Teresa.
She shook her head.
“I didn't.”
I believed her.
That surprised me.
But then I remembered the photograph.
The account.
The flash drive.
Someone else knew.
Someone close enough to us to know exactly what we were doing.
My phone vibrated.
I looked at the screen.
Unknown number.
SHE KNOWS WHERE IT IS.
I frowned.
Another message appeared.
ASK AMY ABOUT THE HOUR SHE LOST.
I stopped breathing.
I looked at my wife.
“Amy?”
She looked at me.
“What?”
“What's the last thing you remember before we came here?”
She frowned.
“I don't know.”
“Think.”
“I was at the hospital.”
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
“Before that.”
She closed her eyes.
“I was with Frederick.”
“Then?”
“We went home.”
“Then?”
She opened her eyes.
“Nothing.”
I felt a chill.
“What do you mean, nothing?”
“I don't remember.”
Robert looked at her.
“How long?”
Amy shook her head.
“I don't know.”
I stepped closer.
“Try.”
She pressed her fingers against her temple.
“I remember leaving the hospital.”
“Then?”
“I remember getting into the car.”
“Then?”
She swallowed.
“I remember waking up.”
“Where?”
“At home.”
“When?”
She looked at me.
“I don't know.”
Teresa whispered:
“One hour.”
Everyone turned toward her.
“What?”
Teresa looked at Amy.
“You were missing for one hour.”
Amy's face went pale.
“How would you know?”
“Because I was looking for you.”
“When?”
“Yesterday afternoon.”
Amy shook her head.
“No.”
“You disappeared.”
“I didn't.”
“You did.”
Teresa looked at me.
“She left the hospital at 3:14.”
I stared.
“How do you know?”
“I had someone watching.”
“Who?”
She didn't answer.
I looked at Amy.
“Where were you at 4:14?”
“I don't know.”
“That is impossible.”
“I know.”
She began crying.
“I swear I don't know.”
I pulled her into my arms.
“We'll figure it out.”
But inside, fear was spreading.
Because there was something worse than my wife forgetting an hour.
Someone else remembered it.
Robert opened the laptop again.
“Hospital records.”
“What?”
“If Amy left at 3:14, there should be security footage.”
I nodded.
“Get it.”
Robert connected a backup drive.
The hospital cameras loaded.
We found the entrance.
3:13 p.m.
Amy appeared.
She was carrying Frederick.
She looked exhausted.
A nurse spoke to her.
Amy nodded.
Then she walked outside.
A black SUV waited near the curb.
I leaned closer.
“Amy?”
She stared at the screen.
“I don't remember that.”
A man stepped out of the SUV.
He wore a dark baseball cap.
He approached Amy.
They spoke.
Then he took Frederick.
I stood.
“What the hell?”
Amy covered her mouth.
“No.”
The footage continued.
Amy handed the baby over willingly.
Then the man said something.
Amy nodded.
She got into the SUV.
The vehicle drove away.
My blood ran cold.
“Pause.”
Robert froze the frame.
I zoomed in.
The man turned slightly.
I recognized him.
Mason.
My cousin.
I looked at Teresa.
She closed her eyes.
“I didn't know.”
“You knew he was involved.”
“Yes.”
“You knew he had been moving money.”
“Yes.”
“But you didn't know about this?”
“No.”
I turned toward Amy.
“Why would you get into a car with Mason?”
“I don't know.”
The footage continued.
The SUV disappeared.
Then, exactly one hour later, another camera showed Amy walking back into the hospital.
Alone.
No Mason.
No Frederick.
Just Amy.
She walked inside.
She looked confused.
She checked her phone.
Then she touched her forehead.
The footage ended.
I stared at the screen.
“That isn't normal.”
Robert nodded.
“No.”
“What happened during that hour?”
Nobody answered.
Then the laptop chimed.
A new file had appeared.
None of us had opened it.
The filename was:
AMY_4:00PM.mp4
I stared.
“That's impossible.”
Robert's face tightened.
“Someone planted it.”
I clicked it.
The screen showed a dark room.
Amy was sitting in a chair.
Her hands were free.
She wasn't tied up.
Across from her sat a man.
I couldn't see his face.
He placed a folder on the table.
Then he said:
“You have one choice.”
Amy on the screen looked frightened.
“What do you want?”
The man answered:
“Your husband.”
The video ended.
Amy screamed.
“That isn't me.”
I turned toward her.
“I know.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“I don't remember that.”
The vault door shook.
Victor shouted:
“Four minutes!”
Robert closed the laptop.
“We have to move.”
“Where?”
“There is another exit.”
“Where?”
“Behind the shelves.”
We moved quickly.
Robert pushed aside a cabinet.
A narrow passage appeared.
I looked at Amy.
“Go.”
She didn't move.
“Go!”
She stepped into the passage.
Teresa followed.
I stayed behind Robert.
“Who was that man?”
“I don't know.”
“You know something.”
“I know the voice.”
“Who?”
Robert looked at me.
“Your father's doctor.”
My stomach dropped.
“The doctor who signed my fake medical declaration?”
“Yes.”
“Dr. Nathan Cole.”
Robert nodded.
“He wasn't working for Teresa.”
“Then who?”
Robert looked toward the door.
“Victor.”
We entered the tunnel.
It led beneath the property and eventually opened behind an abandoned storage building.
Cold air hit my face.
We ran.
A black SUV sped away from the road.
Robert raised his weapon.
But he didn't fire.
“Why?”
“Because we're not sure who's inside.”
I watched the vehicle disappear.
Then I turned to Amy.
She was standing beside Teresa.
Both women looked shaken.
I walked toward my wife.
“Amy.”
She looked at me.
“I'm sorry.”
“For what?”
“I don't know.”
“You don't have to apologize.”
“I should remember.”
“You were manipulated.”
“But what if I told them something?”
“We don't know that you did.”
“What if I gave them the account?”
“You didn't.”
“How do you know?”
I didn't answer.
Because I wasn't sure.
Then I remembered the video.
The man had asked for me.
Not the account.
Not the money.
Me.
That meant something.
We returned to the house before dawn.
Daniel arrived with two investigators.
I showed them everything.
The hospital footage.
The video.
The messages.
The account.
The flash drive.
Daniel watched the recording of Amy in the room.
His face became grim.
“Where did this come from?”
“The vault.”
“Who had access?”
“Apparently everyone.”
He looked at Amy.
“Did you recognize the room?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
“Look carefully.”
She watched it again.
Then suddenly she whispered:
“The painting.”
“What?”
She pointed.
“In the background.”
A painting hung behind the man.
A landscape.
A mountain.
But there was something beneath it.
A logo.
I zoomed in.
The initials were unmistakable.
B.E.C.
Bradley Engineering & Construction.
Daniel stared.
“That room is inside your father's old headquarters.”
“But the building was demolished.”
“No.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“It wasn't.”
Daniel pulled out his phone.
He searched property records.
The old headquarters still existed.
It had been sold.
But never demolished.
The new owner was a holding company.
The beneficiary was hidden.
Daniel looked at me.
“Connor.”
“Yes?”
“The beneficiary is listed as…”
He stopped.
“Who?”
He showed me the screen.
I felt my stomach drop.
Amy Bradley.
She stared at the screen.
“I don't understand.”
Neither did I.
My wife owned the building where someone had interrogated her.
A building my mother had told me no longer existed.
A building my father had secretly preserved.
And an hour of Amy's life had disappeared inside it.
Then my phone vibrated.
One final message.
This time, there was no number.
Just a name.
ROBERT.
I opened it.
The message contained a single sentence.
Don't trust the woman standing beside you.
I looked up.
Robert was standing across the room.
Teresa was beside him.
Amy was beside me.
I stared at the message again.
My heart began pounding.
Who was the woman?
Teresa?
Amy?
Or someone else?
Then Robert's phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed.
“What?”
He listened.
Then slowly looked at me.
“What happened?”
His face was pale.
“Your father’s old headquarters just opened its security system.”
“Who opened it?”
Robert swallowed.
“The system recognized Amy's fingerprint.”
Amy went completely still.
“I've never been there.”
Nobody spoke.
Then Robert said the words that changed everything.
“Apparently…”
He looked directly at Amy.
“…the building doesn't think you're a stranger.”
“It thinks you're the owner.”
And somewhere inside that abandoned headquarters, a door had just unlocked.
A door that had been sealed for thirteen years.
A door my father had apparently intended only Amy to open.
I looked at my wife.
She looked terrified.
“I swear, Connor…”
I took her hand.
“I believe you.”
But for the first time, I realized that believing Amy and understanding Amy were two completely different things.
Because someone had taken one hour from her life.
Someone had used her fingerprint.
Someone had brought her to my father's hidden headquarters.
And someone had known, long before any of us did, that she would eventually become the person with the power to unlock everything.
The question was no longer what happened during Amy's missing hour.
May you like
The question was:
What had my father prepared for her to discover when she finally remembered it?
