Chapter 15: Riverside
1038 Words
The next morning, Ethan woke up with a pounding headache.
He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as a dull pressure throbbed against his temples.
The blow he'd taken the day before hadn't caused any serious damage, but it clearly wasn't something he was going to recover from overnight.
He picked up his phone and checked the time.
It was almost nine.
Ethan got up, washed up, and sent Tom a message asking for the day off.
A few minutes later, Tom replied.
He already knew about what had happened.
Take the day off. Get some rest. Don't push yourself.
Ethan looked at the message and smiled faintly.
He set his phone aside.
He probably should have stayed in bed.
But less than half an hour later, the same clues started running through his head again.
Locker 314.
Three envelopes.
The patient list.
The altered information.
Give it to her.
And the one thing he still couldn't make sense of—
5:23 A.M.
Then there was the name that kept appearing in the records.
Riverside Private Clinic.
Ethan rolled onto his side.
Eventually, he sat up.
If he stayed home all day, he wasn't going to get anything done.
Riverside was still operating. Why not go there himself?
At the very least, he might be able to figure out where those records had come from.
Ethan opened his laptop.
He typed:
Riverside Private Clinic, Boston.
The search results came up quickly.
The clinic had moved to a new location some time ago.
And it had since been renamed Riverside Specialty Hospital.
The new location wasn't far from his apartment.
About a forty-minute drive.
Ethan stared at the map for a few seconds.
Then he closed the laptop, grabbed his jacket and backpack, and left.
Forty minutes later, Ethan parked outside Riverside Specialty Hospital.
He remained in the car for a moment, looking at the building in front of him.
It looked nothing like the old clinic he remembered.
The new Riverside Specialty Hospital was a modern building that had clearly been renovated. Medical signs marked the entrance, and through the glass doors, Ethan could see a bright, spacious lobby.
He got out and walked inside.
The faint smell of disinfectant hung in the air.
Several employees were working near the front desk, while a few patients sat quietly in the waiting area.
As soon as Ethan entered, something on a large advertising screen in the middle of the lobby caught his attention.
The screen was playing a promotional video for the hospital.
The image changed.
A man's portrait appeared on the screen.
Ethan stopped walking.
His eyes fixed on the face.
He knew him.
Alan Mercer.
Under the photograph was a brief introduction.
Dr. Alan Mercer
Neurology & Clinical Research
Ethan stood there for several seconds.
He had thought Alan Mercer was simply a doctor from an old case.
Someone who had once worked at Riverside Private Clinic years ago.
But now it was clear that Mercer wasn't just still practicing.
He appeared to be one of the hospital's most important figures.
Ethan looked away from the screen and walked toward the front desk.
“Hi.”
The receptionist looked up.
“Hi. How can I help you?”
“I'd like to speak with Dr. Mercer.”
The receptionist looked at him.
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No.”
Ethan paused.
“I'm working on a research project. I'd like to ask Dr. Mercer a few questions about some older clinical records.”
The receptionist nodded.
“What's your name?”
“Ethan Cole.”
She entered his name into the computer, then looked back at him.
“Do you have specific questions you're looking to ask?”
“Mostly about some older clinical research and patient observation records.”
The receptionist hesitated.
“Dr. Mercer is pretty busy. He may not have time.”
“I understand. I won't take long. If you could just ask him, I'd really appreciate it. It would help with my research.”
Ethan waited.
The receptionist nodded.
“Okay. Give me a minute. I'll check.”
“Thanks.”
She picked up the phone.
Ethan walked over to the nearby waiting area and sat down.
A few minutes later, the receptionist hung up.
“Dr. Mercer happens to have some time this afternoon.”
Ethan looked up.
“When?”
“About thirty minutes from now.”
She checked the computer again.
“He can give you an hour, but he has another appointment after that. If you're willing to wait, I can schedule you in.”
Ethan didn't hesitate.
“That works for me.”
“Okay. I'll put you down.”
“Thanks.”
The receptionist told him someone would come get him when it was time, then returned to her work.
Ethan sat back down.
He didn't say anything.
Instead, his attention shifted toward a bulletin board on the other side of the lobby.
It was covered with information about the hospital and its doctors.
He got up and walked over.
One of the displays was dedicated to Alan Mercer.
Ethan read through it carefully.
His medical background.
Clinical research.
Neurological disorders.
Treatment related to psychiatric conditions.
Years of clinical experience.
According to the information, Mercer had participated in several drug-related research projects and had spent years overseeing patient observation and follow-up evaluations.
Ethan's eyes narrowed.
He thought about the list inside the third envelope.
Patients.
Medication records.
Observation reports.
And that sentence.
“I've looked through it. Some of the information was changed.”
Ethan's brow tightened.
If those records had really come from Riverside...
He kept reading.
At the bottom of the display was another photograph.
Mercer again.
His current position was listed underneath.
Ethan stared at the photograph for a moment.
Mercer looked older than he had ten years ago.
But Ethan knew that face.
There was no mistaking him.
He was the same doctor whose name had appeared in Claire's old case.
Ethan took out his phone.
He checked the time.
Then he returned to his seat.
He didn't investigate anything else.
At least now, he was going to have the chance to ask Mercer some questions himself.
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