THREE DAYS BEFORE

CHAPTER FOUR

Room Seventeen

Mara stared at the message.

YOU’RE LOOKING IN THE WRONG PLACE.

Her hands were trembling.

She read it again.

Then again.

The words didn't change.

For several seconds, she remained completely still.

The hospital room was silent except for the faint hum of the air conditioner.

Then she looked toward the door.

Detective Cole had only been gone for a few minutes.

Mara wondered if she should call him.

She didn't.

Something told her not to.

She picked up her phone from the floor.

The cracked screen made the message difficult to read, but it was still there.

She typed.

WHO ARE YOU?

She stared at the screen.

The message showed one gray tick.

No response.

She typed again.

WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?

This time, there was no delivery.

The phone had lost its signal.

Mara frowned.

She looked toward the window.

The sky outside was dark again.

Rain had started falling.

Slowly at first.

Then harder.

She moved closer to the glass.

The street below was almost empty.

The man she'd seen earlier was gone.

But something else caught her attention.

A black car was parked across the street.

Its headlights were off.

Mara stared at it.

She couldn't see through the windows.

She tried to convince herself that it meant nothing.

It was a hospital.

Cars came and went.

Someone could simply be waiting.

But the longer she watched, the more certain she became that the car had been there before.

She remembered seeing it when she first looked through the window.

Before she'd seen the man.

Mara stepped away.

She didn't want to think about it.

Her eyes returned to the photograph on her phone.

Elena.

The restaurant.

The key.

Room 17.

Mara enlarged the photograph again.

She studied every detail.

The table.

The glasses.

Elena's hands.

Her own face.

The blurred man behind her.

Then she noticed something.

The key wasn't lying directly on the table.

It was sitting on top of a folded piece of paper.

Mara zoomed in.

The image became pixelated.

She couldn't read the writing.

But she could make out a single word.

MERCER.

Mara frowned.

She had heard that name before.

She was sure of it.

But where?

She closed her eyes.

A memory came.

A hallway.

White walls.

Fluorescent lights.

Her own footsteps.

Someone walking behind her.

Mara opened her eyes.

The memory disappeared.

"No."

She pressed her fingers against her forehead.

The harder she tried to remember, the faster it slipped away.

She looked at the photograph again.

Mercer.

Room seventeen.

Victor Hayes.

Elena.

The pieces didn't fit.

Maybe they weren't supposed to.

A knock came at the door.

Mara jumped.

The door opened.

A nurse entered.

"Ms. Vale?"

Mara turned.

"Yes?"

The nurse smiled politely.

"I'm here to check your vitals."

Mara nodded.

The nurse walked toward the bed.

Mara watched her carefully.

There was something familiar about her.

Not her face.

Her voice.

That calm, measured tone.

It reminded Mara of something.

A room.

A table.

A man's voice.

"Again."

Mara's heart skipped.

The nurse looked at her.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes."

"You look frightened."

"I'm just tired."

The nurse checked the monitor.

"Your blood pressure is a little high."

Mara looked at her.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Was anyone here earlier?"

The nurse paused.

"Who?"

"Anyone."

"Your detective was here."

"Before him."

The nurse shook her head.

"Not that I know of."

Mara studied her face.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

The nurse finished checking the monitor.

Then she reached for the chart.

Mara noticed something clipped to it.

A small white card.

There was a number written on it.

17.

Mara's stomach tightened.

She reached out.

"What's that?"

The nurse looked down.

"This?"

"Yes."

"It's nothing."

"Why is there a seventeen?"

The nurse removed the card from the chart.

"I'll check with the records department."

She turned toward the door.

"Wait."

The nurse stopped.

Mara looked at her.

"What's your name?"

"Sarah."

"Sarah what?"

The nurse smiled.

"Sarah Mercer."

Mara stopped breathing.

The nurse walked out.

The door closed.

Mara stared at it.

Mercer.

The word from the photograph.

The number seventeen.

She reached for her phone.

The cracked screen lit up.

A new message had arrived.

UNKNOWN NUMBER

Mara opened it.

NOW YOU KNOW THE NAME.

Her stomach dropped.

She typed quickly.

SARAH MERCER?

The response came almost immediately.

NO.

Mara stared at the word.

Then another message appeared.

NOT HER.

She looked toward the door.

Her heart began pounding.

The nurse had lied.

Or the person messaging her was lying.

Either way, someone knew exactly what she was doing.

Another message appeared.

ROOM 17.

Mara swallowed.

She typed:

WHERE?

The reply came.

YOU'VE BEEN THERE BEFORE.

Mara dropped the phone onto the bed.

She couldn't breathe.

The hallway memory returned.

White walls.

Fluorescent lights.

A metal door.

Room seventeen.

Her own hand reaching toward the handle.

Then—

nothing.

A sharp pain spread through her head.

Mara closed her eyes.

The memory became clearer.

Someone was beside her.

A man.

She couldn't see his face.

But she could hear his voice.

"You're not supposed to remember this."

Mara opened her eyes.

She was breathing heavily.

The hospital room seemed to spin.

She looked at the door.

She needed to find Room 17.

Not tomorrow.

Not later.

Now.

She pulled the blanket aside and stood.

Her legs felt weak.

She grabbed the IV pole and slowly walked toward the door.

The hallway outside was quiet.

A nurse pushed a cart several meters away.

Mara waited until she disappeared around the corner.

Then she moved.

She didn't know where she was going.

But something inside her seemed to remember.

Left.

Then right.

Then another corridor.

She passed several doors.

Rooms 11.

12.

13.

She kept walking.

14.

15.

16.

Mara stopped.

At the end of the corridor was a gray metal door.

There was no room number on it.

She approached slowly.

Her heart was pounding.

She reached for the handle.

Locked.

Mara stepped back.

A sound came from behind her.

She turned.

Nothing.

The corridor was empty.

She looked back at the door.

There was a small rectangular panel beside it.

A keypad.

Mara stared at it.

She had never seen it before.

Or maybe she had.

Her fingers moved before she could think.

She entered four numbers.

0317.

The keypad beeped.

Mara froze.

She didn't know why she had chosen those numbers.

Then the lock clicked.

The door opened.

Mara stared into the darkness beyond it.

A cold draft touched her face.

She stepped inside.

The room was empty.

Almost.

There was a single desk.

A chair.

Several filing cabinets.

And a large observation window overlooking another room.

Mara walked toward it.

The glass reflected her face.

Pale.

Frightened.

Confused.

She turned on the desk lamp.

The light flickered.

Then stayed on.

A folder sat in the center of the desk.

Her name was written across it.

MARA VALE

Mara couldn't move.

Slowly, she reached for the folder.

Inside were photographs.

Dozens of them.

Some showed her alone.

Some showed Elena.

Others showed people she didn't recognize.

There were dates beneath each photograph.

Some were recent.

Others were years old.

Mara's hands shook as she turned the pages.

Then she saw one photograph that made her stop.

It showed Mara sitting in a chair.

Her eyes were closed.

There were wires attached to her temples.

A man stood beside her.

His face had been cut out of the photograph.

Mara stared at it.

"No."

She turned the page.

Another photograph.

Elena.

Sitting in the same chair.

Her eyes were closed.

Wires attached to her head.

Mara's breathing stopped.

Beneath the photograph was a handwritten note.

SUBJECT TWO — MEMORY RESPONSE UNSTABLE.

Mara's fingers went cold.

She turned another page.

A photograph of a young man.

SUBJECT THREE.

Another.

A woman.

SUBJECT FOUR.

Then another photograph.

An empty chair.

Beneath it:

SUBJECT ONE — TERMINATED.

Mara dropped the folder.

Pages scattered across the floor.

She backed away.

"This isn't real."

A sound came from the observation room.

A chair moving.

Mara froze.

Someone was inside.

She stared through the glass.

At first, she saw nothing.

Then a figure slowly stepped into view.

A man.

He stood with his back toward her.

Mara couldn't see his face.

But she recognized the dark band around his wrist.

The same one from the photograph.

The man turned.

Mara stepped backward.

She knew him.

She didn't know how.

She didn't know from where.

But she knew him.

His lips moved.

Mara couldn't hear him through the glass.

Then he raised one hand.

He pointed toward the folder on the floor.

Mara looked down.

A single photograph had landed face-up.

She picked it up.

It showed Elena.

But this photograph was different.

Elena wasn't sitting in the chair.

She was standing beside it.

And next to her was Mara.

Both of them were looking directly at the camera.

On the back of the photograph, someone had written a date.

Three days before Elena's death.

Mara's blood ran cold.

She turned the photograph over again.

There was another line beneath the date.

THE FIRST MEMORY WAS NEVER YOURS.

The lights suddenly went out.

Mara gasped.

The room went completely dark.

Then she heard the metal door behind her lock.

Click.

She ran toward it.

The handle wouldn't move.

"Help!"

No answer.

She slammed her hands against the door.

"Help me!"

Nothing.

Then her phone vibrated.

Mara slowly pulled it from her pocket.

The screen illuminated the darkness.

One new message.

UNKNOWN NUMBER

NOW ASK YOURSELF WHO YOU WERE BEFORE MARA.

Mara stared at the words.

Behind the observation glass, the man's silhouette was gone.

And somewhere in the darkness behind her—

a voice whispered her name.

"Mara."

She turned.

Nothing.

Then the voice came again.

Closer.

"Mara."

She stopped breathing.

Because this time—

she recognized the voice.

It was Elena.