Dr. Kenneth shook his head immediately.

“We have no record of any David Carter,” he said.

“I know my patient roster by heart, and that name has never been on our books.”

“He wouldn’t be under his real name,” Charles said, leaning forward.

“The Bellamy Group paid to put him here.”

“They would have used an alias to keep him hidden.”

At the mention of the Bellamy Group, Dr. Kenneth’s face lost all its remaining color.

He pulled his hands back from the desk as if the wood had suddenly turned boiling hot.

“I think you should leave,” he said, his voice trembling.

“Please, take your envelope and go.”

“We know he’s here, Dr. Kenneth,” I pleaded, stepping closer to his desk.

“My father is in this building, isn’t he?”

Dr. Kenneth looked up at me, a sudden look of realization crossing his face.

He stared at my eyes, my hair, the shape of my jaw.

“You,” he whispered, his eyes widening.

“You are his daughter.”

“Yes,” I said, tears burning the corners of my eyes.

“He is alive, isn’t he?”