Chapter 9 - The Daughter He Thought He Lost
Arthur hit Rebecca before she could fire.
Not with his fist.
With his entire body.
He drove his shoulder into her and turned sideways so the baby remained protected against his chest.
Rebecca crashed into the wall.
The gun fell.
Hannah kicked it across the floor.
Police flooded the room.
“Hands!”
“On the ground!”
“Don’t move!”
Rebecca screamed as officers pinned her.
Arthur heard none of it.
He was staring at Hannah.
His daughter.
Twenty-six years old.
Dark hair tangled.
Face exhausted.
Eyes identical to the six-year-old girl in the photograph he had carried for decades.
Hannah stared back.
Neither moved.
Then she looked down.
“My baby.”
Arthur’s arms loosened.
Hannah crossed the room.
Her knees nearly collapsed.
He caught her with one arm.
For one impossible moment, Arthur Vance was holding both the daughter he had lost and the granddaughter he had just found.
Hannah began sobbing.
“I’m sorry.”
Arthur shook his head.
“No.”
“I left her.”
“No.”
“I left her alone.”
“You came back.”
“I was trying to keep her safe.”
“You came back.”
Arthur repeated it like a prayer.
Hannah reached for the baby.
Arthur carefully opened the thermal wrap.
Her tiny face appeared.
Hannah made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a cry.
“Oh, Sophie.”
Arthur looked at her.
“Sophie?”
Hannah nodded through tears.
“Sophie Emily Vance.”
Arthur stopped.
“Vance?”
“I never legally changed my name.”
His eyes filled.
Hannah touched the dog tag around his neck.
“Mom told me once.”
“What?”
“That your name was the first thing I was given that belonged to someone who loved me.”
Arthur broke.
He lowered his forehead to hers.
“I loved you every day.”
“I know.”
“Every day.”
“I know now.”
Detective Cole entered.
“We need to move.”
The baby needed immediate medical evaluation.
So did Hannah.
She had delivered prematurely less than forty-eight hours earlier and had apparently spent most of that time hiding, running, and trying to gather evidence.
An ambulance transported them back to St. Jude.
Arthur rode beside Sophie.
Hannah refused to be separated from them.
I traveled in the ambulance as well.
For the first few minutes, nobody spoke.
Then Arthur asked the question that had haunted him.
“Why didn’t you come to me?”
Hannah looked at Sophie.
“I wanted to.”
“You found me.”
“Three months ago.”
He swallowed.
“You drove past my house.”
“Four times.”
“Nora said twice.”
“She only knew about two.”
A small smile.
Arthur almost laughed.
“What stopped you?”
Hannah looked down.
“Fear.”
“Of me?”
“No.”
She looked at him.
“Of needing you.”
Arthur frowned.
“Explain.”
“My whole life, people disappeared.”
Her voice was soft.
“Mom. Grandpa. Foster families. Friends.”
She rubbed her wrist.
“When I found out you’d been sending letters all those years, I wanted to believe you were different.”
“I was.”
“I know.”
“But?”
“What if I came to your door and you looked at me like a stranger?”
Arthur closed his eyes.
“Hannah.”
“What if you had a wife? Kids? A whole life?”
“I don’t.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“You could’ve knocked.”
“I almost did.”
She looked at him.
“Then Rebecca found me.”
Arthur’s expression hardened.
“When?”
“Six weeks ago.”
“What did she want?”
“The recording.”
“You found it?”
Hannah nodded.
“At St. Catherine’s.”
“Emily hid it.”
“Yes.”
“Where is it?”
Hannah gave him a tired look.
“Not with me.”
Richard met us when we returned.
The moment Hannah saw him, all warmth vanished from her face.
He took one step.
“Hannah.”
“Stay away from me.”
Richard stopped.
Arthur positioned himself beside her.
Richard looked devastated.
“I thought you were dead.”
Hannah laughed coldly.
“You seem to think that about a lot of relatives.”
Richard accepted the blow.
“I deserve that.”
“You deserve worse.”
“Hannah—”
“You put me in foster care.”
“I was trying—”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“Don’t tell me what you were trying to do.”
Richard closed his mouth.
“I was nine years old.”
Her voice trembled.
“You told me we were going on a trip. Then you left me in a social worker’s office and said you’d be back before dinner.”
Richard’s face crumpled.
“You never came back.”
“I couldn’t.”
“You chose not to.”
He looked down.
“Yes.”
Hannah’s eyes filled.
“I waited until midnight.”
Arthur’s fists clenched.
Richard whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Hannah stepped closer.
“You don’t get to apologize until I’m done being angry.”
Richard nodded.
“Fair.”
“That could take years.”
“I have whatever years are left.”
Hannah stared.
Then she turned away.
Sophie was placed back into intensive care.
Her temperature had fallen dangerously low but recovered after controlled warming.
Her oxygen levels stabilized.
No signs indicated Rebecca had administered anything harmful.
For the first time all day, I allowed myself to breathe.
Hannah sat beside the incubator.
Arthur beside her.
They looked like two strangers trying to discover how to be family.
“What do I call you?” Hannah asked.
Arthur smiled faintly.
“Arthur works.”
“You’re my father.”
“I know.”
“Dad sounds weird.”
“I imagine.”
She smiled.
“Can I try?”
His eyes filled.
“Whenever you want.”
Hannah looked at Sophie.
“Dad.”
Arthur looked away immediately.
Hannah laughed softly.
“Did I break you?”
“Pretty much.”
For ten minutes, the world felt gentle.
Then Detective Cole entered.
He carried a laptop.
“Hannah, we need to discuss the flash drive Nora gave us.”
Hannah nodded.
“Did you open it?”
“Yes.”
Arthur leaned forward.
“What’s on it?”
“Documents. Photographs. Bank records.”
Richard looked worried.
“And?”
Cole stared at Hannah.
“A video.”
Her expression changed.
“You found that too?”
“Different video.”
“What video?”
Cole turned the laptop.
The image showed a convenience store parking lot.
Timestamp: three nights earlier.
Hannah entered frame.
She was visibly pregnant.
Another person approached her.
A man.
They spoke.
Then the man handed Hannah an envelope.
Arthur leaned closer.
“Who is that?”
Hannah went pale.
“I don’t know.”
Cole paused the footage.
“Look carefully.”
Richard suddenly stood.
“No.”
Arthur looked at him.
“You know him?”
Richard stared at the screen.
The man had gray hair, a cane, and a scar running from his ear to his jaw.
Richard whispered,
“Thomas.”
Arthur’s blood went cold.
“My father?”
Hannah stared at him.
“You said he was dead.”
Richard shook his head slowly.
“I said he disappeared.”
Cole resumed the video.
The old man turned toward the security camera.
His face became clear.
The resemblance to Arthur was undeniable.
Arthur gripped the edge of the table.
Hannah looked at him.
“That man told me he was your father.”
Arthur could barely speak.
“When?”
“Three nights ago.”
“What did he give you?”
Hannah looked toward Sophie’s incubator.
“A warning.”
Arthur swallowed.
“About Rebecca?”
“No.”
Hannah’s eyes moved toward Richard.
“He warned me about someone else.”
Richard’s face tightened.
“Who?”
May you like
Hannah answered.
“You.”
