Chapter 9 - THE BABY NO ONE KNEW EXISTED
Michael spent the next forty-eight hours searching.
Hospitals.
Private clinics.
Adoption agencies.
County records.
Nothing.
His son had vanished without a trace.
Then Eleanor found something.
A photograph.
It had been hidden inside Emily's old sewing box.
Emily was holding a newborn baby.
Michael stared at the photograph for several seconds.
Then he noticed the date.
The photograph had been taken after the accident.
Michael's heart stopped.
Emily was alive.
Not dead.
Alive after the crash.
Someone had photographed her.
He turned the picture over.
A hospital name was written on the back.
St. Vincent's.
Michael drove there immediately.
The hospital administrator initially refused to speak.
Then Michael placed Emily's photograph on the desk.
“Tell me what happened that night.”
The administrator sighed.
“There was a woman brought in after a car accident.”
“My wife.”
“Yes.”
“Was she alive?”
The administrator looked down.
“Yes.”
Michael's knees weakened.
“How long?”
“Approximately twenty minutes.”
“What happened?”
“She delivered a baby.”
Michael closed his eyes.
His son had been born there.
“What happened to him?”
“He was taken to the neonatal unit.”
“By whom?”
The administrator hesitated.
“A woman claiming to be a family representative.”
“What woman?”
“We have the name.”
Michael leaned forward.
“Who?”
The administrator handed him a form.
Michael read it.
Then froze.
The woman had identified herself as:
Eleanor Hayes.
Michael turned slowly.
His housekeeper.
His trusted employee.
The woman who had told him Emily was dead.
The woman who had given him the key.
The woman who had helped him search for Lily.
Michael's blood ran cold.
He called Eleanor.
No answer.
He called again.
Nothing.
He checked the security cameras at the mansion.
Eleanor was gone.
Lily was gone too.
Michael ran outside.
He was too late.
A note had been left on the kitchen table.
He opened it.
“I'm sorry.”
Three words.
Then an address.
Michael drove alone.
When he arrived, Eleanor stood outside an old farmhouse.
Lily was beside her.
Michael raised his weapon.
“Where is my son?”
Eleanor began crying.
“I never wanted this.”
“Where is he?”
“I protected him.”
“From whom?”
Eleanor looked at Lily.
“From Daniel.”
Michael lowered his weapon slightly.
“Explain.”
Eleanor whispered:
“Emily asked me to save both children.”
Michael stared.
“Both?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you tell me Emily died?”
“Because Daniel had people watching the hospital.”
“Then why didn't you tell me about the babies?”
“Because Emily made me promise.”
Michael's voice cracked.
“Where is my son?”
Eleanor pointed toward the farmhouse.
Inside, a young woman was holding a baby.
Michael stepped inside.
The woman stood.
She looked terrified.
Then she handed him the child.
Michael looked down.
A tiny boy stared back.
Dark hair.
Blue eyes.
His eyes.
Michael began crying.
“My son.”
Lily ran toward him.
“Is that my brother?”
Michael nodded.
“Yes.”
She touched the baby's tiny hand.
“He's cute.”
Michael laughed through tears.
“He is.”
For one beautiful moment, everything felt right.
Then the farmhouse lights went out.
Eleanor whispered:
“They found us.”
A gunshot shattered the window.
Michael grabbed Lily and dropped to the floor.
The baby began crying.
Outside, vehicles surrounded the house.
A voice shouted:
“Michael Hartman!”
Michael looked at Eleanor.
“Who are they?”
Eleanor whispered:
“The people Emily was trying to escape.”
Then another voice called out.
A woman's voice.
Cold.
Calm.
Familiar.
“Michael…”
He froze.
He knew that voice.
May you like
It belonged to someone he had buried six months ago.
Emily.
