Chapter 4 - THE SECRET
Detective Brooks arrived within fifteen minutes.
I handed him the phone.
He studied the photograph.
“Do you recognize this location?”
I shook my head.
Claire looked closer.
“Wait.”
She pointed toward the window behind my sister.
“That's a gas station.”
Brooks zoomed in.
A sign was barely visible.
“Route 18,” he said.
He immediately called for assistance.
I wanted to go.
He refused.
“You're staying here.”
“My sister is out there.”
“And you're pregnant and recovering from an assault.”
“I don't care.”
“I do.”
He looked directly at me.
“Let us find her.”
For the first time, I saw something in his expression.
Not pity.
Determination.
They found Rachel two hours later.
Alive.
Terrified.
And carrying a secret.
She refused to speak until Detective Brooks cleared the room.
Then she looked at me.
“I found something.”
“What?”
She pulled a small envelope from inside her coat.
“I took this from Margaret's house.”
My hands trembled.
“What is it?”
“Read it.”
Inside was a photograph.
An ultrasound.
I stared at it.
My baby's profile was visible.
But the date was wrong.
Six weeks earlier.
Before my husband claimed he'd learned about the pregnancy complications.
On the back was a handwritten note.
Transfer after delivery.
I looked at Rachel.
“What does that mean?”
“I don't know.”
Detective Brooks took the photograph.
“There are more.”
Rachel pulled out another document.
A contract.
My name appeared at the top.
I read the first paragraph.
Then stopped.
“This isn't my signature.”
“No,” Rachel said.
“But it says you agreed to surrender custody.”
My throat closed.
“That's impossible.”
“It was dated two months ago.”
“I was still married.”
Rachel nodded.
“Exactly.”
Detective Brooks read the document carefully.
“This is a pre-birth custody agreement.”
I looked at him.
“Why would I sign this?”
“You didn't.”
“Then who did?”
He turned the page.
“There.”
A witness signature.
Margaret Carter.
My mother-in-law.
My blood went cold.
“She forged my signature.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Detective Brooks looked at the ultrasound.
“I think we're starting to understand.”
The next morning, Dr. Vale finally agreed to speak.
He arrived with an attorney.
“I cannot discuss confidential medical information.”
Detective Brooks placed a warrant on the table.
“You can now.”
The doctor sighed.
My husband had paid him to perform genetic testing.
“Why?”
Dr. Vale looked uncomfortable.
“Your husband believed the baby was not biologically his.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“He asked for a paternity test.”
My mouth went dry.
“Did he get one?”
“Yes.”
“What's the result?”
The doctor hesitated.
Then he looked at Detective Brooks.
“The test was inconclusive.”
“Inconclusive?”
“The sample was compromised.”
I frowned.
“How?”
“We don't know.”
Detective Brooks asked, “Was another test performed?”
“Yes.”
“Result?”
The doctor's attorney shifted uncomfortably.
“The second sample was not from the mother.”
My entire body froze.
“What?”
Dr. Vale looked at me.
“Someone submitted a different woman's sample under your name.”
Silence filled the room.
I looked at Rachel.
She was crying.
My husband hadn't just been planning to hurt me.
He had been building a false story.
A story where I was an unfaithful wife.
A story where the baby wasn't his.
A story where he could take my child.
And someone had been helping him.
But one question remained.
Why?
That night, Detective Brooks returned with the answer.
“We traced the shell corporation.”
“To whom?”
He placed a file on the table.
“The company is controlled by an attorney.”
“Who?”
He slid over the photograph.
I recognized him immediately.
He had attended our wedding.
He had toasted my husband.
He had called me “family.”
My husband's uncle.
Robert Carter.
I whispered his name.
Detective Brooks nodded.
“And we found something else.”
“What?”
“Robert has been transferring money to a private adoption agency.”
My stomach dropped.
“Adoption?”
He nodded.
“The agency specializes in international placements.”
I stared at him.
“Are you telling me my husband planned to give away my baby?”
“No.”
Detective Brooks looked at me.
“I'm telling you we don't know yet.”
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed.
“Where?”
A pause.
“I'm on my way.”
He hung up.
“What happened?”
He looked at me.
“Your husband was released.”
My heart stopped.
“Released?”
“Bail.”
“When?”
“Twenty minutes ago.”
Claire stood.
“How?”
Detective Brooks looked toward the window.
“Someone posted half a million dollars.”
I already knew.
Robert.
Margaret.
And my husband.
May you like
They were still moving pieces.
And I was running out of time.
