Chương 13
“Chloe.”
“No.”
There was a tremor in Chloe’s voice now.
“She tried to kill you, and thirty minutes later I’m supposed to sit beside her while she tells me family history?”
Victoria stopped.
Chloe had been obeying requests from everyone all night.
For once, refusal made sense.
“Okay.”
Chloe exhaled.
“Thank you.”
Victoria almost apologized.
Instead she said, “Stay with the officers.”
“I am.”
A nurse touched Victoria’s shoulder.
Another contraction.
“Got to go.”
“Victoria.”
“What?”
Chloe hesitated.
“I’m glad the baby’s okay.”
Victoria closed her eyes.
“Me too.”
She handed back the phone.
The contraction crested.
This one felt different.
Lower.
Heavier.
Dr. Shah checked her and looked up.
“We’re getting close.”
“How close?”
“Very.”
Victoria stared at her.
“That is not medically specific.”
Dr. Shah smiled.
“You’re at eight centimeters.”
“That’s medically specific.”
“Better?”
“No.”
Alison laughed.
Then the room changed again.
Equipment moved closer.
Another nurse entered.
Dr. Shah spoke calmly about prematurity, neonatal support, breathing, temperature, and the possibility that the baby might need the NICU.
Victoria listened to every word.
She had signed dozens of development contracts worth millions.
She had negotiated with banks and city councils and contractors who believed volume was a substitute for competence.
None of that had prepared her for being told her daughter might enter the world before she was ready.
“I need Julian listed as no access.”
Alison nodded.
“Already done.”
“Eleanor too.”
“Done.”
“Chloe can come in if I ask.”
“Noted.”
Victoria looked at Dr. Shah.
“If something happens to me—”
“No.”
Victoria frowned.
Dr. Shah shook her head.
“You can give legal instructions if you need to, but don’t start writing the ending before we get there.”
Victoria almost argued.
Then another contraction came.
She could not.
By six twenty-seven, dawn had begun to lighten the narrow strip of window above the sink.
Victoria was nine centimeters.
Her phone had not rung for twelve minutes.
That frightened her.
Silence had become suspicious.
Then Alison picked it up.
“Detective Ortiz.”
Victoria reached.
Alison handed it over.
Ortiz said, “We located Julian.”
“Where?”
“Outside the former Hawthorne facility.”
“Did he get inside?”
“Yes.”
Victoria’s chest tightened.
“Is he under arrest?”
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s currently locked inside unit 317.”
Victoria stared at the wall.
“Locked inside?”
“He entered before state troopers arrived.”
“Why doesn’t he come out?”
“He says the door jammed.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“We agree.”
“Can they force it?”
“They’re assessing the structure.”
Victoria clenched her jaw.
“What is he doing in there?”
“We don’t know.”
“Burning evidence.”
“That is a concern.”
“Then break the door.”
“Victoria.”
“What?”
“There may be hazardous materials inside.”
She shut her eyes.
Of course there were procedures.
Of course truth had paperwork.
Ortiz continued.
“But there’s another issue.”
Victoria opened her eyes.
“What?”
“Someone else is inside.”
“With Julian?”
“We believe so.”
“Who?”
“We don’t know yet.”
The phrase returned again.
This time Victoria hated it less.
Ortiz said, “Troopers heard a woman’s voice.”
Victoria’s hand tightened around the phone.
“Eleanor is here.”
“We confirmed.”
“Chloe?”
“With us at the hospital.”
“Mara?”
“At police headquarters.”
Victoria’s heartbeat accelerated.
Ortiz continued.
“The woman inside told Julian to stop destroying things.”
Victoria forgot the pain for one second.
“Did she give a name?”
“No.”
Then Ortiz added, “She told the troopers Julian was just like Richard.”
Victoria looked toward the window.
Sunrise had turned the glass pale gray.
“Can they see her?”
“No.”
“Did Julian respond?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
Ortiz paused.
“He said, ‘You were supposed to stay dead.’”
Victoria felt every hair along her arms rise.
Alison watched her expression change.
Victoria whispered, “Camille.”
Ortiz did not answer.
She did not need to.
From across the room, Dr. Shah said, “Victoria, we need you back with us.”
Victoria lowered the phone.
Ortiz heard.
“I’ll update you.”
“No.”
“Victoria.”
“Tell me one thing.”
“What?”
“If that woman is Camille, does Mara know?”
Ortiz hesitated.
“She does now.”
The call ended.
Victoria stared at the phone.
Twenty-seven years.
A missing seven-year-old.
A hidden storage unit.
A man who had built his adult life around a family story that required one person to remain dead.
Another contraction seized her.
Victoria cried out.
Dr. Shah moved between her knees.
“That’s it.”
Victoria gripped the rails.
“I feel pressure.”
“You’re complete.”
The room became motion.
Someone adjusted the bed.
Someone called neonatal staff.
Alison took Victoria’s phone and put it aside.
Dr. Shah looked directly at her.
“Your daughter is coming.”
Victoria thought of grease on marble.
Of signatures copied badly.
Of Chloe standing below the staircase.
Of Julian asking how much evidence she had sent.
Of Camille somewhere in a metal storage unit, alive after an entire family had organized itself around her absence.
Then Victoria stopped thinking about all of them.
She pushed.
The pain split the world down to one task.
Again.
And again.
Dr. Shah spoke encouragement that Victoria barely heard.
A neonatal team waited nearby.
The monitor changed rhythm.
Victoria panicked.
“What’s happening?”
“Her heart rate dipped.”
“Is she okay?”
“It recovered.”
“Tell me if it doesn’t.”
Victoria pushed again.
She screamed this time.
There was no dignity left to protect and she was grateful for it.
Then Dr. Shah said, “One more.”
Victoria shook her head.
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
“I hate that sentence.”
“Fine.”
Dr. Shah leaned closer.
“Do it anyway.”
Victoria laughed and sobbed at the same time.
Then she pushed.
At 6:41 in the morning, her daughter entered the world angry.
The cry was small.
Thin.
Perfect.
Victoria collapsed back against the pillows.
“Is she breathing?”
“Yes.”
“Is she okay?”
“She’s breathing.”
Dr. Shah lifted the baby only briefly before the neonatal team took over.
Victoria saw dark wet hair.
A tiny purple-red face.
Fists already closed.
Then her daughter disappeared beneath warming lights.
Victoria turned her head.
“What are they doing?”
“Helping her transition.”
“Can I see her?”
“In a minute.”
“What does that mean?”
May you like
Dr. Shah placed a hand on Victoria’s leg.
“It means she’s premature, but she came out fighting.”
