Chương 7
Rachel’s hand stopped.
“What?”
“He represented that you had become delusional and unsafe around the child.”
Rachel stared at him.
“I had a hemorrhage.”
“I know.”
“I had panic attacks after surgery.”
“I know.”
“I never hurt her.”
“There is no record that you did.”
“Then why would anyone believe him?”
“Your medical chart notes confusion after anesthesia, severe sleep deprivation, and an episode where you tried to leave your room against medical advice.”
Rachel remembered.
She had wanted to see Sophie.
A nurse said the baby was undergoing a procedure.
Rachel had pulled out her IV.
Daniel had convinced her to get back into bed.
“You mean when they wouldn’t let me see my daughter.”
“Yes.”
Rachel set the glass down.
“So my attempt to reach her became evidence that I shouldn’t have her.”
Ryan said nothing.
She pressed both hands against the counter.
“Did Daniel plan this before she was born?”
“We don’t know.”
“Claire?”
“We found emails.”
Rachel turned.
“What emails?”
Ryan pulled three pages from the folder.
Printed copies.
Daniel to Claire.
Subject line: Rachel.
The first was dated three weeks before delivery.
Rachel read.
She’s not sleeping and every conversation turns into an argument. You said you could take the baby for a few days after discharge. I think we should plan for that.
Claire had replied:
Only if Rachel agrees. I’m not getting between you two.
A second email, nine days later:
She won’t agree if I ask while she’s this angry.
Claire:
Then don’t ask now.
Rachel read the third.
Daniel:
I need options.
Claire:
You need to stop trying to control everything.
Rachel looked at Ryan.
“This makes Claire look less involved.”
“For that part.”
“What part?”
He placed another page down.
A message sent two days after Sophie’s birth.
Claire to Daniel:
If you tell her now, she’ll take the baby and disappear.
Daniel:
She can barely stand.
Claire:
That won’t last.
Daniel:
Give me forty-eight hours.
Claire:
And then what?
There was no printed answer.
Rachel sat.
“What was I going to do?”
Ryan looked at her.
“What?”
“They thought I was going to take Sophie.”
He hesitated.
“Were you planning to leave Daniel?”
Rachel stared at the table.
Nine years collapsed into a smaller room.
A private one.
A room she had never discussed with police because until now it had seemed unrelated to her daughter’s death.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Rachel rubbed her wedding ring with her thumb.
“Because Daniel had been moving money.”
“What money?”
“From our joint investment account.”
“How much?”
“About a hundred and thirty thousand dollars.”
Ryan leaned forward.
“Where?”
“I never found out. He said he lost it in a private investment.”
“Did you believe him?”
“No.”
“Did Claire know you planned to leave?”
“Yes.”
Ryan sat back.
Rachel’s stomach tightened.
“What?”
“We found payments around that period.”
“To Porter.”
“Yes.”
“From the missing money?”
“We’re tracing it.”
Rachel stared at the email.
“Claire thought if I left Daniel, I’d take the baby.”
“That appears possible.”
“But why would she care?”
Ryan did not answer.
Rachel looked at him.
“Say it.”
“We found messages suggesting Claire had become intensely involved during your pregnancy.”
Rachel almost laughed.
“She was my sister.”
“Yes.”
“She came to appointments.”
“Yes.”
“She bought the rabbit.”
Ryan glanced at the toy on the counter.
“Did she?”
Rachel touched it.
Claire had arrived at the baby shower with the rabbit inside a ridiculous wicker basket filled with diapers, lavender lotion, and tiny socks.
“She bought two,” Rachel said.
Ryan looked up.
“What?”
“Two rabbits.”
The photograph.
Emma holding an almost identical toy.
Rachel felt the room narrow.
“Claire said the store had a two-for-one promotion.”
Ryan stood.
“Do you still have packaging? Receipt?”
“Nine years ago?”
“Anything.”
Rachel was already moving toward the hallway closet.
She opened the top shelf where she had kept Sophie’s memory box.
Funeral program.
Hospital bracelet.
Cards.
A lock of hair Claire claimed a nurse had clipped before the coffin was sealed.
Rachel pulled the box down.
Her hands shook.
Ryan put it on the table.
Inside, beneath condolence letters, lay a pale blue envelope in Claire’s handwriting.
For my favorite little girl.
Rachel had never opened it.
She had assumed it was meant for Sophie.
After the death, opening letters addressed to the baby had felt obscene.
Ryan wore gloves before handling it.
Inside was a card.
No receipt.
No dramatic confession.
Just Claire’s handwriting.
One for your house and one for mine, because Aunt Claire plans to spoil you shamelessly.
Rachel read the sentence twice.
Then she sat down.
Ryan photographed the card.
“That doesn’t prove intent.”
“I know.”
“But she bought the second rabbit before Sophie was born.”
“Yes.”
Rachel looked at the old toy.
For years she had believed the duplicate in the photograph was coincidence.
Now coincidence seemed almost insulting.
Two days later, Rachel flew to Virginia.
She did not go to Claire’s house.
That had been the first condition.
Dana Ellis met her in a county office building with bad carpet and a vending machine that hummed loud enough to hear through the wall.
A child therapist named Dr. Lena Patel sat beside her.
Ryan joined remotely from another investigation.
Rachel hated all of them for being necessary.
“Emma has been told there is an issue with her birth records,” Dr. Patel said.
Rachel sat with both hands around a paper cup of tea.
“By Claire?”
“By Claire, with support.”
“What words did she use?”
“That some adults made serious decisions when Emma was a baby, and those decisions may mean parts of what she knows about her family are not accurate.”
Rachel stared.
“She talks like that to a nine-year-old?”
Dr. Patel almost smiled.
“No. That was my summary.”
Rachel exhaled.
“What did Claire actually say?”
“She told Emma that there may be another woman who gave birth to her.”
Rachel looked down at the tea.
The paper cup bent slightly under her fingers.
May you like
“What did Emma say?”
“She asked if that woman wanted her.”
