Chương 7
Daniel cursed.
Claire barely heard him.
“Can I see them?”
“Not yet.”
Her eyes opened.
“Why?”
“Because the scene isn’t fully cleared, and because we need to identify them properly.”
“They’re mine.”
“I believe you.”
“They’re mine.”
“Claire.”
“I know my daughters.”
“I know.”
“Then let me see them.”
“Give me a few minutes.”
She stepped toward the clinic.
Reed blocked her.
Her body filled with rage so quickly it frightened her.
Not because Reed deserved it.
Because there had always been a door.
For eleven months there had always been someone on the other side of a door telling Claire she could not go through.
Operating room.
Recovery room.
Morgue office.
Records department.
Hospital legal office.
Archive.
Now this.
She said, “Move.”
Reed shook his head.
Daniel touched her shoulder.
She snapped, “Don’t.”
Then the clinic door opened.
A paramedic stepped outside carrying a little girl wrapped in a gray blanket.
Claire stopped fighting.
The child had dark brown hair flattened on one side from sleep.
Her face was rounder than in the photograph.
She looked around at the rainy parking lot with solemn confusion.
A second paramedic emerged carrying another girl.
The second child began to cry.
Not dramatically.
A tired, frightened cry.
The first child heard it and twisted in the paramedic’s arms.
She reached toward her sister.
Claire made a sound that hurt coming out.
Daniel’s fingers closed around hers.
Neither of them moved.
The paramedics carried the girls toward the ambulance.
Claire could see the crescent mark.
Left temple.
Baby B.
Except she was not a baby anymore.
Not really.
Eleven months old.
Almost a year of life Claire had missed.
The second girl reached again for her sister.
The paramedics brought them together before placing them inside.
One immediately grabbed the other’s sleeve.
Claire began crying without noticing.
Not loudly.
Tears simply ran down her face.
Daniel covered his mouth.
Reed stood beside them.
“They’ll be taken to a children’s hospital for evaluation.”
“We’re going.”
“Yes.”
“When can I hold them?”
“I don’t know.”
Claire turned on him.
He did not soften the answer.
“That’s the truth.”
She wiped her face with the heel of her hand.
“Fine.”
It wasn’t fine.
But truth had become valuable.
Inside the clinic, police found vaccination records under the false names, a locked medication box, travel clothing, two child car seats, and a folder of documents prepared for international transit.
They also found Sarah Danner.
She was forty-two, divorced, and licensed years earlier as a foster caregiver before allowing the license to lapse when she started caring privately for Bright Haven placements.
She did not run.
She did not resist.
When officers entered, she was sitting on the floor beside the girls with her hands visible.
According to Reed, the first thing she said was, “Please don’t scare them.”
Claire learned that later.
At the time she only knew there was a woman in the building who had held her daughters while Claire had been burying them.
She hated Sarah before seeing her.
At the children’s hospital, Claire and Daniel waited in a family consultation room while pediatricians examined the girls.
The room had pale blue walls and a television mounted too high.
Someone had left a wooden puzzle on the table.
Daniel kept putting the red wooden apple into the wrong opening without seeming aware he was doing it.
Claire watched him try the same hole four times.
Finally she took the piece from him.
“That’s the banana.”
He looked down.
“Right.”
She put the apple where it belonged.
Then she laughed.
It came out wet and strange.
Daniel laughed too.
For ten seconds they sat in a hospital room at four in the morning laughing at a wooden puzzle while their kidnapped daughters were being examined down the hall.
Then Claire covered her face.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Daniel leaned forward.
“Nothing that makes sense is happening.”
That was better than reassurance.
She lowered her hands.
At 4:17, a pediatrician came in.
Dr. Anika Patel introduced herself and sat rather than standing over them.
“The girls are medically stable.”
Claire nodded too quickly.
“No signs of acute injury. They’re both mildly congested. One has fluid behind her left eardrum, which fits the records that came with her.”
Left ear.
Claire remembered asking Shaw which one.
Her stomach twisted again.
Dr. Patel continued.
“We’re doing standard labs and documenting everything carefully. Law enforcement has asked for DNA samples. We’ll need consent coordinated through the appropriate process because the children’s legal identity is currently disputed on paper.”
“They’re not disputed,” Claire said.
Dr. Patel’s expression remained calm.
“I understand what you mean.”
“No. Their documents are fake. We have their real bracelets.”
“I understand.”
“Then why can’t anyone just say they’re ours?”
Daniel said softly, “Claire.”
She turned on him.
Dr. Patel did not interrupt.
Claire looked back at the doctor.
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize to me.”
Claire nearly objected to that too.
Then stopped.
Dr. Patel folded her hands.
“The fastest way to protect your daughters is to make the identification impossible to challenge later.”
The phrase your daughters nearly broke Claire again.
She swallowed.
“When can we see them?”
“Soon.”
“Hold them?”
Dr. Patel hesitated.
That hesitation mattered.
“They’ve been with the same caregiver for most of their lives.”
Claire’s whole body stiffened.
“So?”
“So sudden separation from every familiar person can be frightening for children this age, even when that familiar person is not their legal parent.”
Claire stood.
“No.”
Daniel looked up.
Dr. Patel remained seated.
“No what?”
“You’re not telling me I have to ask permission from the woman who had my children.”
“I’m not telling you that.”
“You’re telling me she matters.”
“To them, she probably does.”
Claire walked to the wall.
A paper handwashing poster showed cartoon bubbles.
She hated the poster.
She hated the chairs.
She hated Dr. Patel’s gentle voice.
May you like
Most of all she hated the possibility that Dr. Patel was right.
Daniel said, “What are you recommending?”
