Chương 8
“A gradual introduction over the next several hours, if law enforcement and child welfare agree. You see the girls. We observe their response. We keep familiar objects nearby. If Sarah Danner has information about routines, food, sleep, allergies, comfort behaviors, we use that information.”
Claire turned.
“She doesn’t get to be in the room.”
Dr. Patel paused.
“We can discuss that.”
“No.”
Daniel said, “Claire.”
“She doesn’t.”
He stood.
“Can I talk to you outside?”
“No.”
“Please.”
“No.”
Dr. Patel rose.
“I can give you both a few minutes.”
When the door closed behind her, Daniel faced Claire.
“You’re doing it again.”
“What?”
“Making me the enemy because I’m standing closest.”
She flinched.
He looked exhausted.
Rainwater had dried in pale marks on his black jacket. His stubble looked darker against skin gone almost colorless.
“I am not asking you to forgive that woman,” he said. “I’m asking you to think about the girls.”
“I am thinking about them.”
“You’re thinking about what was done to us.”
“That was done to them too.”
“Yes.”
He rubbed his eyes.
“But they don’t know that yet.”
Claire stared at him.
“They know her?”
“Probably.”
“She changed their diapers.”
“Probably.”
“She put them to sleep.”
“Yes.”
“She knows what they eat.”
“Yes.”
Claire’s face crumpled despite everything she did to stop it.
“That should be me.”
Daniel crossed the room.
This time when he held her, she let him.
“I know.”
She pressed her forehead into his chest.
“I don’t want them to cry when I touch them.”
His arms tightened.
“They might.”
“I don’t want that.”
“I know.”
“They’re supposed to know me.”
“I know.”
He said it without trying to repair anything.
Eventually someone knocked.
Reed entered.
He had removed his wet police jacket. His shirtsleeves were rolled to the forearms.
“Vale’s vehicle was found abandoned near a commuter rail station.”
Daniel stepped away from Claire.
“Did he get on a train?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“What about the flight?”
“Airport authorities are holding the aircraft. Crew is being questioned. Nobody associated with the children is leaving on that flight.”
Claire nodded.
“Shaw?”
“In custody.”
“Sarah?”
“Also detained, but we’re sorting out her role.”
“She stole my children.”
“We don’t know that.”
Claire’s anger returned.
Reed held up a hand.
“I’m not defending her. I’m telling you what we can prove right now. She says Bright Haven told her the girls had been surrendered confidentially by a mother escaping an abusive relationship.”
Claire laughed bitterly.
“Convenient.”
“Yes.”
“You believe her?”
“I believe evidence.”
“Do you always talk like that?”
“Mostly when I haven’t slept.”
Daniel looked at the clock.
“Have you?”
“Not recently.”
The dry answer loosened the room by half an inch.
Reed became serious again.
“Sarah says she became suspicious two weeks ago when Vale told her the girls were being permanently placed overseas without the adoptive family completing the process she had been told to expect. She contacted Shaw because Shaw’s name appeared on early medical records.”
“The photograph,” Claire said.
Reed nodded.
“She sent it to Shaw three days ago with the date written on it. She says she wanted proof the girls were healthy before refusing to hand them over.”
Claire remembered Shaw lunging for the passports.
“Then why did Shaw try to take the passports?”
“She says she intended to destroy them so the transfer couldn’t happen.”
Claire stared.
“That’s a lie.”
“Maybe.”
“She could have handed them to you.”
“Yes.”
“She could have called police.”
“Yes.”
“She could have done that eleven months ago.”
“Yes.”
Reed’s refusal to argue with her was more effective than reassurance.
“Do you think Sarah knew?” Claire asked.
“I think we need to investigate.”
“That means you don’t know.”
“That is what it means.”
A nurse appeared at the door.
“Mr. and Mrs. Morgan?”
Claire’s heart kicked.
The nurse smiled, but only a little.
“You can come see the girls now.”
Claire forgot how to walk.
Daniel took her hand.
The twins were in a larger pediatric room with two cribs pushed near each other.
They wore hospital pajamas.
One sat upright holding the ear of the stuffed elephant recovered from the basement room.
The other leaned against a nurse.
Claire recognized the crescent mark first.
Then the way Baby A—her baby, her firstborn by eighty-three seconds—pressed her lips together before making a small uncertain sound.
Claire had done that as a child.
Her mother used to call it the Morgan pout even though Morgan was Daniel’s name.
The thought was stupid.
She almost laughed again.
The girl with the elephant saw Claire.
She stared.
Claire stopped six feet away.
Daniel stopped beside her.
Nobody said anything.
The nurse crouched slightly.
“These are some people who wanted to see you.”
Claire hated the sentence.
Some people.
But what else could the nurse say to an eleven-month-old child whose whole history was changing in one night?
Claire lowered herself into a chair.
“Hi.”
Her voice shook.
The girl stared at her cardigan.
Claire looked down.
One button hung loose near her stomach.
She had meant to sew it back on for two months.
Of all the things to notice while meeting her daughter, she noticed a loose button.
“Hi,” she said again.
The second twin turned.
Her eyes moved from Claire to Daniel.
Daniel crouched.
He did not speak.
The girl with the elephant pressed it against her mouth.
Claire felt grief and love collide so violently that neither resembled what she had expected.
She loved them.
There was no question.
But love did not create familiarity.
Love did not replace eleven months.
Love did not make the girls reach for her.
The nurse placed a soft stacking cup on the floor between Claire and the crib.
The crescent-marked twin leaned forward.
Claire waited.
After almost a minute, the nurse set the child down.
She stood unsteadily, one hand holding the crib rail.
Then she lowered herself to the floor.
May you like
Claire did not move.
The girl crawled toward the stacking cup.
