I could not speak.
Elaine's words seemed to hang in the room between us.
“Nora wasn't the one who took your daughter.”
I looked at Lucas.
He was staring at the floor.
“You knew,” I said.
He shook his head.
“I didn't.”
“You suspected.”
“I suspected something.”
“You let me blame Nora.”
“I didn't know enough.”
“You let me think she carried Melanie away.”
“I didn't know which baby she had.”
Elaine interrupted softly.
“She did carry a baby.”
I turned toward her.
“Clara?”
“Yes.”
“So Toby saw Clara.”
“Yes.”
“Then why did he think it was Melanie?”
“Because Lucas touched the baby's blanket.”
I looked at my husband.
“You thought Clara was Melanie.”
“For a moment.”
“And Nora knew you thought that?”
“I don't know.”
Elaine nodded slowly.
“She knew there was confusion.”
“Who caused it?”
“I can't say.”
“Why not?”
“Because I never saw the person directly.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It does if you understand how the nursery worked.”
She pulled a chair toward the wall.
“Two weeks ago, the maternity wing was short-staffed. Infants were moved between stations because one section was being cleaned.”
I listened.
“Melanie was placed in station eight.”
I glanced at the bracelet.
“417?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did the record say station four?”
“Because she was moved.”
“When?”
“During the forty-eight minutes you're asking about.”
“Why?”
“Lena believed someone had entered the wrong identification number.”
“Was that why the bracelet was changed?”
“No.”
“What was changed?”
“The chart.”
My heart beat harder.
“Explain.”
Elaine took a breath.
“Melanie had a temporary bracelet because she was transferred immediately after birth.”
“Okay.”
“Clara had one too.”
“Yes.”
“The bracelets looked similar.”
“Similar enough to confuse them?”
“Yes.”
“But nurses check them.”
“They are supposed to.”
I looked at Lucas.
“And someone didn't.”
Elaine nodded.
“Someone changed a record before the final verification.”
“Who?”
“We never found out.”
“Lena did.”
“Yes.”
“What did she do?”
“She photographed the chart.”
My breath caught.
“Where is the photograph?”
“I don't know.”
“Did she send it to anyone?”
Elaine looked at Lucas.
“She sent it to him.”
I turned.
“You received a photograph?”
Lucas nodded.
“When?”
“That night.”
“Where is it?”
“I deleted it.”
I stared at him.
“You deleted evidence?”
“I didn't know what it was.”
“You knew it concerned our daughter.”
“I thought it was another hospital form.”
“You deleted it?”
“I was panicking.”
Elaine looked at him.
“Did you read it?”
He nodded.
“What did it say?”
“It showed two patient numbers.”
“Which ones?”
“592.”
Melanie's number.
“And 417.”
The bracelet.
I looked at Elaine.
“What did the photograph prove?”
“That someone had entered Melanie's information under another baby's transfer record.”
“Whose?”
Elaine shook her head.
“We don't know.”
“Then how did you know it was deliberate?”
“Because the correction was made after the nurse's signature.”
My stomach tightened.
“Someone altered a signed record.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Elaine looked at me.
“That is what Lena was trying to find out.”
“And then she disappeared.”
“Yes.”
“Did she leave willingly?”
“No.”
The word came quietly.
I felt cold.
“How do you know?”
“She left her apartment without taking her purse.”
“When?”
“The morning after the delivery.”
I looked at Lucas.
“Did you know that?”
“No.”
Elaine continued.
“Her car was still outside.”
“Did anyone report her missing?”
“Her family did.”
“Why haven't I heard about this?”
“Because the hospital never connected her disappearance to the delivery.”
My hands tightened.
“Did the hospital know?”
“Yes.”
“And did they tell me?”
“No.”
I laughed once.
The sound was bitter.
“Of course.”
Lucas reached toward me.
I pulled away.
“Don't.”
He lowered his hand.
Elaine watched us.
“There is something else.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
“Nora came back.”
“When?”
“The morning after.”
“With Clara?”
Elaine hesitated.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She wanted to know whether the babies had been identified correctly.”
My heart jumped.
“Did she know about the mix-up?”
“Yes.”
“Who told her?”
“I don't know.”
“Did she speak to Lena?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“They argued.”
“About what?”
“Lena accused Nora of taking the wrong baby.”
I stared at her.
“And Nora?”
“She denied it.”
“Did she leave with Clara?”
“Yes.”
“Then what?”
“She returned later.”
“Why?”
“She wanted to see the records.”
“Was Lucas there?”
“No.”
“Was anyone else?”
Elaine hesitated.
“A man.”
My stomach tightened.
“What man?”
“I didn't see his face clearly.”
“Did he work here?”
“I don't know.”
“What did he do?”
“He waited outside the nursery.”
“Did he speak to Nora?”
“Yes.”
“Did you hear them?”
“No.”
“Did he have anything with him?”
“A folder.”
My mind went back to the woman in blue.
The paper.
The number.
The envelope.
The pieces were beginning to connect, but the center was still missing.
I turned to Lucas.
“What did the woman in blue look like?”
He frowned.
“Why?”
“Tell me.”
“Brown hair.”
“How old?”
“Forties.”
“Did she wear a badge?”
“Yes.”
“What did it say?”
“I don't know.”
I looked at Elaine.
“Was there a social worker assigned that night?”
She nodded.
“One.”
“What was her name?”
Elaine hesitated.
“Rebecca Hall.”
My heart stopped.
That name was familiar.
Not from the hospital.
From the paperwork.
I pulled out my discharge folder.
There it was.
A social work consultation.
Rebecca Hall.
Time: 2:46 a.m.
I pointed at it.
“That's during the missing forty-eight minutes.”
Elaine nodded.
“What did she do?”
“She spoke with your husband.”
“About what?”
“I don't know.”
I looked at Lucas.
“You knew her.”
“I met her that night.”
“Why?”
“She asked me questions.”
“What questions?”
“Whether I intended to take the baby home.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“She asked whether there would be anyone available to care for you.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It didn't to me either.”
“What did you say?”
“That my mother was staying with us.”
Elaine looked troubled.
“Did she ask about Nora?”
Lucas nodded.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She asked whether Nora was family.”
“Why would a social worker ask that?”
“I don't know.”
Elaine stood.
“There was a note.”
“What note?”
“Rebecca wrote one.”
“Where is it?”
“In the administrative file.”
“Can we see it?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“It was removed.”
“By whom?”
She looked at us.
“Rebecca.”
I felt a knot form in my stomach.
“Where is Rebecca now?”
Elaine didn't answer.
“Where?”
“She doesn't work here anymore.”
“Did she leave?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“The day after Lena disappeared.”
I looked at Lucas.
His face had gone pale.
“Where did she go?”
“No one knows.”
The room was silent.
Then my phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Hello?”
A woman's voice spoke quietly.
“You're asking the wrong person about your daughter.”
My heart stopped.
“Who is this?”
“Someone who knows what happened.”
“Where is Melanie?”
Silence.
Then:
“Ask your husband what he signed.”
The call ended.
I slowly lowered the phone.
Lucas was staring at me.
“What did they say?”
I looked at him.
“What did you sign?”
His face changed.
“I don't know.”
“Lucas.”
“I don't know.”
But the fear in his eyes told me that somewhere inside his memory was an answer he had spent two weeks trying not to find.
Click here to continue reading: PART 11: The Document Lucas Signed While I Was Unconscious Changed Everything, Because It Explained Why Everyone Had Been Afraid to Tell Me the Truth
Two Weeks After Burying My Newborn Daughter, I Found My Eight-Year-Old Hiding Money Away for a Reason That Made No Sense
Part 10 of 12
