Chapter 7 - The House Where My Son Grew Up
I called 911 before I called Rebecca back.
Her number went straight to voicemail.
Nathan grabbed his keys.
"No."
"What?"
"We don't know where she is."
"Her sister's."
"Police are going."
He stopped.
For once, we did not rush blindly.
We waited.
Ten minutes.
Fifteen.
Then Detective Maria Chen called.
Rebecca was safe.
Not at her sister's house.
At a hotel.
She had seen a black sedan outside the house and panicked.
No one had entered.
No evidence Vale was in it.
But someone had frightened her enough to run.
I exhaled.
Then Chen said:
"She wants to meet you at the station."
We went.
Rebecca sat in an interview room clutching her notebook.
She looked embarrassed.
"I may have overreacted."
"No."
I sat across from her.
"You received a threat."
She nodded.
Detective Chen placed the messages in an evidence bag printout.
Unknown number.
No source yet.
Rebecca said:
"I remembered something else."
"What?"
"The funeral release."
My pulse kicked.
"Rowan?"
"There was a baby who died that week."
Nathan went still.
"Who?"
"I don't remember the name."
"What does that have to do with Rowan?"
Rebecca swallowed.
"Vale asked records to merge two patient files."
My skin tightened.
"Merge?"
"He said duplicate registration error."
"Was it?"
"I don't know."
"But one baby was dead."
"Yes."
"And Rowan was alive."
"Yes."
My stomach turned.
The grave.
Closed casket.
I forced the thought away.
Not yet.
Rebecca continued:
"I remember because the other baby's mother kept calling."
"What did she want?"
"Her child transferred to another hospital."
"What happened?"
"I don't know."
"Did she see a body?"
Rebecca's eyes filled.
"I don't know."
Detective Chen leaned in.
"Name?"
Rebecca shook her head.
"Maybe Mercer. Caroline? I wrote initials."
She flipped pages.
C.M.
MALE INFANT.
TRANSFER ERROR.
My hands went cold.
Fourteen years of records might still exist.
Eighteen.
Maybe.
Chen said:
"We can request archives."
Then Rebecca looked at Diane, who had come with us voluntarily.
"You were there when Rowan left."
Diane nodded.
"What did Vale tell you?"
"That the Wards had temporary medical guardianship."
"Did you see court papers?"
"No."
"Did you ask?"
"No."
"Did you watch him put Rowan in the car?"
Diane closed her eyes.
"Yes."
My breath stopped.
I had never asked that exact question.
"You saw him leave."
"Yes."
"Alive."
"Yes."
"Breathing."
"Yes."
My hands curled.
Diane whispered:
"He was sleeping."
I stood.
Detective Chen raised a hand.
Not to stop me.
Just to keep distance.
I walked to the corner.
Breathed.
Then turned.
"Did you kiss him?"
Diane covered her mouth.
"Emily."
"Did you?"
"Yes."
I nodded.
That was almost worse than the paperwork.
She kissed my living son goodbye.
Then came back to the hospital and held me while I believed he was dead.
I sat again.
Nathan looked sick.
Noah and Liam had stayed home this time.
Good.
Some details belonged to adults until we knew what they meant.
Detective Chen asked:
"Did the Wards pay you?"
Diane shook her head.
"Never."
"Vale?"
"No."
"Then why participate?"
Diane answered:
"I believed he would die if he stayed with us."
I stared.
"Us?"
She corrected.
"With Emily and Nathan."
"You were not his parent."
"I know."
"Do you?"
She flinched.
Chen moved on.
"Who arranged the death certificate?"
"Vale."
"Funeral home?"
"Vale gave me the number."
"Closed casket?"
"He insisted."
"Why?"
"He said the body had changed."
I nearly laughed from horror.
"Changed."
Diane cried.
"I believed what I needed to believe."
Again.
The most dangerous sentence in our family.
Nathan asked:
"Who arranged the cemetery plot?"
"I did."
"Whose remains were released?"
"I never knew."
Detective Chen looked at me.
"We can pursue exhumation."
The word hit hard.
I nodded anyway.
"Do it."
Then Diane whispered:
"There's something else."
Everyone turned.
"I kept one thing."
Of course.
"What?"
"Birthday photographs."
"Of Rowan."
"Yes."
"Where?"
"Home."
"Why?"
"I needed proof he was alive."
I stared.
"For yourself."
She nodded.
"Not for me."
"No."
"Not for Nathan."
"No."
"For yourself."
"Yes."
We drove to her house with Chen.
Diane opened a locked cedar chest.
Eighteen envelopes.
One for every birthday.
ROWAN 1.
ROWAN 2.
ROWAN 3.
My hands shook.
Inside each:
Photographs.
School certificates.
Christmas cards.
A toothless grin.
Baseball uniform.
Science fair.
Prom.
A whole childhood compressed into envelopes my mother had hidden under blankets.
I sat on the floor.
Nathan knelt beside me.
I pushed him away.
Not because of him.
Because I could not be touched.
Then I saw a picture from Rowan's tenth birthday.
He stood outside the Ward house holding a skateboard.
In the background, across the street:
A dark SUV.
A man beside it.
Face partly turned.
I leaned closer.
My heart stopped.
Nathan.
I looked at him.
He stared.
"No."
I held up the photo.
"That's you."
He backed away.
"No."
Diane looked between us.
Her face changed.
"What?"
Nathan shook his head.
"I wasn't there."
"That's your coat."
"No."
"Your car."
"Emily, I swear."
Detective Chen took the photograph.
"Could be him."
Nathan rubbed his face.
"I don't remember that."
I stared.
"How do you not remember standing outside the house where our dead son lived?"
His voice cracked.
"I don't know."
Diane whispered:
"Nathan."
He turned.
She looked terrified.
"You followed me once."
Silence.
My chest tightened.
"What?"
Diane continued:
"Years ago."
Nathan stared at her.
"You saw me leave."
He shook his head.
"No."
"You asked where I was going."
"I don't remember."
"You followed my car."
Nathan's face emptied.
Then something changed.
Memory.
I saw it arrive.
He sat down.
"Oh God."
I whispered:
"What?"
He covered his mouth.
"I found the house."
My knees went weak.
"You knew."
"No."
"You found the house."
"I didn't know who lived there."
"You saw Rowan?"
His eyes filled.
"From across the street."
"How old?"
"Ten."
The photograph.
I stared.
"Why didn't you knock?"
He looked at me.
"I thought I was losing my mind."
That was not enough.
"What did you do?"
"I left."
"Then?"
"I confronted Diane."
My head snapped toward my mother.
She went white.
Nathan whispered:
"She told me the boy wasn't Rowan."
I stared at both of them.
"And you believed her."
He closed his eyes.
"Yes."
I laughed.
The sound hurt.
Again.
Another moment truth stood five feet away and someone chose the easier story.
Then Diane said:
"I told him if he told you, you'd collapse."
My vision narrowed.
Nathan whispered:
"I was afraid."
I looked at him.
"Eight years."
He nodded.
"You had eight years."
Tears ran down his face.
"I know."
No.
He did not.
Not yet.
Then Detective Chen's phone rang.
She listened.
Her face changed.
"What?"
She looked at me.
"Rebecca remembered the other mother's full name."
My pulse kicked.
"Who?"
"Caroline Mercer."
Then:
May you like
"And the hospital says her infant's death record is missing."
CUT.
