Chapter 6 - The Signature That Was His
"I didn't sign a release at St. Agnes," Vincent said.
He had agreed to meet Naomi and me at Judith's office when Evelyn's report arrived. The scan was grainy, its lower right corner darkened by an old copier. But the handwriting on the authorization line was unmistakably similar to his.
I stared at the loops of his initials. "You told me you weren't there."
"I wasn't."
"Then help me understand why I should believe you."
His face tightened. He reached for the paper and stopped, waiting for permission. Naomi slid it toward him.
"The signature isn't enough to know who signed," she said. "We need the original and any corroborating access records."
Vincent opened his briefcase and removed a passport stamped at Milan Malpensa Airport the previous day, then a travel itinerary and corporate expense record. "I landed in Chicago at noon. The release time was 3:41 in the morning."
"A passport stamp doesn't prove where you were at every minute," Judith said, "but the flight record will help. I'll request it."
I wanted him to be innocent. That frightened me almost as much as suspecting him. I'd spent too long wanting a story where someone else could carry all the guilt.
Then Judith showed us another page. The old petition said I had been notified by certified mail. The listed address belonged to a vacant office that one of Francesca's companies had leased for years. The proof of service was signed by an individual named Arthur Sloane, a legal courier formerly employed by the Bellini family.
"It's not final evidence of a crime," Judith said. "But it's enough to ask serious questions."
We filed a motion to examine the case record and a petition to establish my parental status. Judith also arranged for Vincent to authorize a properly witnessed DNA comparison, with specimens collected at a recognized clinic. It would answer the biological question without the privacy problem I'd created with a toothbrush.
Three days later we sat in a Cook County courtroom beneath fluorescent lights that made everyone look ill. The judge reviewed the filings and asked whether the parties intended to expose Leo to public accusations while the matter was pending.
"No, Your Honor," Vincent said.
"I hope that's more than an aspiration."
The judge ordered production of several records, set a prompt evidentiary hearing, and approved a plan under which a child therapist would assess Leo's needs before recommending contact with me. Until then, neither side was to contact him through school or use him to collect information. It was not a victory. It was a beginning with boundaries.
Outside the courtroom Camille waited beside Francesca. Her blonde hair was immaculate, and her voice was soft enough for only our group to hear.
"You know that unauthorized DNA report makes you look unhinged," she told me.
"I know it was wrong," I said. "I won't pretend otherwise."
She hadn't expected that answer. Vincent stepped between us before she could say more.
"Camille, we're postponing the wedding," he said.
"Because of her?"
"Because you've lied about requesting the hospital file. And because Leo has been frightened enough."
Her eyes shone with tears that could have been genuine. "Your mother asked me to protect him. Everything I've done has been for that child."
"Then give Judith your emails with my mother and the hospital."
Camille looked at Francesca. Neither woman spoke.
At the elevator, Vincent turned to me. "Leo asked whether you were sick because you haven't come back. I told him you're well. He's working with a counselor who explains complicated things without asking him to choose sides."
"Can you tell him I'm thinking of him?"
"I'll ask the counselor how to say it."
That night I slept for the first time since the confrontation. Not because I trusted the system completely, but because I had stopped trying to force it to move at the speed of my fear.
The next morning Judith received a call from the legal courier whose signature appeared on the old proof of service.
May you like
Arthur Sloane was willing to speak, but only if Vincent came alone.
"I helped your family bury something," he told Judith. "And it wasn't just a document."
