Chapter 6: The Brother Who Came Looking
Denise pushed us through a narrow door at the back of the records office.
“Follow the corridor to the loading bay,” she whispered.
“Don't stop for anyone.””
Caleb held the envelope against his chest.
“What about you?””
“I'll handle Daniel.””
“That's not an answer.””
She gripped his shoulder.
“Caleb, I have spent twenty-two years regretting that I didn't do more for the families whose records disappeared. I'm not letting another person destroy the evidence.””
The footsteps outside the office grew louder.
“Denise?”” the man called again.
“Open the door.””
She stepped back.
“Go.””
Caleb hesitated for one final second before taking my hand.
We hurried down the corridor.
The emergency lights flickered above us, casting red shadows across the abandoned hospital walls. Somewhere behind us, the office door slammed open.
A man's voice erupted.
“What have you done?””
Then came the sound of a chair scraping across the floor.
We reached the loading bay and pushed through the metal exit.
Cold air struck my face.
Caleb didn't stop until we reached his car.
He unlocked the doors, threw the envelope onto the back seat, and looked toward the building.
“His missing brother,” he said.
I climbed into the passenger seat.
“Do you think he meant the second baby?””
“Who else could he mean?””
I watched him grip the steering wheel.
“If Daniel Harris is your brother, why would his father hide that?””
“Maybe he wasn't the father of both babies.””
“Then why would Denise call him your missing brother?””
Caleb shook his head.
“I don't know. But we're going to ask him.””
He started the engine.
We drove to a diner three blocks away and parked where we could see the hospital entrance through the window.
Neither of us ordered anything.
Caleb spread the documents across the table, arranging them by date.
The handwritten note from Dr. Harris lay beside the photocopy bearing my mother's signature.
He stared at them for nearly ten minutes.
Finally, he spoke.
“Do you think your mother knew?””
I looked at the signature.
“I don't know.””
“That's the first time you've said that.””
“Because I can't keep defending someone when I don't know what happened.””
He nodded slowly.
“I don't want to believe she was involved.””
“Neither do I.””
“But if she signed the transfer authorization—”
“Then we find out whether it was her signature and what she was told when she signed it.””
Caleb rubbed his face.
“I keep thinking about Ruth.””
I reached across the table and took his hand.
“She raised you.””
“She also lied to me.””
“Both things can be true.””
He looked at me, his eyes exhausted.
“That's what scares me. If someone can love you and still destroy your life, how are you supposed to know who to trust?””
I had no answer.
My phone vibrated.
A text from my mother appeared.
*Please come home. There is something I should have told you years ago.*
I showed Caleb.
He read it twice.
“She's finally ready to talk.””
“Or she's afraid we found the records.””
He didn't argue.
We left the diner and drove to my mother's house.
When we arrived, the front door stood open.
My mother's car was in the driveway, but the living room lights were off.
“Mom?”” I called as we entered.
No answer.
I hurried toward the kitchen.
A mug lay shattered on the floor. Water had spread beneath the table, and a chair had been knocked sideways.
Caleb moved ahead of me.
“Margaret?””
A sound came from upstairs.
We ran.
My mother's bedroom door was open. Her wardrobe had been pulled apart, and clothes lay scattered across the floor.
The bedside drawer had been emptied.
The photograph of Elias I'd seen that afternoon was gone.
My mother stood beside the window, gripping the curtains.
When she turned, I saw a red mark around her wrist.
“Mom!””
I rushed to her.
“What happened?””
She clutched me so tightly that I could barely breathe.
“Someone came here.””
“Who?””
“I don't know. A man. He demanded the hospital documents. When I told him I didn't have them, he started searching the house.””
Caleb looked at the open drawer.
“What did he take?””
“The photograph of Elias. My old hospital bracelet. And a letter.””
“What letter?”” I asked.
My mother closed her eyes.
“The letter I received three weeks after the birth.””
I stared at her.
“You told us there were no other documents.””
“I know.””
“Why didn't you tell us about this?””
“Because I was ashamed.””
Caleb stepped closer.
“What did the letter say?””
My mother looked at him.
“It said one of my babies had been transferred to another family. It said the arrangement had been approved because I was considered medically and emotionally unfit to care for two children.””
My mouth fell open.
“Who wrote it?””
“Evelyn Price.””
Caleb's voice became dangerously quiet.
“Did you sign the transfer?””
My mother shook her head.
“No. I never agreed to give either of my children away.””
“Then why does your signature appear on the hospital document?””
She looked at the papers in his hands.
For a moment, she seemed unable to understand what she was seeing.
Then she covered her mouth.
“That's my signature.””
I felt the floor shift beneath me.
Caleb stared at her.
“You said you never signed anything authorizing a transfer.””
“I didn't know what I was signing!””
“What does that mean?””
My mother sat on the edge of the bed.
“When I woke up after the delivery, Evelyn brought me a stack of papers. She said they were necessary to process the babies' medical care. I asked her where my children were. She told me one had died and the other was too sick for me to see.””
“But you signed them,” Caleb said.
“Yes. I was sedated, terrified, and barely able to hold a pen. She kept pointing to the signature lines. I believed I was authorizing medical treatment.””
“Did you read the documents?””
“No.””
“Did you ask for copies?””
“I did. She told me they would be mailed to me.””
My mother began crying.
“Nothing ever arrived.””
Caleb turned away and paced toward the window.
“Someone forged a transfer authorization using your signature.””
“Or tricked me into signing it,” she whispered.
I sat beside her.
“Why didn't you tell us about the letter?””
“Because it said my children had been separated for their safety. It warned me that if I tried to interfere, I could lose custody of Emma.””
I stared at her.
“They threatened to take me away?””
She nodded.
“I was a new mother with no money and no family to protect me. Your father was gone, and I had just been told that my newborn sons were dead or missing. I was afraid that if I fought them, they'd take you, too.””
I took her hand.
“Mom, I was never in danger from you.””
“I know that now.””
Her voice broke.
“But back then, every person in authority told me I was unstable. They said grief had made me confused. They said I was imagining the second baby.””
Caleb stopped pacing.
“Did you keep the letter?””
“I hid it in the bedside drawer. I read it so many times that I memorized every word.””
“What did it say about the second baby?””
My mother looked at him.
“That he had been placed with a suitable guardian.””
“Who?””
“Evelyn never named the family.””
Caleb pulled out the photocopy from the records office.
“Does Ruth Morgan's name mean anything to you?””
My mother stared at the page.
Then she shook her head.
“No. I never knew who raised you.””
Caleb sat down heavily.
“Ruth said she received me through a foster placement. She claimed she found out who I was later.””
“Did she know I was alive?”” my mother asked.
“Yes.””
“Then why didn't she bring you to me?””
Caleb looked at her.
“Because she was afraid of losing me.””
My mother lowered her head.
For the first time, I saw something other than grief in her expression.
Anger.
Not the loud, explosive anger of someone demanding revenge, but something deeper. Something that had survived twenty-two years of being told to stay quiet.
“I want the truth,” she said.
“So do I,” Caleb replied.
My phone buzzed again.
An unknown number.
*Daniel Harris wants to meet you. Tonight. Come alone.*
A second message appeared immediately.
*He says he knows why your mother signed the papers.*
I showed Caleb.
He shook his head.
“It's a trap.””
“Maybe.””
“No, Emma. Someone broke into your mother's house, took the evidence, and now wants us to meet a stranger alone.””
My mother gripped my hand.
“Don't go.””
I looked at the message again.
Then another text arrived.
This one contained a photograph of a young man standing beside a hospital window.
He had dark hair, a narrow face, and a thin curved scar above his left eyebrow.
The same scar Caleb had.
The caption read:
*Daniel Harris is not your brother. He is the boy who was supposed to replace you.*
Caleb went white.
My mother stared at the photograph.
Then she whispered something that made the room feel suddenly airless.
“That's impossible.””
I turned toward her.
“Why?””
She pointed at the screen with a trembling finger.
“Because I've seen that face before.””
Caleb took the phone from my hand.
“Where?””
My mother began to cry.
“On the night your father died.””
For a moment, nobody spoke.
My father had died when I was eleven. A car accident on a rainy highway. That's what I'd been told all my life.
I had never questioned it.
But my mother was looking at that photograph as though it had opened a grave.
“Mom,” I whispered.
“What does Daniel Harris have to do with Dad?””
She stared at Caleb, then at me.
“Your father wasn't supposed to be anywhere near St. Agnes that night,” she said.
“But he went there anyway.””
Caleb leaned forward.
“Why?””
My mother closed her eyes.
“Because he had discovered that one of the babies taken from the hospital wasn't a Carter at all.””
May you like
She opened her eyes again.
“And the night he died, he was on his way to tell me who that baby really was.””
