Chapter 8: Room Twelve
At 6:15 the following morning, Emma stood outside Damien Carter's gates.
The sky was pale gray, and the lawns glistened with rain. She had spent the last three hours trying to convince herself that the woman on the phone might be lying.
But the photograph of Sophie had destroyed that hope.
Someone had taken a picture of the child sleeping inside Damien's house.
Someone could reach her.
The gate opened before Emma pressed the intercom.
A security guard stepped outside.
“Miss Ellis? Mr. Carter said you'd come.””
Emma stopped.
“He was expecting me?””
“Yes, ma'am.””
“Did he tell you why?””
The guard looked uncomfortable.
“He said to let you in immediately.””
Emma entered.
Damien was waiting in the kitchen, still wearing yesterday's clothes. An untouched cup of coffee sat on the counter beside a stack of documents.
He looked as if he hadn't slept.
“Where's Sophie?”” Emma asked.
“Upstairs with her nanny.””
“Is she safe?””
His expression sharpened.
“Why wouldn't she be?””
Emma placed her phone on the counter and showed him the photograph.
His face changed.
“Where did you get this?””
“Someone sent it to me.””
“When?””
“Last night.””
Damien picked up the phone and enlarged the image.
“That was taken inside Sophie's bedroom.””
“I know.””
He immediately called his head of security.
“Lock down the property. Check every camera, every access log, every employee who entered the house in the last forty-eight hours. Nobody leaves until I know how this happened.””
He ended the call.
Emma watched him.
“Did you know Charlotte was alive?””
“No.””
“Did you know someone was searching for her?””
“Not until last night.””
“Did you know what happened at midnight on the night we were born?””
Damien went completely still.
Emma felt her heart sink.
“You do know something.””
He placed the phone on the counter.
“My father told me a story when I was little. He said the night Isabelle gave birth, there was a medical emergency. One of the babies stopped breathing.””
Emma's mouth went dry.
“Which baby?””
“He never said.””
“What happened next?””
“He told me that the doctors saved one child, but the other was declared dead.””
Emma felt sick.
“And you never thought to mention this?””
“I didn't connect it to you. I was six when he told me.””
“You're telling me your father knew one of the babies had supposedly died, and you never questioned why the family had no grave, no funeral, no medical record?””
Damien looked down.
“I was a child.””
“And now?””
He raised his eyes.
“Now I think someone used that story to cover up what really happened.””
Emma took a step back.
“Charlotte told me you know which one of us was supposed to die.””
Damien's face lost color.
“You spoke to her?””
“She called me.””
“When?””
“Last night.””
He gripped the edge of the counter.
“What did she say?””
“That I should go to St. Catherine's. Room Twelve.””
Damien stared at her.
Then he reached for his keys.
“I'm coming with you.””
“No.””
“Emma, if Charlotte is involved, you shouldn't go alone.””
“I'm not asking you to protect me. I'm asking you to stop hiding things.””
He looked as though she had struck him.
“I don't know what else you think I'm hiding.””
“Then you'll have no problem answering my questions when we get there.””
Emma turned toward the stairs.
“I want to see Sophie before we leave.””
Damien followed her.
Sophie was sitting cross-legged on her bed, arranging stuffed animals in a circle. When she saw Emma, she jumped up and ran toward her.
“You came back!””
Emma knelt and hugged her.
“Of course I did.””
Sophie pulled back and studied her face.
“Are you angry with Daddy?””
Emma glanced at Damien.
“I'm trying to understand some things.””
Sophie lowered her voice.
“Mommy said Daddy wasn't bad. She said he was just scared.””
Emma felt a tightness in her chest.
“Did she tell you why?””
Sophie nodded.
“She said he was afraid of losing someone he loved.””
Damien closed his eyes.
Emma turned toward him.
“Who?””
He didn't answer.
Sophie looked between them.
“Mommy said he would remember when he saw the red ribbon.””
“What red ribbon?”” Emma asked.
Sophie hurried to her bedside drawer and pulled out a small wooden box.
Inside lay a red silk ribbon tied around a tiny silver bell.
Emma recognized it from the photographs of Isabelle holding the twins.
“Where did you get this?””
“It was in Mommy's music box.””
Damien took the bell carefully.
The moment he saw the engraving on its side, he stopped breathing.
Emma read the words.
For my two little stars.
Damien sat on the edge of the bed.
“My father gave this to Isabelle before the twins were born.””
“Why does it upset you?””
He stared at the bell.
“Because I remember seeing it the night my father died.””
Emma felt a chill.
“What?””
“He was holding it. He told my mother that he'd made a terrible mistake.””
“What mistake?””
Damien looked at her.
“I don't know. I was six. I only remember him crying.””
Emma stood.
“Then let's go to the hospital.””
They left Sophie with the nanny and two security guards. Damien arranged for Detective Morgan to meet them at St. Catherine's.
The rehabilitation center occupied the surviving section of the old hospital. Its brick exterior had been renovated, but the narrow windows and faded stone arch above the entrance remained unchanged.
A receptionist led them to the administrative office.
Detective Morgan was waiting with a file.
“I received the photograph you sent,” she told Emma.
“Room Twelve was part of the original maternity ward. Most records from that night were destroyed in the fire.””
“Can we get inside?””
“The room is now used for storage. I've arranged access.””
They followed her down a corridor that smelled of disinfectant and old plaster.
At the end stood a gray door with a small brass number.
12.
Emma's hand trembled as she opened it.
The room was empty except for several cabinets and a metal shelving unit. Sunlight fell through a narrow window, illuminating dust suspended in the air.
“This is where my mother gave birth?””
“According to the surviving records,” Detective Morgan said.
Emma walked toward the far wall.
The paint was newer than the rest.
She ran her fingers along the edge of a cabinet and felt a small indentation beneath it.
“There's something here.””
Damien moved closer.
Together, they shifted the cabinet aside.
A narrow metal panel was concealed behind it.
Detective Morgan called for a technician, who carefully removed the panel.
Inside lay a sealed envelope, a hospital identification card, and a small leather notebook.
Emma opened the envelope.
The first page contained a handwritten list of names.
Doctors.
Nurses.
Hospital administrators.
And beside several names were amounts of money.
At the bottom was a final entry.
*Evelyn Carter — $500,000 — Transfer of infant records.*
Emma stared at it.
“She paid half a million dollars to change the records.””
Detective Morgan photographed the page.
“This is important evidence.””
Emma opened the notebook.
The handwriting belonged to a nurse named Patricia Wells.
The first few entries described the birth, the fire, and the confusion in the maternity ward.
Then Emma reached a page dated October 15.
11:52 p.m. — Dr. Harris ordered Infant B transferred to Room Twelve. Infant A remains with mother.
Emma frowned.
The twins had been born on October 14.
Why was the entry dated the following day?
She turned the page.
*12:07 a.m. — Infant B removed by Margaret Ellis. Instructions received from Dr.
Harris. No further questions permitted.*
Emma felt the blood drain from her face.
Margaret hadn't merely found her.
She had taken her from the hospital.
But the next line was worse.
*12:19 a.m. — Infant A declared deceased. Body not released to family.
Dr. Harris instructed staff to record death before transfer.*
Emma stared at the words.
One baby had been taken.
The other had been declared dead.
But which one was she?
Detective Morgan leaned over the notebook.
“There's a discrepancy here. The dates suggest these records were altered after the fact.””
Damien turned a page.
A folded note slipped out.
He opened it.
The message was brief.
If either child survives, the surviving child must never be allowed to discover the truth. The Carter inheritance depends on it.
Beneath the sentence was a signature.
Richard Carter.
Emma looked at Damien.
“Your father ordered it?””
Damien's eyes widened.
“No.””
“You said he wanted the twins kept together. You said he tried to stop your mother.””
“I don't understand.””
“His signature is right there!””
Damien took the paper, staring at it in disbelief.
Then he noticed something.
The signature was dated October 16.
Two days after the supposed death of one of the twins.
He turned the paper over.
On the back was a second note, written in different handwriting.
Richard has been told both children are dead. Do not let him see the original records.
Damien looked up.
“My father was lied to, too.””
Emma didn't know whether to believe him.
Before she could respond, Detective Morgan's phone rang.
She listened, her expression tightening.
Then she turned toward Emma.
“We've received confirmation from the medical examiner's office. Dr. Harris has been arrested, but he refuses to identify the person who hired him.””
“Why?””
“Because he's demanding a deal.””
Emma looked down at the notebook.
“Then tell him we'll give him one if he tells us where Charlotte is.””
Detective Morgan hesitated.
“He has already given us a name.””
Emma's heart stopped.
“Whose?””
The detective looked directly at Damien.
“Yours, Mr. Carter.””
Damien went rigid.
“What?””
“Harris claims you paid him to keep Charlotte hidden.””
Emma stared at Damien.
He shook his head.
“I never paid him anything.””
Detective Morgan held up a bank statement.
“Three months ago, someone transferred two million dollars from your private account to a company owned by Dr. Harris.””
Emma looked at the date.
Three months earlier.
The same period when Isabelle had died.
Damien's face became ashen.
“I didn't authorize that transfer.””
“Then someone has access to your accounts,” the detective replied.
Emma stepped away from him.
The warning from Charlotte echoed in her mind.
Stop trusting Damien Carter.
She wanted to believe the transfer was a setup.
But as Detective Morgan escorted Damien toward the exit for questioning, Emma noticed a small piece of paper sticking out of his jacket pocket.
A handwritten address.
May you like
And beneath it, two words.
*CHARLOTTE — ALIVE.*
