Chapter 11: The Woman Behind the Locked Door
The first police car arrived before we reached the end of Margaret's driveway.
Two officers stepped out.
One held a photograph.
The other carried a set of handcuffs.
“Daniel Moretti?””
I stepped forward.
“Yes.””
“You're under arrest in connection with an attempted assault on Richard Hale.””
James immediately intervened.
“My client has not assaulted anyone. We have evidence that Richard Hale is involved in multiple crimes.””
“Sir, please step back.””
I looked at Grace.
She was standing behind Margaret, terrified.
I couldn't let them take me away.
“James, call the district attorney. Tell him we have evidence of kidnapping, identity fraud, and medical record tampering.””
“I will.””
The officer approached.
“Turn around, Mr. Moretti.””
I did.
The handcuffs closed around my wrists.
Grace rushed forward.
“Don't take him!””
Margaret held her back.
I looked at Grace.
“Listen to me. Don't trust Richard. Don't go anywhere with him.””
She nodded, crying.
Then I turned toward James.
“Find Claire.””
He nodded.
“I promise.””
The police station smelled of coffee and disinfectant.
I sat in an interview room for nearly two hours before a detective entered.
She introduced herself as Detective Laura Bennett.
She placed a folder on the table.
“Mr. Moretti, do you know why you're here?””
“Because Richard Hale wants me silenced.””
She opened the folder.
“Mr. Hale claims you threatened him at a private residence yesterday.””
“That's true. I confronted him.””
“Did you physically attack him?””
“No.””
She studied me.
“Two witnesses say otherwise.””
“His employees?””
She didn't answer.
I leaned forward.
“Detective, Richard Hale has been stealing children, falsifying medical records, and hiding a woman who may be my wife. I have documents proving it.””
She looked at me carefully.
“Do you have those documents with you?””
“No. My attorney has copies.””
She closed the folder.
“Mr. Moretti, I have investigated Richard Hale before. There have been complaints about his business practices, but nothing ever held up.””
“Because he controls the evidence.””
“Perhaps.””
She stood.
“I'm going to verify your attorney's claims.””
Before she left, I said something.
“Detective?””
She turned.
“If you have children, imagine discovering that someone has spent years convincing you that they're dead, disabled, or not yours.””
Her expression softened.
“I'll make some calls.””
Three hours later, James arrived.
He looked exhausted.
“Richard has withdrawn the complaint.””
I stood.
“Why?””
“He wants you to know he's willing to negotiate.””
I laughed without humor.
“I'm not negotiating.””
James handed me a phone.
“Listen to this.””
A recording began.
Richard's voice.
“Daniel, you have something that belongs to me. I have something that belongs to you. Let's end this before more people get hurt.””
The message ended.
I looked at James.
“What does he want?””
“The blue ledger.””
“He already knows Peter gave it to us?””
“Apparently.””
I shook my head.
“Then we're going to give him something else.””
James raised an eyebrow.
“What?””
“A reason to believe we're coming after him.””
By evening, we were outside the medical facility Grace had identified.
It was a private rehabilitation center hidden behind a row of tall trees.
Unlike Hawthorne, this building was still operating.
A sign near the entrance read:
*Greenwood Neurological Recovery Institute.*
James had obtained a temporary court order allowing us to inspect the records connected to Claire Moretti.
The director, Dr. Samuel Price, met us in his office.
“Mr. Moretti, I understand this is a sensitive matter.””
“My wife was brought here under another name.””
Dr. Price adjusted his glasses.
“I cannot confirm or deny patient information without proper authorization.””
James placed the court order on his desk.
“Then you can confirm it now.””
The doctor read the document.
His expression changed.
“Please wait here.””
He left.
Ten minutes passed.
Then twenty.
I paced around the office.
Finally, the doctor returned.
He was carrying a file.
“There's a patient listed under the name Catherine Moore. She was transferred here approximately eighteen months ago.””
“Is it Claire?””
“I can't say.””
“Where is she?””
The doctor hesitated.
“Room 214.””
I stood immediately.
“Take me there.””
He led us through a quiet corridor.
The walls were painted pale green. Machines beeped behind closed doors. Nurses moved between rooms with medication carts.
Room 214 was at the end of the hallway.
A nurse stood outside.
“Doctor, she hasn't eaten today.””
“That's all right,” he said.
“We have visitors.””
He unlocked the door.
I stepped inside.
A woman sat beside the window.
Her hair was silver at the temples.
Her face was thinner than I remembered.
But I knew those eyes.
“Claire?””
She didn't move.
I took another step.
“Claire, it's me.””
Her fingers trembled.
Then she slowly turned her head.
For a moment, she stared at me as if she were looking through a fog.
I knelt beside her chair.
“It's Daniel.””
Her lips moved.
No sound came out.
I took her hand.
“I'm here, sweetheart.””
She squeezed my fingers.
Then a tear rolled down her cheek.
“Daniel?””
I broke.
I pressed my forehead against her hand.
“I thought I had lost you.””
She tried to speak again.
“Girls.””
I lifted my head.
“They're safe.””
Her eyes widened.
“Both?””
I nodded.
“Sophia is safe. And we found Lily.””
Claire began crying.
Then she looked toward the doorway.
“Grace?””
I froze.
“How do you know?””
She gripped my hand harder.
“Richard... took... her.””
I looked at James.
“Grace is alive. She's with Margaret.””
Claire closed her eyes.
Then she whispered:
“Don't let him take the third one.””
My blood ran cold.
“Third one?””
Claire began shaking.
“The baby.””
I leaned closer.
“Claire, what baby?””
She tried to speak.
But the words came out broken.
“Not... Lily. Not... Sophia.””
She looked at me with desperate eyes.
“Another baby.””
I felt the room disappear.
“Claire, how many children did we have?””
She began crying harder.
Then she pointed toward a small cabinet.
James opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
It showed Claire holding a newborn baby.
On the back was a name.
*Grace Moretti.*
But there was another name written beneath it.
*Baby Four — Reserved for Transfer.*
I stared at the words.
Before I could ask what they meant, Claire grabbed my wrist.
“Daniel.””
“Yes?””
She pulled me closer.
“Richard didn't take just one child.””
Her voice trembled.
“He sold them.””
A nurse suddenly entered.
“Doctor, we have a problem.””
Dr. Price turned.
“What happened?””
“Someone called from the administration office. They have requested an immediate patient transfer.””
“Which patient?””
The nurse looked at Claire.
“Catherine Moore.””
I stood.
“Who authorized it?””
The nurse showed the doctor a document.
He read it.
Then his face turned pale.
“It's signed by the medical director.””
James snatched the paper.
“That's impossible. The medical director is standing right here.””
Dr. Price looked at the signature.
Then he whispered:
“Someone has forged my name.””
I turned toward Claire.
She was trembling violently.
“Richard,” she whispered.
The lights in the corridor flickered.
A distant alarm began sounding.
And from the doorway, a security guard shouted:
“Everyone out! We've lost access to the building's security system!””
James grabbed my arm.
“Daniel, we need to move.””
But Claire held my hand.
She was looking at the open doorway.
A man stood there.
Wearing a white medical coat.
Holding a syringe.
“Good evening, Mrs. Moretti,” he said.
May you like
Then he smiled.
“Mr. Hale sends his regards.””
