Chapter 4: The Woman Who Never Died
"Daniel, what exactly did Brenda tell you last night?""
My brother exhaled shakily through the phone.
"She said the child had found something. A photograph, maybe a letter. She wouldn't explain. She just kept asking me whether I had told you anything about Rebecca.""
I looked at the photograph resting on my lap.
The young woman holding the newborn had looked frightened, but there was something determined in her expression, too. Whoever she was, she had wanted someone to know the truth.
And somehow, she had known I might be the person who could uncover it.
"Why would Brenda think you had told me anything?"" I asked.
"Because she knows about the letter I found in Sarah's belongings.""
"Then why didn't you tell me about it six months ago?""
"Because I was afraid.""
The honesty in his voice stopped me.
Daniel had always been the person everyone relied on. After our parents died, he had worked two jobs to keep us afloat. When Sarah became ill, he had spent months sleeping in hospital chairs without once complaining. Even after her death, he had done everything possible to make Lily's life feel normal.
Hearing him admit that he was afraid made the situation feel more dangerous than ever.
"Afraid of Brenda?""
"Afraid of what the truth would do to my daughter.""
He paused.
"If Lily isn't biologically mine, that doesn't change how I feel about her. You know that. But if someone deliberately switched those babies, then somebody stole a child from her mother. And somebody else spent eight years believing she was raising her own daughter.""
I glanced at Emma.
She had turned toward the window, watching the cars pass on the road.
"Daniel," I said carefully, "what if the little girl sitting beside me really is Rebecca's daughter?""
He went silent.
"What if she isn't Lily?""
"I don't know.""
"Then we need answers.""
"Yes," he whispered.
"We do.""
I asked him to meet us at my house. He agreed, but insisted that we stay away from Brenda until he arrived.
Before hanging up, he added one last warning.
"Claire, there's something else. Brenda wasn't the only person at that hospital who knew Rebecca.""
"Who else?""
"The doctor who signed both birth certificates.""
He gave me the name.
Dr. Martin Hale.
I wrote it down on the back of a receipt.
Then I ended the call.
For several seconds, Emma and I sat in silence.
Finally, she spoke.
"Is my daddy going to come?""
The question caught me off guard.
"Your daddy?""
She nodded.
"Mommy said he would find me someday.""
I turned toward her.
"Do you remember your daddy?""
She frowned, searching her memory.
"I remember a man with a blue shirt. He used to carry me on his shoulders. Mommy said he went away because he had to work far away.""
Her eyes filled with tears.
"But I don't remember his face very well.""
I swallowed hard.
"That's okay, sweetheart. You don't have to remember everything right now.""
She looked at the photograph again.
"Is that my mommy?""
"Yes," I said softly.
"I think it is.""
"Is she really dead?""
I couldn't bring myself to answer.
I had no proof that Rebecca was alive, but Daniel's story had opened a possibility that seemed almost impossible.
What if the hospital had lied?
What if Rebecca had survived and spent years searching for the daughter someone had taken from her?
And what if Brenda had known the entire time?
I reached into the glove compartment and found a packet of tissues.
Emma accepted one and carefully wiped her cheeks.
Then she asked a question that made me realize how much more she knew than she had told us.
"Do you know a woman named Mrs. Carter?""
I froze.
"Why?""
"She came to the house last night.""
"What house?""
"Brenda's house.""
My heartbeat quickened.
"What did she look like?""
"She had gray hair and wore glasses. She brought a big envelope. Brenda told me to stay upstairs, but I heard them arguing.""
"What were they arguing about?""
Emma hesitated.
Then she leaned toward me.
"Mrs. Carter said the girl had to be returned before Monday.""
A chill traveled down my spine.
"Returned where?""
"I don't know. Brenda said she couldn't do it again. Then Mrs. Carter said she had already done it once, and she would do it again if she had to.""
I gripped the edge of the seat.
"What else did you hear?""
Emma closed her eyes, concentrating.
"Mrs. Carter said the hospital had kept the secret for eight years. She said nobody could find out now.""
My mouth went dry.
"Did Brenda say anything?""
Emma nodded.
"She said she had followed the instructions. She said the wrong baby had been taken home, and everyone had believed it.""
I stared at the child.
"Did she say which baby?""
"No.""
Emma looked down at her hands.
"But then Mrs. Carter said, 'Rebecca was never supposed to wake up.''"
For a moment, I couldn't hear anything except the pounding of my heart.
Rebecca was never supposed to wake up.
That wasn't the kind of thing people said about a woman who had died naturally.
It sounded like a confession.
I started the car.
"We're going to my house," I told Emma.
"My brother will meet us there, and we'll figure this out together.""
She nodded, but she didn't look relieved.
Instead, she asked, "Will you promise not to let Brenda take me back?""
I reached over and squeezed her hand.
"I promise.""
Then I drove away.
I had barely reached the main road when my phone began ringing again.
Brenda's name appeared on the screen.
I ignored it.
She called again.
And again.
On the fifth attempt, I answered, keeping the phone on speaker.
"Where are you?"" she demanded.
"Somewhere you can't reach us.""
"Claire, listen to me. You need to bring that child back immediately.""
"Why?""
"Because you don't understand what you've gotten yourself into.""
"Then explain it.""
She made a frustrated sound.
"That girl is dangerous.""
I glanced at Emma.
"She's eight years old.""
"You have no idea what she's capable of.""
"She's capable of telling me what she heard you and Mrs. Carter discussing.""
The line went silent.
I continued.
"She told me Rebecca was never supposed to wake up. Do you want to explain that?""
For several seconds, Brenda didn't speak.
Then her voice changed.
It became quiet, almost pleading.
"Claire, please. You have to understand. I didn't have a choice.""
The words sent a cold wave through me.
"What didn't you have a choice about?""
"I did what I was told to do.""
"Who told you?""
She began crying.
It sounded so genuine that, for one foolish moment, I almost felt sorry for her.
Then she said something that destroyed whatever sympathy I might have had.
"If you keep that child, they'll come for both of you.""
The call ended.
I stared at the phone.
Emma had heard every word.
"Who's coming?"" she whispered.
I didn't know.
But as I turned onto the road leading to my neighborhood, I noticed a dark sedan following us.
It had been behind us since the pharmacy.
When I changed lanes, it changed lanes.
When I slowed down, it slowed down.
And when I turned onto a side street, it turned with me.
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel.
"Emma, I need you to do something for me.""
She looked at me immediately.
"Don't look behind us. Just stay down in your seat.""
Her eyes widened.
"Is it Mrs. Carter?""
"I don't know.""
I made another turn, then a second, trying to see whether the sedan would follow.
It did.
My pulse raced.
I called Daniel and told him what was happening.
"Don't go home," he said immediately.
"Drive to the police station.""
"What about you?""
"I'm already on my way. I'll meet you there.""
I followed his instructions, keeping my eyes on the road.
The sedan remained behind us for another three blocks.
Then, just before I reached the police station, it accelerated past my car.
As it passed, the passenger window lowered.
An elderly woman turned toward me.
Gray hair.
Glasses.
A large envelope resting on her lap.
Mrs. Carter.
She smiled at me.
Then she held up a photograph.
Even from several feet away, I recognized the image.
It was a picture of me.
Taken outside my house.
And beneath it, someone had written three words in thick black ink.
*SHE KNOWS EVERYTHING.*
The sedan disappeared into traffic.
I drove straight into the police station parking lot and called Daniel again.
He answered before the first ring had finished.
"Claire?""
"Daniel, I think someone has been watching me.""
His breathing became ragged.
"Did you see who it was?""
"Mrs. Carter.""
He said nothing.
Then I heard a sound I had never heard from my brother before.
He began to cry.
"Daniel, what's wrong?""
May you like
His answer came in a whisper.
"Because Mrs. Carter died five years ago.""
