Chapter 3: The Door Beneath the Hospital
The word basement seemed to echo inside my skull.
I looked at Luke, waiting for him to deny it. I waited for him to laugh, to tell us there had been a mistake, to remind me that he had spent the morning beside me.
He did none of those things.
Instead, he stared at the floor.
“Luke,” I said, “what is in the basement?””
“Hospital equipment. Storage. Maintenance rooms. It's a hospital.””
“Don't play games with me.””
“I'm not.””
“Then tell me where my daughter is!””
My voice broke on the final word.
Ethan wrapped both arms around my hand. He was shaking now, and I could feel every tremor.
Camille handed the tablet back to the nurse.
“Please have security check the service elevator logs and restrict access to the maternity service corridor. Nobody should enter or leave that area without authorization.””
The nurse nodded and hurried away.
Denise stepped forward.
“Are you telling me my daughter could be downstairs?””
“We don't know that yet,” Camille answered.
“But we're checking every credible lead.””
“Then check faster!””
“I understand.””
“No, you don't!”” Denise cried.
“You have your badge and your uniform, and everyone listens when you speak. I'm standing here begging strangers to tell me where my baby is!””
Camille's face softened.
“You're right that I can't know exactly what you're feeling. But I can make sure your daughter is treated as a missing newborn, not a misplaced chart. That's what I'm doing.””
Denise wiped her face with both hands.
I watched her, and shame washed over me.
Only an hour earlier, I'd been complaining to Luke that I was tired and wanted to go home. I'd worried about whether June would sleep through the night, whether Ethan would feel overlooked, and whether we'd have enough room in the nursery.
Denise had been holding her baby too.
Now she was standing in my room, wondering whether her child was alive and safe.
And my husband might know the answer.
“Why?”” I asked Luke.
He lifted his head.
“What?””
“Why would you do this?””
“I didn't.””
“Ethan saw you.””
“Ethan saw something he didn't understand.””
My son shook his head.
“I understood.””
Luke turned toward him.
“You're eight years old.””
“And you're my dad!””
The words struck harder than a shout.
Ethan's lower lip trembled.
“You told me that when June came, I would always be her big brother. You told me you'd never let anything happen to her.””
Luke looked away.
Ethan began to cry in earnest.
“Why did you take her?””
I had never heard my son sound so small.
Luke opened his mouth, but whatever answer he had prepared never came.
Camille moved beside Ethan and rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
“Would you like to sit with your mother while we speak to your dad?””
Ethan shook his head.
“I don't want him to go.””
I looked up at Camille.
“Neither do I.””
She nodded once.
“We'll make sure security knows that.””
A second officer entered the room. He spoke quietly with his colleague, then positioned himself near the doorway. Luke glanced between the two men.
“Am I being detained?””
“You've been asked to remain while the hospital investigates a possible newborn identification breach,” the officer replied.
“If you have questions about your legal status, we can clarify them with the appropriate authorities.””
Luke gave a short, humorless laugh.
“This is insane.””
He reached into his trouser pocket.
Both officers immediately focused on his hand.
“Sir, please tell us what you're reaching for.””
“My phone.””
“Take it out slowly and keep your hands visible.””
Luke followed the instruction, his face reddening with humiliation. He held up the phone.
“I have a family. I have a job. I have done nothing to deserve this.””
“Then cooperate with the investigation,” the officer said.
Luke looked at me.
“Tell them to stop treating me like this.””
I stared at him.
“Tell me where June is, and I'll have something to say.””
He lowered his phone.
For a moment, the only sound was the soft ventilation above us and the faint rustle of Ethan's sweatshirt as he leaned against my arm.
Then Luke's phone vibrated.
He glanced down at the screen.
His face changed so quickly that I almost missed it.
His thumb hovered over the notification.
“Who is it?”” I asked.
“No one.””
“Luke.””
“It's work.””
“Then answer it.””
He turned the screen away.
The security officer noticed.
“Sir, given the circumstances, please don't delete or alter anything that may be relevant to the investigation.””
Luke's head snapped up.
“I wasn't going to delete anything!””
“Then there's no need to argue.””
Luke shoved the phone into his pocket.
Camille approached him.
“Mr. Carter, I need you to answer a question clearly. Did you remove a newborn from the nursery this morning?””
“No.””
“Did you exchange one infant's identification band with another?””
“No.””
“Did you ask any staff member to move a newborn outside the maternity unit?””
Luke hesitated.
It was barely a second.
But everyone saw it.
“Luke?”” I whispered.
He rubbed his mouth with his palm.
“I spoke to someone about a transfer.””
Camille's expression sharpened.
“What transfer?””
“A medical transfer.””
“For which infant?””
“I don't remember.””
“You don't remember which baby you asked to have transferred?””
“I was tired. Your wife had just given birth. Everything was happening at once.””
I stared at him.
“You told me you never left the room.””
He looked at me, and I saw something flicker in his eyes.
Fear.
Not confusion. Not anger.
Fear.
“I stepped out for a few minutes.””
“You said you were getting coffee.””
“I was.””
“Then why did Ethan see you carrying June?””
Luke pressed his lips together.
Camille spoke slowly.
“Mr. Carter, a legitimate medical transfer would be documented. The baby's identification would be checked by authorized staff, and the destination would be recorded. We are not aware of any authorized transfer involving either of these infants.””
Luke's shoulders sagged slightly.
“I didn't know what else to do.””
The words were so quiet that I almost thought I'd imagined them.
I felt my stomach tighten.
“What does that mean?””
He looked at me.
“I was trying to fix something.””
“Fix what?””
He swallowed.
“I can explain.””
“Then explain!””
“Not here.””
I laughed once, a sharp sound that didn't feel like mine.
“Not here? My daughter is missing, another woman's baby is in my room, and you're worried about where you explain yourself?””
Luke looked toward the officers.
“I need to speak privately.””
“No,” I said.
He turned back to me.
“Please.””
The word startled me. Luke rarely begged. He negotiated, argued, persuaded. He had always believed there was a way to control a situation if he found the right words.
Now his voice shook.
“Please, just give me a chance to explain before you decide what happened.””
I searched his face for the man I'd married.
I remembered him sitting beside me in our kitchen six years earlier, helping Ethan sound out words from a picture book. I remembered the night Ethan had a fever and Luke drove through a storm to find an open pharmacy. I remembered how he'd cried when we first saw June's ultrasound image, pressing his forehead against mine and whispering that our family was finally complete.
Had those moments been real?
Or had I spent eleven years loving a man who could do something like this?
“I don't get to decide what happened,” I told him.
“The truth does.””
Before he could answer, the nurse returned with another staff member. The new arrival carried a printed record and wore the tense expression of someone who had just found a detail she wished she hadn't.
“Camille,” she said, “security checked the service elevator footage.””
Camille took the paper.
“What did they find?””
“The camera shows Mr. Carter entering the basement corridor at 9:17.””
Luke's eyes closed.
The nurse continued.
“He wasn't carrying a baby when he entered. But he was carrying a folded hospital blanket when he came back upstairs.””
My mouth went dry.
“Where was June?””
“We don't know yet,” Camille replied.
The nurse glanced down at the printed record.
“There's one more detail. The elevator stopped on the basement level for three minutes. When the doors opened again, Mr. Carter was alone.””
Denise made a sound like someone had struck her.
I couldn't move.
Luke stood at the foot of my bed, trapped between the security officers and the questions he could no longer evade.
“Luke,” I whispered.
“What did you do with our daughter?””
He stared at the floor.
Then his phone vibrated again.
This time, the sound seemed unbearably loud.
The officer held out his hand.
“Sir, I need you to tell us who is contacting you.””
Luke didn't answer.
The officer repeated the request.
Luke slowly took out the phone and looked at the screen.
A message glowed beneath an unfamiliar number.
His lips parted.
I watched the blood drain from his face as he read it.
Then, for the first time since our son had accused him, Luke looked directly at me.
May you like
“She's not where I left her,” he whispered.
And before anyone could ask what he meant, the phone slipped from his hand and struck the floor.
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