Chapter 5: The Woman Who Signed My Death Certificate
Victor insisted that we leave the administrative room separately.
He said it would be better if my mother wasn't forced to answer questions while she was frightened, and Lieutenant Commander Reed agreed that any further inquiry should be handled through the appropriate channels.
I barely heard them.
Margaret Vale.
The name had lodged itself in my mind.
A woman who had signed a report declaring me dead had apparently continued searching for me long after my mother changed my name.
I couldn't understand why.
More importantly, I couldn't understand why my mother looked as if the name itself could destroy her.
When Reed stepped into the hallway to make a call, I caught Victor's sleeve.
"Tell me everything you know about her.""
He looked toward the window.
"Not here.""
"Why not?""
"Because I don't know who might overhear us, and I don't want to give you guesses dressed up as facts.""
I pulled my hand away.
"You've had twenty years to investigate this. You must know something.""
"I know Margaret Vale was the hospital administrator who handled the paperwork surrounding your birth. I know she was involved in the initial review of the records. And I know that when I tried to contact her years later, I was told she'd retired and moved away.""
"Did you find her?""
"Not then.""
"What about now?""
He hesitated.
"Six months ago, an investigator found a possible address in coastal Georgia. By the time we contacted the property manager, the house had been sold.""
"Was she there?""
"We couldn't establish that.""
I stared at him.
"So you've been looking for me, and you've been looking for her.""
"Yes.""
"Why didn't you tell me that when you arrived?""
"Because I didn't know whether you were safe. And because I didn't know what your mother had told you.""
I looked toward the hallway where Denise had disappeared.
"She told me you were dead.""
Victor's expression softened with pain.
"I know.""
"She said you abandoned us.""
"I know.""
"She said you didn't want children.""
He closed his eyes.
That answer hurt him more than the others.
"I wanted you both more than anything," he said.
"I have a photograph of Marcus in my wallet. He was holding a toy airplane when I left. I promised him I'd bring him a real one when I came home.""
I swallowed.
"Did you?""
"No.""
The simplicity of his answer broke something inside me.
He reached into his wallet and showed me a small photograph of a little boy with a missing front tooth, holding a bright red toy airplane.
Marcus.
I had never seen him that young.
For the first time, I imagined my brother waiting for a father who never came home, while my mother told him a story that wasn't true.
"Does Marcus know you're here?"" I asked.
"No.""
"Are you going to tell him?""
"Only when we understand enough to explain what happened.""
I returned the photograph.
"I don't know whether I can trust you.""
"You shouldn't trust me just because I'm your father.""
The word landed between us.
Father.
I had spent twenty-four years treating it like a missing piece of a family portrait. Now it had a face, a voice, and a history I couldn't verify.
Victor continued.
"Ask me questions. Demand documents. Take your time. I won't ask you to believe anything until the evidence supports it.""
I looked at him for a long moment.
"Then help me find Margaret Vale.""
He nodded.
"That's exactly what I intend to do.""
We returned to the ceremony entrance.
The crowd had thinned, and the limousine remained parked in the designated lane. Denise stood beneath a white awning, speaking rapidly into her phone.
When she saw me, she ended the call.
"Nia, thank God.""
I stopped several feet away.
"Who were you calling?""
"My attorney.""
"Good. Then you can explain everything to them.""
Her expression crumpled.
"I never wanted this to happen.""
"Did you know Margaret Vale was still looking for me?""
She didn't answer.
"Mom?""
Denise glanced at Victor.
He said nothing.
Finally, she whispered, "I received a letter from her last year.""
My heart lurched.
"What did it say?""
"She wanted to meet.""
"Why didn't you tell me?""
"Because I didn't know what she wanted.""
"Did you meet her?""
"No.""
Victor stepped forward.
"Where is the letter?""
Denise shook her head.
"I threw it away.""
"Why?""
"Because I was afraid.""
"Of Margaret?""
She looked at me.
"Of what she might tell you.""
I felt as if the ground had shifted again.
"Did she know I was alive?""
Denise looked away.
That was answer enough.
I took a step toward her.
"All these years, you knew there was someone who might have answers about my birth. You knew she was still trying to contact you. And you never told me.""
"I wanted to keep you out of it.""
"You kept me out of my own life.""
Her shoulders collapsed.
For a moment, I thought she might finally tell me everything.
Instead, she reached for my hand.
"Please come home with me. We can sit down and talk without him here.""
I pulled away.
"No.""
"Nia, I'm your mother.""
"And I'm the daughter you tried to have removed from a public ceremony.""
Her eyes filled again.
"I made mistakes.""
"You made decisions. Over and over again. You decided what I could know, who I could remember, and which parts of my own history I was allowed to ask about.""
She began to cry.
I didn't feel triumphant.
I felt tired.
Victor stood beside me, silent and still.
I turned toward him.
"Do you have someone who can help us locate Margaret?""
"I have a private investigator who worked on the original search.""
"Call him.""
Victor took out his phone.
While he spoke, I sat on a low stone wall overlooking the water. Boats moved across the river, leaving narrow trails behind them. A couple nearby laughed as they posed for photographs. A child ran toward his father, who caught him around the waist and lifted him into the air.
I looked away.
For twenty-four years, I had imagined my missing father as a man who chose not to come home.
Now I had to consider the possibility that someone had taken him away from me by convincing him that I was dead.
And the woman who raised me had helped maintain that lie.
Victor ended the call and came to sit beside me.
"His name is Daniel Brooks," he said.
"He handled my search before. He's still working in the area.""
"Can he find Margaret?""
"He believes he may have located someone connected to her former office.""
"When can we meet him?""
"Tomorrow morning.""
I nodded.
Then I remembered the note.
The three-pointed star.
The message warning Victor not to pursue me.
"Why did Margaret keep searching for me if she was involved in hiding what happened?""
Victor stared at the river.
"That's the question I've never been able to answer.""
Before I could respond, his phone vibrated.
He looked at the screen.
The color drained from his face.
"What is it?""
He turned the phone toward me.
A message had arrived from an unknown number.
There was no greeting.
No explanation.
Only one sentence.
If Nia Carter has finally met Victor Hayes, you need to know that the wrong baby went home from that hospital.
I read it twice.
My hands began to shake.
"Who sent that?""
"I don't know.""
A second message appeared.
This one contained an attachment.
Victor opened it.
The photograph showed two infant identification bracelets lying beside each other on a hospital counter. One bore the name Nia Elise Hayes. The other bore the name of a baby girl registered as Carter.
The dates matched.
So did the hospital.
But there was something else.
Someone had written two different times on the back of the photograph.
One read 2:17 A.M.
The other read 2:41 A.M.
Victor stared at the image.
"That's impossible.""
"Why?""
He enlarged the photograph with trembling fingers.
"Because you were born at 2:17. The hospital records said the other baby was born at 2:41.""
I looked at the two bracelets.
"Maybe that's why the records were wrong.""
Victor shook his head.
"No. Look at the handwriting.""
I leaned closer.
The two times had been written by the same person.
And beside the later time was a tiny notation.
Exchange completed.
I felt sick.
The message sender had claimed that the wrong baby went home.
If that was true, then someone had known about the exchange from the beginning.
Someone had documented it.
Someone had kept the photograph for twenty-four years.
And someone had waited until Victor and I finally met to send it.
My phone rang.
The number was blocked.
I answered without thinking.
"Hello?""
For several seconds, I heard only breathing.
Then an older woman's voice spoke.
"Nia?""
My blood ran cold.
"Who is this?""
"My name is Margaret Vale.""
I stood so quickly that the stone wall scraped against my legs.
Victor rose beside me.
The woman continued, her voice trembling.
"I know you've just learned that your birth records don't match. I know your mother has told you almost nothing. And I know Victor has been searching for the truth.""
"Then tell me what happened.""
A pause.
"I can't explain it over the phone.""
"Why not?""
"Because the person who arranged the exchange is still alive.""
I looked at Victor.
His face had become completely still.
Margaret lowered her voice.
"Meet me tomorrow at ten o'clock. Bring Victor, but don't bring your mother.""
"Why?""
"Because I have spent twenty-four years trying to correct what I helped destroy.""
I tightened my grip on the phone.
"What did you destroy?""
Her answer came in a whisper.
"Your real identity.""
The call ended.
May you like
And when I looked back at the photograph of the two infant bracelets, I realized the worst possibility wasn't that I'd been raised by the wrong family.
It was that the person who should have raised me had been searching for me, too.
