Chapter 2 - CLAIRE’S SECRET
I read the message eleven times.
The letters did not change.
TRUST EMMA CARTER.
Claire had written Emma’s full name inside a pendant locked in my safe months before Emma supposedly entered our lives.
I walked into Sophie’s hospital room carrying the evidence bag.
Emma looked up immediately.
“How is she?” I asked.
“Her temperature is normal now. The doctor said her breathing is stronger.”
She sounded relieved, but exhaustion shadowed her face. Her blue diner uniform was still torn at the shoulder. A streak of dried blood crossed her sleeve where broken glass had cut her.
I held up the pendant.
“Claire knew your name.”
Emma stared at it.
“That’s impossible.”
“She hid this inside.”
I showed her the paper.
Her lips parted, but no words came.
“Victor said your mother knew Claire.”
“My mother was Rebecca Carter. She died in a car accident twelve years ago.”
“Did you see her body?”
The question sounded cruel, but I needed the truth.
Emma looked away.
“No. My aunt identified her. I was sixteen. They said the accident was too severe.”
“What was your mother’s occupation?”
“She worked nights at St. Anne’s Hospital. Medical records.”
Claire had delivered our daughters at St. Anne’s.
A cold pressure formed behind my ribs.
“Did she ever mention Claire?”
“No.”
“Victor?”
“Never.”
Emma stood and began pacing beside Sophie’s crib.
“My mother hated secrets. She would have told me.”
“Unless telling you would have placed you in danger.”
She stopped.
“Why would your wife hide my name?”
“I don’t know.”
The door opened, and Sheriff Elena Brooks entered with two deputies.
She was in her early forties, sharp-eyed and impossible to intimidate. Claire had trusted her. I had kept my distance because Victor claimed the sheriff resented wealthy ranch owners.
Another lie, perhaps.
“Victor Hale is in custody,” Elena said. “He asked for an attorney and stopped talking.”
“Was the shooter found?”
“Abandoned snowmobile near the north bridge. No rider.”
She looked at Emma.
“Ms. Carter, I owe you an apology. My deputies were told you had kidnapped the children. We now know that report was false.”
“Who called?”
Elena’s gaze shifted to me.
“The call came from Daniel’s private security office.”
“Victor,” I said.
“Possibly. The system uses employee codes. The code belonged to Marianne Cole.”
The missing nurse.
Elena placed a folder on the table.
“We searched Victor’s office at the ranch. We found burner phones, forged payroll documents, and copies of the triplets’ medical records.”
My anger returned with frightening speed.
“Why would he need their records?”
“To identify weaknesses,” Emma whispered.
Elena nodded grimly. “Sophie’s respiratory condition. Lily’s formula allergy. Grace’s sleep schedule.”
I gripped the bedrail.
“He planned this.”
“He planned something,” Elena corrected. “We do not yet know whether the goal was kidnapping, extortion, or murder.”
Emma sat beside Sophie and covered her mouth.
Elena opened the folder.
“There’s more. We found a photograph taken six years ago.”
She slid it across the table.
Claire stood outside St. Anne’s Hospital, visibly pregnant.
Beside her was a woman with dark hair and Emma’s eyes.
Rebecca Carter.
Emma touched the photograph.
“My mother.”
On Claire’s other side stood Victor Hale.
Behind them was a fourth person whose face had been scratched away with a blade.
Written on the back were four words:
THE CHILDREN MUST NEVER KNOW.
Emma’s hands shook.
“What children?”
Elena turned the photograph over again.
“Claire had no children six years ago. You were twenty-two. We’re trying to determine what this refers to.”
I studied the damaged face.
Something about the person’s posture felt familiar.
Emma noticed a white corner beneath the photograph.
“There’s another picture.”
Two images had stuck together.
Elena separated them carefully.
The second photograph showed Claire holding the ruby pendant. Rebecca stood beside her, holding a newborn baby wrapped in a yellow blanket.
The date stamped at the bottom was six years earlier.
Emma whispered, “Whose baby is that?”
I did not answer.
The baby had a small crescent-shaped birthmark above her left eyebrow.
The same birthmark Emma had.
The room tilted beneath me.
“That can’t be Emma,” I said. “She would have been twenty-two.”
Elena examined the photograph closely.
“It could be an old picture that was reprinted six years ago.”
Emma touched the birthmark above her eyebrow.
“My baby pictures were destroyed in a house fire.”
The hospital intercom crackled.
A nurse announced a security lockdown.
Elena’s radio came alive.
“Sheriff, unidentified male spotted near pediatric stairwell. Possible weapon.”
The lights went out.
Emergency lamps flooded the corridor with red light.
Emma immediately lifted Sophie from the crib.
I took Lily while Elena grabbed Grace’s bassinet.
Footsteps pounded outside.
The door handle turned.
Elena raised her weapon.
“Sheriff’s department. Identify yourself.”
No response.
The handle moved again.
Then a woman’s voice whispered through the door.
“Emma?”
Emma froze.
The voice came again.
“My baby, please open the door.”
Emma’s knees nearly gave way.
May you like
She stared at me.
“That’s my mother.”
