Chapter 3 - The Shadow in the Clinic
By 3:00 AM, Pinecrest Heights was crawling with police cruisers and state detectives.
Julian Vance was dragged away in police custody, refusing to speak further without a lawyer. Victoria Warren had disappeared from her penthouse suite downtown forty minutes after the kidnapping attempt, her phone switched off and her bank accounts showing massive wire transfers to offshore entities.
I sat in the nursery holding baby Dexter tight against my chest, while Charlee sat beside me on the sofa, her head resting against my arm.
Detective Vance—a senior investigator from the Special Victims Unit—stood near the balcony doors, taking notes.
"Mr. Warren," Detective Vance said, shutting his notebook. "We've issued an emergency statewide alert for Victoria Warren. But there's a crucial piece of this puzzle missing. How did Victoria know baby Dexter was at your house before you even confirmed his paternity?"
I looked down at the baby in my arms. "Dr. Pamela Ortiz."
"Your former fiancée?"
"Pamela told me earlier today that she gave my genetic samples to Jocelyn Cooper a year ago," I explained, my mind putting the deadly pieces together. "Jocelyn Cooper was the widow of my late business rival, Richard Cooper. When Richard died two years ago, his estate clause stated that if Jocelyn had a male child within twenty-four months, Richard's entire eighty-million-dollar corporate share would transfer to the child."
Detective Vance’s eyes widened. "And if she didn't?"
"The eighty million dollars would revert to Richard's chief corporate partner..." I whispered, my blood turning to ice. "...Victoria Warren."
It all made terrifying sense now.
Victoria hadn't just wanted to stop my father’s secret family from coming forward. She had discovered that Jocelyn Cooper was pregnant with my biological son through Pamela's clinic. Victoria knew that if baby Dexter survived, he would inherit both the Cooper corporate shares and my father’s trust.
Victoria had bribed someone to steal the newborn from Jocelyn Cooper, wrap him in a trash bag, and dump him near my estate dumpster like trash—hoping the freezing rain would end his life before anyone found him!
She had never counted on an eight-year-old homeless girl named Charlee digging through those exact dumpsters looking for food.
"Mr. Warren!" Mrs. Mabel rushed into the nursery, holding my ringing cell phone. "It's the forensic lab! The DNA expedited results are ready!"
I took the phone with a shaking hand, setting it to speakerphone.
"Mr. Warren?" the lead forensic director's voice came through crisp and clear. "We have completed the 24-marker DNA comparison analysis."
"Tell me," I breathed.
"Sample A—the infant—shares a 99.99% direct paternal match with your genetic profile. He is unequivocally your biological son."
I closed my eyes, a tear escaping down my cheek as I kissed Dexter’s soft forehead.
"And Sample B?" I asked, my voice cracking. "The girl, Charlee?"
The director paused for two seconds. "Sample B shares a 25% identical DNA marker match with you, consistent with a full paternal half-niece. Her biological mother, Clara Knox, was confirmed to be your full half-sister through your late father's genetic lineage."
Charlee looked up at me with big, bright eyes. "What does that mean, Spencer?"
I pulled Charlee into a tight, warm hug, holding both my niece and my son in my arms.
"It means," I whispered, crying tears of relief, "you are my niece, Charlee. You're family. And no one is ever going to hurt you or Dexter again."
Suddenly, my phone buzzed with a text message from an unknown encrypted number.
May you like
I opened the screen. It was a photo of an old medical chart from St. Jude’s Hospital, accompanied by a single chilling message:
If you want to find Jocelyn Cooper alive before Victoria finishes the job, come to the abandoned clinic on Blackwood Road alone in one hour. Don't bring the police, or the baby's mother dies.
