The word Dad stayed with me longer than the word son.
Grace had said it without ceremony, almost by accident, because there had been no other word available.
I looked at her.
She seemed embarrassed by it now.
“You called me Dad.”
A faint flush touched her face.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
She looked down.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have yet.”
“You can call me Daniel if you want.”
“That feels strange too.”
“Everything feels strange.”
That earned the smallest smile.
Rachel watched us from the bed, tears running silently down her cheeks.
Then I looked again at the report.
“Who is the match?”
Grace shook her head.
“The database only shows a coded identifier until law enforcement requests access.”
“Ortiz can request it.”
“She already did.”
“How long?”
“She said soon.”
I hated that word now.
Soon.
Later.
When Rachel wakes.
When records arrive.
My entire life seemed trapped behind delays.
Rachel whispered, “Danny.”
I turned.
She had gone pale.
“You know something.”
“No.”
“You reacted before Grace finished.”
Rachel shook her head.
“I don’t know who he is.”
“But?”
She looked toward the door.
“There was something my mother told me once.”
“What?”
“Years after the delivery. Long before the cancer.”
I sat.
“She said your father had another family.”
I frowned.
“My father was married to my mother for forty-three years.”
“I know.”
“Another family where?”
“She didn’t know.”
“Why would your mother know something like that?”
“She overheard him and Vale arguing.”
My chest tightened.
“When?”
“About a year before the twins were born.”
“What did they say?”
“She only caught pieces. Something about a boy and payments.”
“Why did she tell you?”
Rachel’s eyes lowered.
“She didn’t mean to.”
I waited.
“She was drinking. It was after my mother died.”
“So for twenty years you knew my father might have another child.”
“No. I thought she meant an affair.”
“And you never told me.”
“I didn’t think it mattered.”
I almost snapped at her.
Then stopped.
The scale of concealed information had become so large that rage no longer helped distinguish intent from damage.
The door opened.
Ortiz entered.
“Elaine is asking to speak with you.”
“Me?”
“You and Rachel.”
Rachel shook her head.
“I don’t want her in here.”
“She isn’t coming in here.”
Ortiz looked at me.
“She says she’ll only talk if you’re present.”
“About what?”
“Your father.”
I glanced at Rachel.
Then Grace.
“I’ll go.”
Grace said, “I’m coming.”
Ortiz shook her head.
“No.”
“She’s involved.”
“She’s also a witness.”
Grace’s jaw tightened.
“I’m not a child.”
“No one said you were.”
“I spent twenty-six years being treated like someone else should decide what I’m allowed to know.”
Ortiz paused.
“That sounds familiar around here.”
Grace folded her arms.
“I’m coming.”
Ortiz looked at me.
I did not answer for her.
Finally Ortiz said, “You can observe through the interview-room window.”
Grace nodded.
It was enough.
Elaine sat behind a metal table in a small security office one floor below.
Without her usual careful clothes and controlled posture, she looked older. Her hair had fallen loose. Red marks circled one wrist where a plastic restraint had been removed.
The moment I entered, she stood.
“How is Rachel?”
“Alive.”
Elaine closed her eyes.
“I wasn’t trying to hurt her.”
“That’s difficult to believe when you’re found with a syringe in her IV.”
“It was saline.”
Ortiz sat across from her.
“Then why not ask a nurse to administer it?”
“Because I needed the line.”
“For what?”
Elaine looked at me.
“To remove something.”
My stomach turned.
“From her bloodstream?”
“No.”
“Then explain.”
She shook her head.
“You won’t believe me.”
“Try.”
Elaine looked toward the one-way glass.
She knew Grace was there.
“Vale used a tracer.”
Ortiz leaned forward.
“What kind of tracer?”
“I don’t know the technical name.”
“Then how do you know it exists?”
“Because he used one on Leah.”
My jaw tightened.
“When?”
“When she was a baby.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It wasn’t medical.”
Ortiz’s expression sharpened.
“What was it?”
Elaine rubbed her hands together.
“A marker. Something in blood samples so he could identify children later.”
I stared at her.
“You’re talking about newborn trafficking.”
Elaine looked at me.
“Yes.”
The word sat heavily in the room.
“How long?”
“Before Rachel.”
“How many babies?”
“I don’t know.”
“You expect us to believe you were involved and never counted?”
“I wasn’t involved at first.”
“At first.”
Elaine’s mouth tightened.
“I worked reception at Vale’s clinic.”
Rachel had never told me that.
“When?”
“From nineteen to twenty-three.”
“The year the twins were born.”
“I had already quit.”
“Why?”
“I found out what he was doing.”
Ortiz spoke.
“Describe it.”
Elaine stared at the table.
“Vale targeted women who were poor, isolated, unmarried, undocumented, addicted, or simply frightened. He convinced some they couldn’t raise a child. Others were told babies were stillborn.”
My hands curled.
“And the children?”
“Private adoptions.”
“For money.”
“Yes.”
“My father?”
Elaine’s face changed.
“He found women.”
Rachel had been right.
“How?”
“Through his towing business.”
“My father owned a repair garage.”
“He also repossessed cars. He met people in trouble.”
I remembered that side of the business.
Late-night calls.
Cash envelopes.
My father telling me not to ask questions about certain vehicles.
“You’re saying he recruited pregnant women for Vale.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Debt at first.”
“What debt?”
“Gambling.”
I almost laughed.
My father had lectured me about saving money until the day he died.
Elaine saw the disbelief.
“He hid it.”
“Apparently everyone did.”
“He lost more than the farm was worth.”
“And Vale paid it?”
“He refinanced the debt through people who worked with him.”
“What people?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’ve had twenty-six years to know.”
“I spent those years hiding from them.”
I leaned across the table.
“With my daughter.”
Elaine flinched.
“I saved her.”
“You stole her.”
“No.”
“You let Rachel think both babies were dead.”
“I had no choice.”
“There is always a choice.”
“You weren’t there.”
“Neither were you supposed to be.”
Elaine stood.
Ortiz immediately told her to sit.
She did.
Her eyes burned.
“Vale had two families lined up. The Bennetts for the first girl. Another couple for the second.”
“Leah.”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“The second couple backed out when they heard one twin had respiratory problems.”
“But that was Grace.”
“Vale didn’t care. He had already mixed the records.”
I stared.
“He switched them?”
“Potentially. He treated them as inventory.”
The word made my stomach turn.
Elaine continued.
“Rachel woke briefly. She heard one baby crying. Vale realized she might remember.”
“So?”
“He increased her sedation.”
“And you?”
“I confronted him.”
“Why?”
“Because I knew those were my sister’s daughters.”
“You knew before labor?”
“Yes.”
“You helped her hide the pregnancy.”
“Yes.”
“From me.”
“Yes.”
I forced myself to stay seated.
“What happened next?”
“Vale told me one child was already legally placed.”
“Legally?”
Elaine gave a bitter laugh.
“On paper.”
“And the other?”
“He told me to leave.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No.”
“How did you get Leah?”
“I took her.”
“Walked out of the clinic with a newborn?”
“He was dealing with Rachel hemorrhaging and Grace being transferred.”
“Transferred to the Bennetts?”
“Yes.”
“She wasn’t even discharged.”
“No.”
The horror of it settled deeper.
“What did you do with Leah?”
“Took her to a motel.”
“And then?”
“Called your father.”
My chest tightened.
“My father knew?”
“He came.”
“And?”
“He told me to bring Leah back.”
The room went silent.
“I refused.”
“What did he do?”
“He threatened to call the police and say I kidnapped her.”
“You had.”
Elaine’s eyes hardened.
“I kidnapped her from a man who intended to sell her.”
That stopped me.
“What happened?”
“I told him if he called police, I would tell them everything I knew about Vale.”
“Did he back down?”
“No.”
“What changed?”
“Your mother arrived.”
I stared at her.
“My mother knew too.”
“She knew enough.”
“What did she do?”
“She gave me cash.”
My throat tightened.
“How much?”
“Twenty thousand dollars.”
Twenty-six years ago, that was enough to disappear.
“She told me to take Leah and never contact you or Rachel.”
“Why would she do that?”
“Because she was afraid your father would have Leah placed with someone else.”
“That doesn’t explain why she let Grace go.”
Elaine looked away.
“She thought Grace was already gone.”
“To the Bennetts.”
“Yes.”
“And she accepted that?”
“She said one child was safe.”
I heard Leah’s accusation again.
Which baby to save.
Maybe everyone had been forced into choices someone else created.
“What did you tell Rachel?”
“That both babies died.”
“You watched your sister mourn children who were alive.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because your father was outside the clinic when she woke.”
I became still.
“He threatened Rachel?”
“He didn’t have to. He told me if she knew, you would know. If you knew, you would come after Vale. If that happened, he said people would get hurt.”
“What people?”
“You.”
I laughed quietly.
“So everyone ruined my life to protect me.”
Elaine’s eyes filled.
“I was twenty-three.”
“And for the next twenty-six years?”
She had no answer.
Ortiz stepped in.
“What about the syringe?”
Elaine exhaled.
“Three days ago, Vale contacted me.”
My head snapped up.
“He’s alive?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“He contacted you how?”
“Burner phone.”
“What did he want?”
“Rachel.”
“Why?”
“He knows she found Grace and Leah.”
“After four years?”
“He knew before. But now Rachel was talking.”
“To whom?”
Elaine looked toward the glass.
“Grace.”
I thought of Grace working in the hospital.
“You believe Vale had access to Rachel here.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then what were you removing from the IV?”
Elaine rubbed her forehead.
“Vale told me if I didn’t cooperate, Rachel would die before morning.”
My jaw tightened.
“And you trusted him?”
“No.”
“So?”
“He said her IV line had been contaminated with something that would make her condition look like complications from chemotherapy.”
Ortiz’s posture changed.
“What substance?”
“He wouldn’t say.”
“And you tried to flush it.”
“Yes.”
“Why not tell staff?”
“Because Vale said someone on staff works for him.”
Silence.
I looked toward the one-way glass.
Grace.
Oncology nurse.
Access to Rachel.
Elaine saw my expression.
“Not Grace.”
“How do you know?”
“I don’t.”
“Then don’t tell me what you know.”
Ortiz’s phone buzzed.
She glanced down.
Her eyes narrowed.
“What?”
She looked at me.
“The database released the identity of your male DNA match.”
I stood.
“Who?”
Ortiz turned the screen toward me.
Name: Michael Vale.
Age: thirty-one.
Registered physician.
My eyes locked on the surname.
“Vale.”
Elaine went white.
Ortiz watched her reaction.
“You know him.”
Elaine whispered, “No.”
“You do.”
“No.”
“Who is Michael Vale?”
Elaine shook her head.
“I thought he was dead.”
My heart started pounding.
“Who is he?”
Elaine looked at me.
When she answered, her voice was barely audible.
“Your father’s son.”
Click here to continue reading: PART 7: Daniel Found the Brother His Father Hid, Only to Learn Michael Vale Had Been Working Inside Rachel’s Hospital
Three Years After Our Divorce, Rachel Left Her Wedding Ring on My Pillow and Vanished Before I Woke
Part 6 of 43
