Chapter 5

Suspicion took root in Sheila. She closed the browser page, slid her staff ID card into the reader, and logged into Rayhill Hospital's internal records system.

She entered Jessica Swanson's ID number and the date range from six years ago.

The screen jumped, pulling up Jessica's inpatient electronic file from that year.

Sheila's eyes ran down the surgical record. Her pupils contracted.

The next day at noon, she drove out to an old residential compound on the outskirts of Lakeport.

She knocked on the door of Director Dickerson, the surgeon who had performed the operation back then, now retired.

Director Dickerson studied the screenshot of the file Sheila held out, and said nothing for two full minutes.

"Dr. Pruitt, you trained in medicine too. You've spotted the flaw."

He took off his reading glasses and sighed. "Jessica Swanson didn't miscarry at all. She delivered a healthy baby boy, five pounds two ounces, no complications."

"And the child?" Sheila's breathing turned quick.

"Less than ten minutes after the birth, the child's father walked into the delivery room with a Waiver of Treatment and Voluntary Discharge Consent form. He forced the signature through. Wouldn't even let the baby go into an incubator."

Director Dickerson looked down at the table.

Three in the afternoon. Sheila got back to Rayhill Hospital.

She went straight to the paper archives for pediatrics and the neonatal intensive care unit.

She shifted aside a few dust-covered file boxes and dug for the admission records from the same day, same month, same year, six years back.

The physician who had been on duty that night happened to walk into the archive room to pull a file. He saw the sheet in Sheila's hand and leaned in.

"Checking old records, Dr. Pruitt? That unnamed baby boy, I remember him too well."

He pointed at the sheet. "That night, a man came rushing into the ER holding the baby. Well-dressed, real respectable-looking, but he kept the brim of his hat pulled down the whole time. Didn't lift his head once, not even to sign. All I caught was a glimpse of the name he wrote…"

Sheila lowered her head, her eyes fixed on the black handwriting in the family signature box.