Chapter 7: The Missing File
“Someone stole Ava’s birth record?””
The words sounded impossible even after I said them aloud.
Ethan was already moving toward the garage.
I grabbed his arm.
“You’re not leaving without me.””
“Lauren, this could be dangerous.””
I almost laughed.
“Yesterday you were hiding your mistress in my bedroom. Today someone is stealing our daughter’s medical records. You don’t get to protect me by keeping me ignorant anymore.””
His face tightened.
“You’re right.””
The admission surprised me.
I called Rachel.
“Can Ava stay with you a little longer?””
“Of course. What happened?””
“I’ll explain later.””
“Lauren.””
“I’m okay.””
Rachel went silent.
Then she said, “That wasn’t what I asked.””
I looked at Ethan.
“No. I’m not okay.””
Thirty minutes later, we pulled into the hospital parking garage.
Neither of us spoke.
The hospital looked smaller than I remembered.
Seven years earlier, those doors had seemed enormous when Ethan pushed my wheelchair through them with newborn Ava sleeping against my chest.
Now every window felt like it was hiding something.
A security officer named Daniel Pierce met us downstairs.
He was gray-haired, tired-looking, and clearly unhappy we were there.
“Mr. and Mrs. Bennett?””
I flinched at the word Mrs.
Ethan noticed.
I didn’t care.
Pierce led us into a small office.
“There was unauthorized access to archived records at approximately 2:14 this morning,” he explained.
“How?”” I asked.
“Someone used an employee credential.””
“Whose?””
Pierce hesitated.
“An inactive credential.””
Ethan leaned forward.
“Whose credential?””
Pierce looked at me.
“Melissa Grant.””
My chair scraped backward.
“No.””
Pierce turned his computer monitor slightly, but there was no dramatic security footage waiting for us.
Only an access log.
A name.
A time.
A door number.
Melissa Grant.
2:14 a.m.
Archive Room C.
I stared at it.
“She hasn’t worked here in years.””
“That’s correct,” Pierce said.
“Then her badge shouldn’t work.””
“It shouldn’t.””
Ethan looked at him sharply.
“But it did.””
Pierce nodded.
“Someone reactivated the credential.””
“Who can do that?”” I asked.
“Administration. Security. Certain IT personnel.””
My mind raced.
“Was anything else taken?””
“We’re still reviewing inventory.””
“You said Ava’s file was missing.””
Pierce folded his hands.
“The physical archive folder associated with her delivery was removed.””
“What was inside?””
“That’s difficult to establish without the folder.””
Ethan cursed under his breath.
I turned on him.
“You’ve seen it before, haven’t you?””
His silence gave him away.
Pierce looked between us.
“Mr. Bennett?””
Ethan rubbed the back of his neck.
“Three years ago.””
My anger returned instantly.
“You came here?””
“Yes.””
“With Claire?””
“No.””
“Then who?””
His eyes met mine.
“Melissa.””
The room seemed to shrink.
“You met Melissa here?””
“She contacted me. She said she wanted to show me something.””
“What?””
“A correction form.””
Pierce frowned.
“What kind?””
Ethan swallowed.
“A newborn identification correction.””
My skin prickled.
I remembered Ava’s tiny hospital bracelet.
I remembered kissing her forehead.
I remembered asking a nurse why they had taken her from my room for almost an hour.
The nurse had told me it was routine testing.
I had believed her.
“What did the correction say?”” I whispered.
Ethan stared at the table.
“That Ava’s identification bracelet had been replaced.””
My heartbeat stumbled.
“Why?””
“It said the original was damaged.””
“Was it?””
“I don’t know.””
I stood.
“You had seven years to tell me this.””
“Lauren—”
“Seven years.””
Pierce interrupted gently.
“There may be something else.””
He opened a drawer and removed a clear evidence sleeve.
Inside was a small brass key.
“This was found beneath the shelving where your daughter’s file had been stored.””
I stared at it.
A faded plastic tag hung from the ring.
*214.*
Ethan went completely still.
I noticed.
“What?””
“Nothing.””
I stepped closer.
“You know that number.””
“No.””
“You just reacted.””
Pierce looked at Ethan.
“Mr. Bennett?””
Ethan’s jaw tightened.
Finally, he whispered, “Melissa used to have a storage unit.””
My pulse quickened.
“What number?””
He looked at the key again.
“214.””
Pierce leaned back.
“That could be coincidence.””
Maybe.
But I was finished believing in coincidences.
I asked Pierce whether we could take the key.
“No. It’s evidence.””
“Then give me the storage facility.””
He shook his head.
“I don’t have that information.””
Ethan did.
I could see it.
I waited until we reached the parking garage before confronting him.
“Where is it?””
“Lauren.””
“Where?””
He leaned against the car.
“There was a place near Love Field.””
I pulled out my phone.
“You’re taking me there.””
“If the unit still exists.””
“It exists.””
“How do you know?””
I stared at him.
“Because someone wanted that key found.””
An hour later, we stood inside the storage facility office.
The manager searched Melissa’s name.
Then his eyebrows rose.
“Unit 214 is still active.””
My mouth went dry.
“Who pays for it?””
He studied the account.
“Automatic payment.””
“Whose card?””
“I can’t give you that.””
Ethan stepped beside me.
“Can you tell us whether Melissa has been here recently?””
The manager checked another screen.
Then he looked up.
“Someone accessed the unit this morning.””
“What time?””
“Three seventeen.””
Less than an hour after the hospital break-in.
I gripped the counter.
“Can we see who?””
The manager hesitated.
Then his eyes moved toward the security monitor behind him.
His face changed.
“Actually…”
“What?””
He pointed.
A woman had just entered the hallway leading toward the storage units.
Long blonde hair.
Dark coat.
Red heels.
May you like
Claire.
And she was walking straight toward Unit 214.
