Chapter 9: The Child Who Was Missing
I stared at the screen until the words blurred.
Twin infant identification.
My mother had never mentioned twins. Thomas had never mentioned twins. And I'd spent thirteen years raising Maya without ever suspecting that another child might have been born alongside her.
“Tell me what this means,” I said.
Dr. Shaw closed the laptop.
“I need to check the original delivery records before I can tell you anything.””
“No.”” I stepped closer.
“You don't get to hide behind paperwork again. Someone used my identity to request records about my daughter's birth. My mother left a recording saying Maya wasn't the only child born that night. I want the truth now.””
The doctor looked toward Thomas.
He was standing by the window, his hands clenched at his sides.
“Thomas?””
He turned slowly.
“I knew there had been a second baby.””
Maya's eyes widened.
“You knew I had a brother or sister?””
“I knew there was another infant listed in the hospital records.””
“Where is that child?””
He looked down.
“I don't know.””
Maya backed away from him.
“You keep saying that.””
“I was told the second baby had died.””
“By who?””
Thomas hesitated.
“Linda.””
I felt a surge of anger so fierce that I could barely speak.
“My sister told you your child had died, and you believed her?””
Thomas's face crumpled.
“I was in a hospital bed myself that night. I'd been injured in a car accident. Linda told me Maya had been born safely, but there had been complications with the other baby.””
“An accident?”” I repeated.
He nodded.
“Someone had run my car off the road two days before your delivery. I was recovering from surgery when Linda came to see me.””
I stared at him.
“Why didn't you come to the hospital where I was giving birth?””
“Because I was unconscious when Maya was born. When I woke up, Linda told me you'd asked her to keep me away.””
I felt as though I were listening to a story about strangers.
Every major event in my life had been filtered through my sister.
Thomas's disappearance.
My mother's death.
The first days of Maya's life.
Even my daughter's birth certificate.
Linda had been there, holding my hand, offering reassurance, telling me what everyone else supposedly thought and wanted.
And I had believed her.
Dr. Shaw returned from her study carrying a thick binder.
“The original delivery file was archived before our electronic records system was introduced,” she said.
“If the file hasn't been destroyed, it should still be in storage.””
“Can you access it?””
“I can request it.””
“How long?””
“Normally, several days.””
I shook my head.
“We don't have several days. The hearing is tomorrow.””
She looked troubled.
“Then we'll have to go to the hospital.””
Thomas picked up the red notebook.
“We shouldn't all go together. Bennett may be watching.””
“I don't care who is watching,” I said.
“I'm done hiding.””
Maya slipped her hand into mine.
“I'm coming with you.””
I looked at her.
“Sweetheart—”
“Mom, everyone keeps making decisions about my life without telling me anything. I'm not staying behind while you find out whether I have a brother or sister.””
There was no arguing with her.
We drove to the hospital in two cars. Thomas took Maya, while Dr. Shaw and I followed.
At the records department, Dr. Shaw showed her credentials and requested access to the archived file. The clerk checked the system, frowned, and disappeared into a back office.
Five minutes passed.
Then ten.
Finally, a supervisor emerged carrying a gray box.
“Dr. Shaw, this file has a restricted-access flag.””
“Why?””
“The records were sealed following a legal request thirteen years ago.””
“Whose request?””
The supervisor turned the box around.
A yellow sticker had been placed on the lid.
*RESTRICTED BY COURT ORDER — NO RELEASE WITHOUT AUTHORIZATION FROM LINDA COLLINS.*
I felt my knees weaken.
“Linda has authority over my medical records?””
“Not ordinarily,” the supervisor replied.
“But this particular file was restricted under a family-court proceeding.””
“What proceeding?””
He checked the paperwork.
“An emergency custody petition filed shortly after the birth.””
I looked at Dr. Shaw.
She appeared just as stunned as I felt.
“Who filed it?””
The supervisor turned the page.
“Linda Collins, acting as an authorized family representative.””
I gripped the counter.
“She wasn't my legal guardian. She had no authority to file anything on my behalf.””
“I'm sorry, ma'am. The file contains a court order, and we have to follow it.””
Dr. Shaw leaned forward.
“I was the attending physician. I need to review this record because of a documented discrepancy in the original delivery report.””
The supervisor hesitated.
Then he glanced at the box.
“I can allow you to inspect the index, but the sealed documents will require judicial authorization.””
He opened the binder.
The first page showed my admission time.
The second contained my consent forms.
The third listed the delivery details.
I leaned closer.
Two infants.
Two identification numbers.
Two sets of footprints.
My fingers began to tremble.
The first infant was Maya Collins, born at 2:14 a.m.
The second was listed as *Baby B*, born at 2:19 a.m.
The space beside the second infant's name had been left blank.
A red stamp covered the bottom of the page.
*TRANSFERRED TO AUTHORIZED CUSTODIAN.*
I stared at the words.
“Who was the authorized custodian?””
The supervisor flipped to the next page.
The name had been blacked out.
But the signature beneath it was visible.
Linda Collins.
Maya had been standing behind us, reading over my shoulder.
She stepped forward.
“That's my aunt's signature.””
The supervisor closed the binder.
“I'm afraid that's all I can show you without authorization.””
I reached for the page.
“Someone took a newborn baby from this hospital and concealed the identity. You can't expect me to walk away.””
“I understand your frustration.””
“No, you don't!””
My voice echoed through the records office.
Dr. Shaw touched my arm.
“Renee, we need to be careful. If the document was sealed by a court, we need to challenge the order properly.””
I swallowed my anger.
Then I noticed a small handwritten note in the margin of the index.
It was almost invisible beneath the red stamp.
*Infant B transferred to private residence pending final placement.*
Below it was an address.
I recognized the street name.
It was the street where Linda had lived when Maya was born.
I took a photograph before the supervisor closed the binder.
Then I turned toward Maya.
“Your aunt didn't just know about the second baby,” I whispered.
“She took that baby home.””
Maya's eyes filled with tears.
“Why would she do that?””
I had no answer.
But Thomas, standing near the doorway, suddenly looked as though he'd been struck.
“Renee,” he said quietly, “there's something else I need to tell you.””
I turned toward him.
“What?””
He glanced at Maya, then back at me.
“When Linda told me the second baby had died, she also told me that you had signed a document giving up your parental rights.””
My stomach twisted.
“I never signed anything.””
“I know that now.””
“How could you believe I would give up my child?””
“I was recovering from surgery. I couldn't see you. Linda showed me a document with your signature.””
I shook my head.
“That's impossible.””
Thomas reached into his coat and pulled out a folded photocopy.
“I kept it because something about it never felt right.””
I unfolded the paper.
It was a declaration relinquishing parental rights to Baby B.
My name appeared at the bottom.
My signature was nearly perfect.
Nearly.
But the final letter in my surname had a small loop that I never made.
I had noticed the same mistake years ago on a Christmas card Linda had signed for me when I was too exhausted to write.
My sister had forged my signature.
Again.
A hospital orderly appeared at the office door.
“Mrs. Collins?””
I looked up.
“Yes?””
“A woman is waiting for you in the lobby. She says she's your sister.””
I went cold.
“Did she give you her name?””
He nodded.
“Linda Collins.””
Maya grabbed my hand.
“Don't go, Mom.””
But I was already moving.
Linda stood near the hospital entrance, wearing a beige coat and holding a small photograph.
When she saw me, she began to cry.
“Renee, I know you hate me.””
I stopped several feet away.
“Where is the second baby?””
She pressed the photograph against her chest.
“You need to understand why I did it.””
“Where is my child?””
Linda looked at Maya.
Then she whispered, “The baby never left my house.””
My heart stopped.
She held out the photograph.
It showed a newborn wrapped in a yellow blanket, sleeping in a bassinet.
On the back, someone had written a name.
Not Maya's.
Not Thomas's.
A name I recognized from the red notebook.
*Daniel Bennett.*
Linda's voice broke.
“Renee, the second baby wasn't given away.””
May you like
She looked straight into my eyes.
“I raised your son as my own.””
