Chapter 3 - THE LIST OF MOTHERS
Daniel insisted on seeing the original list.
Detective Bell refused to remove it from evidence but allowed him to examine a photographed copy.
Twenty-three names appeared on the yellowed page.
Most belonged to women.
Several had addresses in Georgia, South Carolina, and Florida. Dates stretched from 1992 to the present.
My name appeared at the bottom, beneath Megan’s.
Problem.
I tried to understand why Linda would include me on a document connected to missing infants and false identities.
“I don’t have children,” I said.
Daniel turned toward me.
“We’ve been trying for almost a year.”
The detective’s expression sharpened.
“Has Linda ever been involved in your medical appointments?”
The question seemed ridiculous at first.
Then I remembered.
Six months earlier, Linda had recommended a fertility specialist named Dr. Peter Hale. She told me he had helped several women from her church.
I had attended two consultations.
During the second, Dr. Hale ordered blood tests and suggested an invasive procedure. I felt uncomfortable and never returned.
Daniel looked horrified.
“She gave us his number.”
Detective Bell wrote the name down.
“Did Linda ask questions about your results?”
“Constantly,” I said. “She wanted to know whether I could carry a child. She said Daniel deserved a family.”
Megan lowered her head.
“She asked me the same things.”
Aaron turned toward her.
“You never told me that.”
“She said it was normal. She wanted grandchildren.”
Detective Bell asked Megan whether Linda had recommended the same doctor.
Megan nodded.
Dr. Hale had performed a fertility evaluation three months before the wedding, despite Megan and Aaron telling Linda they were not planning to have children immediately.
The detective stepped into the hallway and made several calls.
When he returned, his face was grim.
“Dr. Peter Hale lost his medical license in Georgia seventeen years ago. He was accused of falsifying adoption records and performing unauthorized fertility procedures.”
“Then how is he practicing?” Daniel demanded.
“Under a different license number belonging to a physician who died in 2012.”
Megan covered her face.
The nightmare was expanding faster than any of us could process.
Linda was not simply a controlling mother who had crossed a line in a hospital room.
She had built her entire family on stolen identities.
And she might still be involved in the same crimes.
At two in the morning, my surgeon ordered everyone except Daniel to leave so I could rest.
Megan kissed my forehead and apologized again.
“This is not your fault,” I told her. “Your wedding was destroyed because of Linda’s choices, not because I got sick.”
She began crying harder.
“I spent my whole life trying to become the daughter she wanted. Maybe I was never her daughter at all.”
After she left, Daniel sat silently beside me.
I could tell he was thinking about every childhood memory.
Every birthday.
Every family photograph.
Every story Linda had repeated about his birth.
“Do you want to meet Rebecca?” I asked.
He stared at the floor.
“I don’t know.”
“That’s okay.”
“What if she’s lying?”
“She might be.”
“What if she isn’t?”
I squeezed his hand.
“Then you take it one step at a time.”
Around four in the morning, I woke to the sound of the door opening.
A nurse entered carrying medication.
She checked my chart, adjusted the IV, and told Daniel he should sleep.
Something about her voice felt wrong.
Her badge was turned backward.
Before she touched the IV line, I noticed she was not wearing gloves.
“Daniel,” I whispered.
He lifted his head.
The woman froze.
“What medication is that?” he asked.
“Pain relief.”
“What’s the name?”
She did not answer.
Daniel stood.
The woman stepped backward, but he moved between her and the door.
I pressed the call button.
The real night nurse appeared moments later.
She took one look at the stranger and shouted for security.
The woman dropped the syringe.
It struck the floor and rolled beneath the bed.
Security officers detained her in the hallway.
Detective Bell returned less than thirty minutes later.
The woman’s name was Carla Ruiz.
She had worked as an assistant at Dr. Hale’s clinic.
The syringe contained a powerful sedative in a dose dangerous for someone recovering from surgery.
Carla refused to say why she had entered my room.
But surveillance footage showed her arriving in Linda’s car.
Daniel stared through the window as officers led Carla away.
“My mother sent her,” he said.
Detective Bell did not disagree.
Then an officer entered carrying Carla’s phone.
A message had been sent to Linda less than ten minutes before Carla entered my room.
It read:
I’ll make sure the problem doesn’t wake up.
My body went cold.
Daniel turned toward Detective Bell.
“Find my mother.”
The detective’s jaw tightened.
“We’re trying.”
“She attacked my wife, sent someone into her hospital room, stole children, and built fake identities.”
“We understand.”
“No,” Daniel said. “You don’t.”
His voice remained controlled, but something fierce had entered it.
“She has always known exactly how far she could go because everyone around her was too afraid to stop her.”
He looked at me, then back at the detective.
“That ends tonight.”
The detective’s phone rang.
He listened for several seconds.
Then he looked toward Daniel.
Officers had gone to Linda’s house.
The doors were open.
Her clothing, luggage, and jewelry were gone.
In the garage, they found a hidden room behind a shelving unit.
Inside were dozens of baby photographs, hospital bracelets, forged certificates, and videotapes labeled with women’s names.
May you like
One tape carried today’s date.
The name written on it was mine.
