Chapter 3 - THE MESSAGE HIDDEN UNDER THE BLUE E
For twelve years, Victor Malenkov had carried a message without knowing it.
And for twelve years, nobody had thought to examine the stitching beneath his dead wife's initial.
At the police station, a forensic technician carefully documented the handkerchief.
Then, with Victor's permission, she examined the unusual seam.
The thread had been folded over a narrow strip of waterproof material.
Inside was a tiny piece of paper.
No larger than a postage stamp.
Victor leaned closer.
His hands trembled.
The technician unfolded it carefully.
Four words appeared.
WARD KNOWS THE CHILDREN.
My heart stopped.
“Ward?”
Victor looked toward me.
“Do you know someone named Ward?”
I swallowed.
“Professor Helen Ward.”
Detective Morgan turned.
“Your nursing instructor?”
I nodded.
“She worked at St. Augustine's years ago.”
Victor's expression changed.
“What was her position?”
“I think she was a pediatric nursing supervisor.”
The room went silent.
Then the technician examined the reverse side of the paper.
A number had been written beneath a small cross.
17-B.
Detective Morgan recorded it.
Victor looked toward me.
“What does that mean?”
“I don't know.”
But something about the number bothered me.
During nursing school, I'd studied old hospital documentation systems.
Room numbers.
Patient identifiers.
Archive codes.
And St. Augustine's Rehabilitation Center had once operated a pediatric residential wing.
I swallowed.
“Seventeen-B might be a room.”
Detective Morgan nodded.
“We'll verify that.”
The following morning, Professor Ward asked me to meet her after class.
I entered her office with my bandaged hand tucked beneath my notebook.
She looked concerned.
“Grace, I heard you were injured at work.”
“I'm fine.”
She smiled.
“Good.”
Then her expression changed.
“I also heard you spent the evening with Victor Malenkov.”
My stomach tightened.
“How?”
She hesitated.
“People talk.”
I studied her.
“Professor, did you know Elena Malenkov?”
The color drained from her face.
For several seconds, she didn't speak.
Then she slowly closed her office door.
“Grace, where did you hear that name?”
I took a breath.
“From her husband.”
Professor Ward sat down.
Her hands began trembling.
“Victor is asking questions again?”
I stared.
“Again?”
She covered her mouth.
Then whispered, “I told Elena not to go to that clinic.”
My heart hammered.
“Why?”
Professor Ward looked toward the window.
“Because she had discovered children were being transferred under false identities.”
I stopped breathing.
“What children?”
She shook her head.
“I can't discuss confidential patient information without proper authorization.”
I nodded.
“Then tell the police.”
Her eyes filled.
“I tried twelve years ago.”
My chest tightened.
“What happened?”
She looked directly at me.
“Someone inside the investigation warned the people responsible.”
A cold silence followed.
Then she whispered something that made my blood run cold.
May you like
“Elena wasn't going to St. Augustine's to investigate strangers.”
“She was looking for her own daughter.”
