Chapter 13: The Woman Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
Rebecca stared at the photograph on her phone.
The woman standing outside the hospital had silver hair, a thin face, and a small scar beside her right eyebrow.
She was wearing the same pearl necklace Walter remembered seeing in an old photograph of Eleanor.
But the woman wasn't Eleanor.
It was Helen Foster.
Rebecca's adoptive mother.
The woman she had buried three months earlier.
“That's impossible,” Rebecca whispered.
Danny took the phone.
“Where was this picture taken?””
“St. Catherine's Medical Center. Look at the sign behind her.””
Emily leaned closer.
“That's the hospital where Danny was treated.””
Walter looked at Rebecca.
“You said Helen died in a fire.””
Rebecca nodded.
“I identified her body.””
“Are you certain?””
Rebecca's eyes filled.
“I was there. I saw her.””
Danny examined the photograph.
“Then who sent this?””
Rebecca turned the phone around.
The message came from an unknown number.
*YOUR MOTHER DIDN'T DIE IN THAT FIRE.*
Walter looked toward Rhett.
“Can you trace it?””
Rhett shook his head.
“Not from a text message. But we can find out when the photograph was taken.””
Caleb enlarged the image.
He studied the hospital entrance, the cars, and the electronic sign above the doors.
“Wait.””
He zoomed in.
“The sign says October 18.””
Rebecca frowned.
“That's impossible. Helen died in July.””
Caleb checked the photograph's metadata.
His expression changed.
“This picture was taken three days ago.””
Silence filled the room.
Rebecca covered her mouth.
“She's alive.””
Danny looked at her.
“Or someone wants us to believe she is.””
Rebecca grabbed her handbag.
“I'm going back to the funeral home.””
Walter stood.
“We're coming with you.””
The funeral home was on a quiet street outside Columbus.
Rebecca had arranged Helen's funeral herself.
She remembered choosing the flowers.
She remembered standing beside the coffin while relatives offered condolences.
She remembered the funeral director telling her that the fire had made identification difficult.
But she had been shown dental records.
She had been told everything was conclusive.
Now she wanted to see those records again.
The funeral director, a man named Peter Lawson, greeted them nervously.
“Miss Miller, is something wrong?””
Rebecca placed the photograph on his desk.
“Who identified the body?””
Peter glanced at it.
His face went pale.
“I don't understand.””
“Who identified my mother's body?””
Peter adjusted his tie.
“The paperwork was handled through the authorities.””
“That's not what I asked.””
He looked toward the hallway.
“Perhaps we should discuss this privately.””
Rhett stepped closer.
“We're already private.””
Peter swallowed.
“I was given instructions.””
“By whom?”” Danny asked.
Peter shook his head.
“I can't discuss confidential arrangements.””
Rebecca leaned over the desk.
“You buried a woman and told me it was my mother. I deserve to know who you put in that coffin.””
Peter looked at her.
Then he opened a locked drawer.
He removed a folder.
Inside were cremation authorization forms, medical identification records, and a photograph of a burned vehicle.
Rebecca scanned the paperwork.
Then she stopped.
The death certificate listed Helen Foster's height as five feet, seven inches.
Her mother had been five feet, three.
The listed eye color was blue.
Helen had brown eyes.
And the dental identification number belonged to someone else.
Rebecca looked up.
“This isn't my mother.””
Peter lowered his head.
“No.””
Walter gripped the back of a chair.
“Whose body was it?””
Peter hesitated.
“An unidentified woman found near the property.””
Rebecca's voice broke.
“You knew?””
Peter nodded.
“I was told the family had already approved the identification.””
“Which family?””
He looked toward the folder.
“Richard Miller.””
Peter explained that Richard had contacted him shortly after the fire.
He had claimed Helen's death needed to remain private because of a sensitive family matter.
He had supplied the paperwork and paid for the funeral.
Peter had accepted the arrangement because Richard was a prominent local businessman.
“Why didn't you question the identification?”” Rebecca asked.
Peter looked ashamed.
“I should have.””
“Where is my mother?””
“I don't know.””
Rebecca slammed her hand against the desk.
“You took money to bury a stranger!””
Peter flinched.
“I was told Helen had already left the country. I believed she wanted a closed funeral.””
Walter stepped forward.
“Did Richard tell you that?””
Peter nodded.
Walter looked at Rhett.
“We need to find Richard.””
Rhett shook his head.
“Not yet.””
Walter turned.
“What do you mean?””
“Richard wants us angry. He wants us to rush toward him without knowing what he's prepared.””
Danny nodded.
“Rhett's right.””
Rebecca looked at the photograph again.
“My mother is alive. I don't care what Richard wants.””
Emily took her hand.
“We'll find her.””
That evening, they returned to the cabin.
Patricia Lawson was waiting.
She had received a call from an old colleague at St. Catherine's.
When Danny told her about Helen, Patricia became visibly upset.
“I was afraid this would happen.””
Walter frowned.
“You know where she is?””
Patricia shook her head.
“But I know why Richard wanted her gone.””
She opened her handbag and removed an old medical report.
“Helen Foster worked as a records assistant at St. Catherine's before she retired. She had access to archived patient files.””
Danny leaned forward.
“What did she find?””
Patricia placed the report on the table.
A medical transfer authorization dated September 2002.
It contained Danny's name.
But there was another document attached.
A list of patients who had been transferred under false identities.
Three names appeared.
Daniel Hayes.
Emily Hayes.
And a third person.
*Michael Hayes.*
Walter stared.
“Michael?””
Patricia nodded.
“Your second son.””
Danny looked confused.
“Why would Michael be on a hospital transfer list? He was born in 1997.””
Patricia turned another page.
The document showed that Michael had been treated at St. Catherine's as a child.
His medical history included an unusual injury.
A broken wrist.
The injury had been reported as an accident at home.
But the physician's notes told a different story.
Patient states that adoptive father struck him with a metal object.
Walter looked sick.
“Who was his adoptive father?””
Patricia pointed to the signature.
Richard Miller.
Emily stood.
“He adopted Michael too?””
Patricia nodded.
“Richard and his wife adopted him before Rebecca.””
Walter slowly sat down.
His son had been raised by the man who helped make Danny disappear.
And his daughter had been raised in the same house.
Rebecca looked toward the window.
“Then Michael knows everything.””
Danny shook his head.
“Not necessarily.””
Patricia removed another sheet.
It was a recent medical appointment record.
Michael had been treated at a hospital in Pennsylvania two weeks earlier.
The listed emergency contact was Richard Miller.
But the final line contained something more important.
*Patient requested assistance contacting biological family.*
Walter looked at the date.
Two weeks earlier.
Michael had been trying to find them.
Then Rebecca's phone rang.
She looked at the screen.
Unknown number.
She answered cautiously.
“Hello?””
A man's voice whispered:
“Rebecca?””
She froze.
“Who is this?””
“My name is Michael.””
Danny stood.
Rebecca looked at him.
“Michael?””
The man on the phone continued.
“I think we're brother and sister.””
Walter stepped closer.
“Son?””
A pause.
Then Michael whispered:
“Dad?””
Walter closed his eyes.
“Yes.””
Michael's voice cracked.
“I need you to listen carefully.””
“What is it?””
“Richard knows where you are.””
A loud crash sounded through the phone.
May you like
Michael gasped.
Then the call went dead.
