Chapter 8 - The Daughter They Buried
Abigail read the birth certificate three times.
Then she turned it facedown.
“No.”
Tessa watched her carefully.
“No what?”
“No, I don’t believe this.”
“Why?”
“Because my father had one daughter.”
Tessa said nothing.
Abigail looked at her.
“Me.”
“Documents disagree.”
“Documents can be forged.”
“That’s exactly what Monroe said about the photograph.”
“And maybe he was right.”
“Convenient.”
Abigail pushed herself off the hospital bed.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Look at me like I’m part of this.”
“I don’t know what you’re part of.”
Pain flashed across Abigail’s face.
Tessa regretted the words immediately.
But not enough to take them back.
Detective Monroe stood near the window.
“We verified the seal.”
Both women turned.
He held his phone.
“The certificate is real.”
Abigail sat down.
Monroe continued.
“Evelyn Rose Hart was born at Mercy Women’s Hospital in 1992.”
“What happened to her?” Abigail asked.
“Officially?”
“Yes.”
“She died at nine days old.”
Tessa frowned.
“That woman is not dead.”
“Apparently.”
“What does the death record say?”
“Respiratory failure.”
Abigail stared at the floor.
“My grandmother.”
“What about her?” Monroe asked.
“She hated scandal.”
Tessa folded her arms.
“That’s not enough to fake a baby’s death.”
“You didn’t know Eleanor Hart.”
Abigail looked at them.
“My grandmother controlled everything. My father’s education. His marriage. His company. His friends. She decided which charities he supported and which people were allowed inside our house.”
“And your father had a child with my mother,” Tessa said.
Abigail nodded slowly.
“Before he married my mother.”
Tessa suddenly remembered childhood photographs.
Her mother, Margaret Quinn, had worked two jobs.
She never spoke about Tessa’s father.
She never spoke about Maya’s father either.
Whenever Tessa asked about the past, Margaret’s answer was always the same.
Some doors stay closed because monsters live behind them.
At the time, Tessa thought it was bitterness.
Now she wondered if it was a warning.
Monroe’s phone rang.
He stepped into the hall.
Abigail looked at Tessa.
“Did your mother ever mention my father?”
“No.”
“What about Evelyn?”
“No.”
“Then maybe she didn’t know the baby survived.”
Tessa’s eyes narrowed.
“Or maybe she was paid to stay silent.”
“That isn’t fair.”
“Neither is finding out my family is tied to yours through a secret baby and a dead sister.”
Abigail winced.
Tessa sighed.
“I’m sorry.”
“No. You’re angry.”
“I am.”
“You should be.”
For the first time since the hospital attack, they sat without pretending trust was easy.
Several minutes later, Monroe returned.
His face had changed.
“What happened?”
“They found Grant Holloway.”
Abigail stiffened.
Her brother-in-law had been transferred to county custody after his arrest.
“What do you mean, found?”
“He was supposed to arrive at the detention center last night.”
“He didn’t?”
“The transport van was discovered outside Bowie.”
Tessa stood.
“Where is Grant?”
“Gone.”
Abigail went pale.
“Did he escape?”
“No.”
Monroe placed a photograph on the table.
The transport van sat abandoned beneath an overpass.
The rear doors were open.
Blood stained the floor.
Tessa looked at Monroe.
“Whose blood?”
“The driver’s.”
“And Grant?”
“No body.”
Abigail whispered, “Someone took him.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Monroe looked toward the birth certificate.
“That’s what worries me.”
At noon, the hospital received a package.
No return address.
Inside was a child’s red shoe.
Abigail began crying as soon as she saw it.
Tessa did not understand.
“What is it?”
Abigail stared at the shoe.
“My father kept one exactly like this in his desk.”
Monroe pulled on gloves.
“Why?”
“He said it belonged to a cousin who died young.”
Tessa turned the shoe over.
There were faded initials inside.
E.R.H.
Evelyn Rose Hart.
Beneath the shoe lay a cassette tape.
Monroe found an old player in hospital storage.
The recording began with static.
Then Samuel Hart’s voice filled the room.
Abigail covered her mouth.
Her father had been dead for eighteen months.
But there was no mistaking him.
“If you’re hearing this, Eleanor found out.”
A woman sobbed in the background.
Tessa recognized her mother’s voice immediately.
Samuel continued.
“The baby is alive. Margaret, listen to me. Evelyn is alive.”
Tessa gripped the edge of the table.
Her mother cried, “Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“Samuel!”
“My mother took her.”
Abigail closed her eyes.
Samuel’s voice became frantic.
“She bribed someone at Mercy. She created the death certificate. She told me if I went to police, she would destroy you and the girls.”
“The girls?” Tessa whispered.
The recording continued.
“I’m going to find Evelyn. I swear to you. But if anything happens to me, go to Maya.”
Tessa froze.
Maya would have been only sixteen at the time.
Samuel continued.
“She knows where I hid the records.”
Static swallowed the next few seconds.
Then Margaret’s voice returned.
“What records?”
“The ones proving how Eleanor built Hart Biotech.”
The tape clicked.
Everyone remained silent.
Then a final voice appeared.
Not Samuel.
Not Margaret.
An older woman.
Cold.
Controlled.
Eleanor Hart.
“You always were weak, Samuel.”
Abigail’s face drained of color.
On the tape, Samuel shouted.
A crash followed.
Then silence.
The recording ended.
Tessa stared at Abigail.
“Your grandmother knew.”
Abigail nodded.
“She knew everything.”
Monroe picked up the cassette.
“Where is Eleanor Hart now?”
Abigail looked at him.
“Rosewood.”
“What’s Rosewood?”
“A private memory-care facility outside Washington.”
Tessa’s stomach tightened.
“Your grandmother is alive?”
Abigail nodded.
“She’s ninety-one.”
Monroe reached for his coat.
“We’re going there.”
Before he reached the door, Abigail’s phone rang.
Unknown number.
She answered.
Nobody spoke.
Then a familiar male voice whispered:
“Abby?”
Abigail stood so quickly the monitor cable pulled loose.
“Grant?”
Tessa and Monroe stared at her.
Grant was breathing hard.
“I need help.”
“Where are you?”
“I don’t know.”
“What happened?”
“They took me.”
“Who?”
Grant began crying.
Not quietly.
Not dramatically.
Like a man who had seen something that had destroyed him.
“Your grandmother.”
Abigail’s face went blank.
“My grandmother is in a nursing facility.”
“No.”
A long silence.
May you like
Then Grant whispered:
“That woman at Rosewood isn’t Eleanor Hart.”
