Chapter 3 - THE WOMAN WHO REMEMBERED TWO CRIES
Ava drove her elbow backward and struck a chest.
The hands released her chair. Dishes shattered. Someone cursed. Lena seized the wheelchair and pushed it toward the front windows as emergency lights flickered on.
The man in the dark coat was already gone.
Thomas burst through the cafe door seconds later. “Mrs. Blackwood.”
“Get us out,” Ava said.
They left through the kitchen and took a narrow service road toward the river. Lena sat beside Ava in the rear seat, breathing hard.
“Do people always try to abduct your clients?” Ava asked.
“Only the interesting ones.”
“Was that supposed to help?”
“No.”
Lena pulled a small recorder from her pocket. “I copied the hospital log. The original was removed from the archive yesterday.”
“By whom?”
“A company called Orison Preservation Services.”
Ava had seen the name before. It appeared on Blackwood Foundation invoices.
Thomas turned onto a bridge. “We are being followed.”
The black sedan appeared two cars behind them.
Lena looked through the rear window. “Can you lose them?”
Thomas’s expression did not change. “I used to drive Jonathan Blackwood.”
He accelerated.
The chase lasted nine minutes. Thomas cut through an industrial district, crossed a warehouse yard, and entered a delivery tunnel beneath the railway. When they emerged, the sedan was gone.
They did not return to Blackwood House.
Instead, Lena took Ava to a modest apartment above a closed tailor shop. On the third floor waited an elderly woman named Miriam Vale.
The name stopped Ava at the doorway.
“Vale was Margaret’s maiden name,” she said.
Miriam nodded. “She was my younger sister.”
The woman was thin, silver haired, and almost blind. She reached for Ava’s hand and held it with surprising strength.
“I have waited a long time for someone from that house to ask the right question.”
Ava sat opposite her. “What happened when Margaret gave birth?”
Miriam’s face tightened. “She was not supposed to have children. The doctors said her heart would not survive pregnancy. Jonathan wanted an heir more than he wanted a wife.”
“Was she pregnant with twins?”
“Yes.”
“Ethan and Elias?”
Miriam flinched at the second name. “Who told you that?”
“A medical report.”
“Then the report survived.”
“What report?”
Miriam released Ava’s hand. “Jonathan funded an experimental neonatal program. He believed one twin had a rare blood disorder. The program was not approved. The babies were treated as research subjects before Margaret was fully awake.”
Ava felt sick. “Which baby was ill?”
“That is the question that destroyed them.”
“Them?”
“Jonathan and Margaret.”
Miriam turned toward the dark window. “The first baby was strong. The second stopped breathing. Dr. Silas Kessler, Adrian’s father, performed an experimental transfusion. Afterward, the wrist tags were removed during emergency treatment.”
“They mixed up the twins.”
“No one could prove which child was which.”
Ava thought of the report naming Ethan Vale and Elias Blackwood as identical twin candidates.
“What did Jonathan do?”
“He chose.”
“Chose what?”
“Which baby would become the heir.”
The room seemed to contract around them.
Miriam continued, “One child was taken to Blackwood House. The other remained in the private wing under a different name. Jonathan told Margaret the second baby died.”
“But he did not.”
“No.”
“Where was he taken?”
Miriam’s cloudy eyes filled with tears. “Under the house.”
Ava stared at her.
“The cellar?”
“It was not a cellar then. It was a treatment ward. Jonathan built it beneath the old foundation so no inspector could find it. Silas Kessler continued the experiments there.”
“Is Elias still alive?”
Miriam shook her head. “I do not know. Years later, Margaret discovered the truth. She tried to enter the ward, but Jonathan had her committed to a private institution for six months. When she returned, she never spoke of the child again.”
Ava remembered Margaret pressing the hidden button without panic. “Why would she protect the secret now?”
“Because secrets can become cages. After enough years, people decorate them and call them homes.”
Lena leaned forward. “Who sent Ava the messages?”
Miriam pointed toward a cabinet. “There is a box inside. Bring it to me.”
Lena retrieved a small wooden box. Miriam opened it and removed a key attached to a faded blue ribbon.
“This belonged to Margaret when she was young. It opens the records room in the library.”
Ava examined the key. Its round head matched the indentation in the hidden panel.
“Why give it to me?”
“Because she will never give it to Ethan.”
“Why not?”
“Because Ethan may not be the child she brought home.”
Before Ava could answer, the apartment door exploded inward.
Two masked men entered.
Thomas struck the first with a lamp. Lena pulled Ava behind the sofa. The second man raised a pistol.
Miriam stood between him and Ava.
The shot was deafening.
Miriam collapsed.
The gunman fled as police sirens approached from the street.
Ava crawled from her wheelchair and pressed both hands against Miriam’s wound.
Miriam’s breath came in shallow bursts.
“Listen,” she whispered.
“I am listening.”
“The child below the house was not alone.”
Ava leaned closer.
May you like
Miriam’s final words were almost soundless.
“There were three beds.”
