Chapter 5 - The Silver Door
The police arrived twenty minutes later.
We did not tell them everything.
Daniel insisted we report only the trespasser and the threatening call. He said mentioning Arden without evidence would alert the wrong people.
Two officers searched the garden. They found footprints near the fence and a section of fabric caught on a branch, but no intruder.
The older officer, Sergeant Cole, questioned Noah.
“Did you see the woman’s face?”
Noah nodded.
“Did you recognize her?”
“She was at the hospital.”
“Was she a nurse?”
“She dressed like one.”
“What color was her hair?”
“Black.”
Daniel interrupted.
“He’s frightened. We should stop.”
Sergeant Cole looked at him.
“Your son may be our only witness.”
Noah gripped my hand.
“She had a cut on her face.”
The officer wrote something in his notebook.
“A scar?”
Noah traced a line from his mouth to his jaw.
Sergeant Cole’s pen stopped.
He exchanged a glance with the younger officer.
“You know her,” I said.
“No, ma’am.”
“You reacted.”
“There was a woman matching that description involved in a hospital abduction twelve years ago.”
Daniel’s breathing changed.
“What hospital?” he asked.
“St. Catherine’s.”
The room fell silent.
Sergeant Cole closed his notebook.
“The infant was recovered. The suspect was never identified.”
“Was the Arden Institute involved?” I asked.
Daniel shot me a warning glance.
The sergeant’s expression became unreadable.
“Why would you ask that?”
“I saw the institute’s name on donation plaques.”
“That doesn’t mean they were involved.”
“Did they fund the maternity wing twelve years ago?”
“I don’t know.”
He stood.
“We’ll increase patrols around your street. Keep your doors locked.”
After the officers left, I confronted Daniel.
“You recognized the case.”
He nodded.
“My mother mentioned it once.”
“What did she say?”
“That the wrong child had been returned.”
I felt sick.
“What does that mean?”
“She claimed the hospital recovered a baby, but not the baby who had been taken.”
I immediately called Sergeant Cole.
The call went to voicemail.
Daniel closed the curtains.
“We need to leave.”
“Where?”
“My father owned a cabin north of Mercer.”
“You said you didn’t know where he was.”
“I don’t. But the cabin may contain information.”
“We’re not dragging two children into the wilderness while someone is hunting us.”
“We can’t stay here.”
I looked toward the nursery.
“We don’t even know the baby’s name.”
Daniel’s face softened.
“No.”
The DNA test was completed that afternoon through a private laboratory. I paid for expedited results using my maiden name.
The technician swabbed the baby’s cheek, then mine.
“How quickly?” I asked.
“Twenty-four to forty-eight hours.”
I also requested a test against Daniel.
If the baby belonged to one of us, we needed to know.
Before leaving, I asked the technician to contact only me.
On the drive home, Noah remained silent in the back seat.
The baby slept beside him.
After several miles, he spoke.
“The silver door had a number.”
I looked at him through the mirror.
“What number?”
“Nine.”
Daniel’s hands tightened on the steering wheel.
“Are you sure?”
Noah nodded.
“There was a red nine painted on it.”
Daniel turned onto a side street.
“St. Catherine’s service level has an old surgical wing. Room Nine was part of it.”
“How do you know?”
“My mother worked there before Arden built its own facility.”
“Is it still used?”
“It was sealed years ago.”
I looked at the sleeping baby.
“Then we’re going back.”
Daniel refused.
I threatened to take Noah and the baby alone.
At nine that evening, we parked in the underground garage beneath St. Catherine’s.
Dr. Shaw’s security card opened the staff elevator.
The lower levels smelled of bleach and damp concrete. Several corridors were blocked by construction barriers.
Noah held my hand.
He guided us without hesitation.
“Here,” he whispered.
At the end of a dark corridor stood a metal door marked with a faded red nine.
Daniel tried Dr. Shaw’s card.
The lock clicked.
Inside was an abandoned observation ward.
Dust covered empty bassinets. Old monitors stood against stained walls. A row of glass rooms extended into darkness.
Noah walked toward the third room.
“This is where she brought the other baby.”
My flashlight moved across the floor.
Fresh wheel tracks cut through the dust.
Someone had used the room recently.
Daniel found a cabinet containing disposable gloves, formula bottles and unopened medical supplies.
“They’re operating here,” he said.
A soft sound came from behind the wall.
A baby crying.
We followed the noise to a stainless steel storage unit. Daniel pulled it aside, revealing a narrow passage.
At the end stood another door.
It opened into a brightly lit room.
Six empty bassinets lined the walls.
On a table lay the yellow blanket my mother had knitted.
I ran toward it.
The fabric smelled faintly of baby lotion.
Beneath the blanket was a photograph.
It showed Sophie sleeping in the arms of the scarred woman.
On the back, someone had written:
She is safe because the boy remembers.
May you like
Before we could speak, the door slammed behind us.
Gas hissed from the ceiling vents.
