Chapter 13 - The Husband Who Came Back
Police searched for Matthew for forty-eight hours.
His transport vehicle had been struck at an intersection by a stolen utility truck.
Two officers were injured.
Matthew escaped through the rear door.
Security footage showed him entering a dark SUV three blocks away.
The vehicle was later found burned.
Emma was moved immediately.
New location.
No visitors without screening.
Patricia stayed nearby.
Evelyn was placed temporarily under police protection after her security footage became important evidence.
Emma hated that.
“You shouldn’t have to leave your house because of me.”
Evelyn spoke through video.
“I left because a federal agent put me in a hotel with free room service.”
Emma almost smiled.
“You’re impossible.”
“Correct.”
“What if Matthew comes after you?”
“Then he’ll discover that widows with casseroles can still dial emergency numbers.”
Emma laughed.
It felt good.
For twenty seconds, life seemed normal.
Then an agent entered Emma’s room.
“Ms. Carter, we need to move.”
Again.
Emma did not ask why.
She had learned that when federal agents said move, questions came later.
They transferred her to a medical safe facility because of her advanced pregnancy.
That night, contractions began.
At first, Emma assumed stress.
Then they became regular.
Dr. Morgan was brought in under protective escort.
“You’re thirty-seven weeks,” she told Emma. “If labor continues, we’re delivering.”
Emma cried.
Not because she was afraid of birth.
Because Matthew was missing.
“I can’t do this while he’s out there.”
Dr. Morgan squeezed her hand.
“You already are.”
Labor progressed slowly.
Patricia arrived.
Teresa arrived.
Two federal agents stood outside.
Emma endured eleven hours.
At 6:42 the next morning, her daughter was born.
Six pounds, eleven ounces.
Healthy.
Loud.
Furious.
Perfect.
Emma held her and sobbed.
“Hello, Lily.”
She had chosen the name months earlier.
Matthew hated it.
That made her love it more.
For six hours, the outside world vanished.
Then Agent Shaw entered.
Emma saw the expression on her face.
“No.”
“Emma…”
“No. Not today.”
“I need to tell you something.”
Emma looked down at Lily.
“Is Matthew here?”
“No.”
“Then whatever it is can wait.”
Shaw hesitated.
Then nodded.
“Okay.”
She turned to leave.
Emma stopped her.
“Rebecca.”
Shaw looked back.
“Is he close?”
A pause.
“We don’t know.”
That was worse.
That night, a nurse entered carrying a bouquet.
White lilies.
Emma’s stomach tightened.
“I don’t want flowers.”
“They were delivered downstairs.”
“By who?”
“No card.”
Agent Shaw immediately inspected them.
Nothing unusual.
No device.
No note.
Emma still asked for them to be removed.
At midnight, Lily slept beside her.
Patricia dozed in a chair.
Emma looked out the dark window.
Then she noticed movement.
A man stood near the parking structure.
Too far away to identify.
Emma pressed the call button.
Agents responded.
By the time they reached the lot, the man was gone.
But he left something behind.
A hospital visitor badge.
Name: Michael Turner.
Fake identification.
On the back, written by hand:
THE WRONG BABY SURVIVED.
Emma stared at the words.
“What does that mean?”
No one knew.
Then her hospital phone rang.
Not her cellphone.
The room phone.
Emma looked at Shaw.
Shaw motioned not to answer.
It rang again.
Again.
Finally Shaw activated recording and lifted the receiver.
“Hello?”
Silence.
Then Matthew’s voice.
“Put my wife on.”
Emma stopped breathing.
Shaw said, “Matthew, this is Special Agent Rebecca Shaw.”
“I know who you are.”
“Tell me where you are.”
He laughed.
Then said, “Ask Emma if Lily has Thomas’s eyes.”
Emma reached for the phone.
Shaw shook her head.
Emma took it anyway.
“Matthew.”
Silence.
Then his breathing.
Emma’s voice steadied.
“You lost.”
Matthew laughed softly.
“You think this was about me?”
“You tried to destroy me.”
“I tried to survive.”
“By hurting me?”
“You don’t understand what I found.”
“What did you find?”
“Your father.”
“My father is dead.”
“That’s what they told you.”
Emma froze.
Shaw began signaling technicians.
Emma whispered, “What did you say?”
Matthew’s voice changed.
Fear.
Real fear.
“I saw him, Emma.”
“Where?”
“Two years ago.”
“You’re lying.”
“He told me not to marry you.”
Emma’s hands went cold.
“You married me five years ago.”
“I know.”
“Then how could he tell you two years ago?”
Matthew breathed into the phone.
May you like
“Because Thomas Carter is alive.”
The line disconnected.
