Chapter 9 - THE GIRL BEHIND THE BLUE DOOR|
Three days later, Claire called me at six in the morning.
I knew something had happened before she spoke.
Her breathing was uneven.
And when she finally said my name, her voice sounded as though she had been crying all night.
"Emma?"
I sat up carefully.
"Claire, what's wrong?"
A pause.
Then she whispered, "They found her."
My heart stopped.
"Your daughter?"
Claire started sobbing.
"Yes."
I pressed a hand over my mouth.
"She's alive?"
"She's alive."
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
Then I began crying too.
Claire laughed through her tears.
"She's alive, Emma."
I heard someone speaking quietly in the background.
Then Claire took a shaky breath.
"The investigators matched the hospital records."
"What happened?"
"They found the original neonatal records and compared them with the placement documents."
"Are they sure?"
"They're arranging DNA confirmation."
Her voice broke.
"But the dates, medical details, and transfer information match."
I closed my eyes.
For months, Claire had been grieving a child who might have been growing up only a few miles away.
Now, for the first time, there was a real possibility she would see her daughter again.
"Where is she?" I whispered.
Claire hesitated.
"With Caroline Ashford."
I gripped the phone.
"Is she safe?"
"The investigators say she's being cared for."
I exhaled.
"Thank God."
Claire began crying again.
"I don't know what to do."
"You don't have to do everything today."
"What if she doesn't recognize me?"
My heart broke.
"She's very young, Claire."
"But she knows another woman's voice."
I swallowed.
"Then you'll let her get to know yours."
There was a long silence.
Then Claire whispered, "Do you really believe I can be her mother?"
I looked down at my stomach.
"You already are."
After the call, I sat beside the window and watched the morning sunlight move across the floor.
Matteo's photograph stood on the shelf.
I picked it up.
"They found her," I whispered.
His smile looked impossibly bright.
"You did it, Matt."
Then I shook my head.
"No."
My eyes filled.
"We're still doing it."
That afternoon, Detective Hayes met with Claire, her attorney, and the relevant child welfare professionals to explain the next steps.
Because the little girl had been raised in another household, everyone agreed that any changes needed to be handled carefully and lawfully.
Claire would receive information about her daughter.
The child would be protected from publicity.
And the courts would determine how to address the allegedly fraudulent placement while prioritizing her welfare.
I was relieved.
But I was also frightened.
Because the more investigators uncovered, the more I realized how many people had been willing to believe convenient lies.
Caroline Ashford had reportedly claimed she believed the placement was lawful.
She said the foundation had provided documents showing that the birth mother had voluntarily relinquished her parental rights.
But Claire had signed no such agreement.
The signatures on the papers were being examined.
And one of them appeared suspiciously similar to the signature Dr. Voss had asked Claire to provide on an ordinary medical intake form.
When Leonardo heard that, he stared at Anthony.
"They copied her signature?"
Anthony nodded.
"That's one possibility the forensic review will consider."
Leonardo shook his head.
"My brother must have seen the same thing."
"Possibly."
"He would have gone straight to Richard."
Anthony looked thoughtful.
"That could explain the photograph outside the garage."
I remembered Matteo standing beside Richard and Arthur Pike.
"Was he trying to confront them?"
"We're still reconstructing the meeting."
That evening, Leonardo visited me at the apartment.
He brought groceries, a bag of baby clothes, and a small wooden rocking chair.
I stared at the chair.
"Leonardo."
He looked embarrassed.
"Too much?"
I walked toward it.
It was painted white, with a little blue cushion tied to the back.
"Where did you find this?"
He hesitated.
"Matteo bought it."
My hand flew to my mouth.
"What?"
Leonardo nodded.
"It was in storage at one of his properties."
I stared.
"But he didn't know I was pregnant."
"He bought it before you married."
I looked up.
Leonardo smiled sadly.
"He told me he wanted children someday."
My eyes filled.
"He never told me about the chair."
"He was saving it."
I touched the smooth wooden arm.
There was a tiny mark underneath.
I bent down.
Someone had carved two initials into the wood.
M.M.
Matteo Moretti.
I burst into tears.
Leonardo looked alarmed.
"I'm sorry."
"No."
I shook my head.
"Please don't apologize."
I sat down carefully.
The chair rocked beneath me.
And for one moment, I imagined Matteo standing behind me with his hands resting on my shoulders.
"He would have been a wonderful father," I whispered.
Leonardo nodded.
"The best."
We were still sitting there when Anthony called.
His voice sounded unusually serious.
"Leonardo, I need you to come to the office."
"What happened?"
"We've received additional evidence from the financial investigation."
"About Richard?"
"Yes."
Leonardo looked at me.
"Can it wait until morning?"
Anthony hesitated.
"I don't think it should."
Leonardo stood.
"All right."
I caught his hand.
"Be careful."
He looked down at me.
"I will."
Then I added, "And come back."
His expression softened.
"I promised."
He left twenty minutes later.
At nine o'clock, my phone rang.
It was an unfamiliar number.
I almost ignored it.
Then I remembered the anonymous messages.
I answered cautiously.
"Hello?"
A woman's voice whispered, "Emma Moretti?"
"Who's calling?"
"My name is Margaret Hale."
My blood ran cold.
I stood so quickly that the chair rocked backward.
"What do you want?"
"Please don't hang up."
I looked toward the door.
"How did you get my number?"
"That doesn't matter."
"It matters to me."
She took a shaky breath.
"I want to tell you what happened to your husband."
My heart stopped.
"Then tell the police."
"I can't."
"Why?"
"Because Richard knows where my family lives."
I gripped the phone.
"Why are you calling me?"
"Because Matteo asked me to help him."
A terrible silence followed.
"What?"
"He came to me two days before he died."
I could barely breathe.
"He said he had copies of the records."
Margaret's voice broke.
"And he wanted me to testify."
"Did you?"
"No."
She began crying.
"I was afraid."
I stared at Matteo's photograph.
"Then why should I trust you now?"
"Because I have something your husband left with me."
"What?"
"A recording."
My heart began racing.
"Of what?"
"His final conversation with Richard."
I closed my eyes.
"Where is it?"
Margaret hesitated.
"I can't send it electronically."
"Why not?"
"Because someone has already tried to access my files."
I looked toward the window.
"Then give it to the police."
"I will."
She swallowed.
"But first, there's something you need to know."
I held my breath.
"Matteo knew that Arthur Pike was following him."
"I know."
"He also knew who was paying Pike."
My chest tightened.
"Richard?"
"No."
I stared at the wall.
"Then who?"
Margaret's voice dropped to a whisper.
"The payment instructions were coming from Bianca's private account."
I felt sick.
She continued.
"But Bianca didn't have full control of the account."
"What do you mean?"
"Her father had access."
I closed my eyes.
"So you don't know who ordered it."
"No."
Margaret began crying again.
"But I know something else."
"What?"
"The truck driver wasn't the first person sent to stop Matteo."
My heart stopped.
"What?"
"There was another plan."
"To do what?"
Margaret hesitated.
"Make him disappear."
I gripped the phone.
"And what changed?"
She took a shaking breath.
"Matteo told Richard he'd already arranged for the evidence to reach Leonardo."
I stared at the photograph on the shelf.
"That wasn't true," I whispered.
Margaret sounded confused.
"What?"
"He was still trying to tell Leonardo."
There was a long silence.
Then Margaret whispered, "Oh, God."
"What?"
"Richard must have believed the evidence was already gone."
I couldn't breathe.
Margaret continued.
"That means the people involved may have spent eight months searching for something they thought Matteo had delivered."
I looked toward the old suitcase in the corner.
The one with the torn lining.
The one that had held his brown envelope.
And suddenly I remembered something.
When I removed the envelope, I'd felt another layer of stitching beneath it.
I hadn't thought anything of it.
May you like
But now I stood very still.
Because I realized Matteo might have hidden more than one secret in that suitcase.
