Chapter 9: The Daughter They Erased
By late afternoon, Detective Harris had officers stationed outside our house, outside Eleanor's home, and outside the county records office.
The original birth record had disappeared from a locked archive room less than ten minutes after the investigators arrived.
The security camera had been disabled.
The access log showed that the door had been opened with an employee's credentials.
The employee was missing.
Daniel sat beside me in the police station conference room, staring at the empty space where the photograph had been.
Sophie was with Rebecca, drawing quietly in another room.
I could hear the soft scratch of colored pencils through the open door.
It was the only ordinary sound left in my life.
“Tell me about the adoption,” I said.
Daniel looked up.
“What?””
“Your mother adopted Rebecca. Or at least, that's what the paperwork says. Tell me everything you remember.””
He rubbed his hands together.
“I remember Mother bringing home a little girl when I was seventeen. She said Rebecca had been living with another family, but they couldn't care for her anymore.””
“Did she explain why?””
“She said the child had medical problems and needed stability.””
“Did Rebecca call her Mom?””
“Yes.””
“Did she look like your mother?””
Daniel hesitated.
“I suppose.””
“Did anyone ever mention Karen?””
“No.””
“Did anyone ever mention Sophie?””
He shook his head.
“Not until Sophie was born.””
I waited.
He continued.
“When Karen gave birth, Mother came to the hospital. She stayed for a few hours, then left. She told me she needed to handle something with the insurance company.””
“Did you see the birth records?””
“No.””
“Did Karen?””
“I assumed she did.””
I stared at him.
“You assumed?””
He looked away.
“I know how that sounds.””
“It sounds like everyone in your family made decisions about children without asking the children or their mothers what they wanted.””
He didn't argue.
I leaned forward.
“What happened when Rebecca died?””
Daniel's face tightened.
“Mother said there had been an accident at the residential facility where she was staying. She told me Rebecca had suffered a medical emergency.””
“Did you see a death certificate?””
“Yes.””
“Was it the same one she showed you for Karen?””
He shook his head.
“No. This one looked official.””
“Did you see a body?””
“No.””
“Did you attend a funeral?””
“No.””
I sat back.
“Daniel, do you hear yourself?””
He pressed his fingers against his eyes.
“I do now.””
The door opened.
Detective Harris entered with a folder.
“We have a development.””
Daniel stood.
“Did you find the person who took the file?””
“Not yet. But we found the employee's car at a roadside motel twenty miles from here. There was a phone inside.””
“Whose phone?””
“The employee's.””
Detective Harris placed a photograph on the table.
It showed a woman in a dark coat standing outside the motel.
Her hair was short.
Her face was partly obscured by a scarf.
I studied the image.
“Is that Eleanor?””
“We can't confirm it yet.””
Daniel leaned closer.
“That's her coat.””
Detective Harris nodded.
“We're checking the clothing against other footage.””
“What about the woman at Bellweather House?”” I asked.
“We've identified the facility's former medical director. His name is Dr. Peter Voss. He left the country shortly after the facility closed.””
“Can you contact him?””
“We're working through the appropriate channels.””
Daniel sank back into his chair.
“My mother knows where everyone is.””
“Or someone is helping her,” Detective Harris said.
She opened the folder and removed a photocopy of a medical record.
“This was found in an office at Bellweather House. It refers to a patient under the name Rebecca Mercer.””
The record included several dates, a photograph, and a list of medications.
I looked at the photograph.
The woman appeared to be in her late twenties or early thirties.
She had dark hair, a narrow face, and eyes that looked startlingly familiar.
Karen.
I leaned forward.
“That's her.””
Detective Harris nodded.
“The photograph appears to show Karen. But the record identifies her as Rebecca Mercer.””
Daniel stared at the page.
“Why would Karen use Rebecca's name?””
“Possibly because someone else had assigned that identity to her. We're still investigating.””
The record contained another detail.
A note had been typed at the bottom.
*Patient must not be informed of original family placement until authorization is received from E. Mercer.*
I read it twice.
“What does that mean?””
Detective Harris folded her hands.
“It suggests that the patient may not have known her own identity, or that the facility was instructed to withhold information about her family.””
I felt cold.
“Could Karen have been told she was Rebecca?””
“It's possible.””
Daniel looked ill.
“My mother told me Rebecca died eleven years ago.””
“And if Karen was being held under Rebecca's name,” I said, “then someone could have used the death certificate to erase one person and hide another.””
Detective Harris nodded slowly.
“That's one of the possibilities we're examining.””
I thought of Sophie.
The rabbit.
The photograph of the two girls.
The words on the back: Two girls. One family. One lie.
“What happened to Rebecca?”” I asked.
Detective Harris turned to another page.
“We found an additional record showing that a child identified as Rebecca was transferred from Bellweather House to a private residence six weeks ago.””
“Where?””
“The address belongs to a property held by a company associated with Eleanor Mercer.””
Daniel stood.
“She took her home?””
“We don't know who was transferred. The records use the same name for multiple people.””
I stared at the photograph of Karen.
“Then who was the woman who wore Sophie's face?””
Detective Harris looked at me.
“We believe the phrase may refer to the identity confusion itself. But we can't rule out the possibility that someone deliberately made two children appear to be the same person in official records.””
Daniel shook his head.
“That would mean someone planned this before Sophie was born.””
“Yes.””
The answer settled over us.
This wasn't a desperate decision made during a custody dispute.
It was a scheme that might have begun years earlier, when two babies were born and someone decided that one of them belonged to a different family.
My hands began to tremble.
“Why?””
Detective Harris didn't pretend to know.
“We need to establish who benefited from the altered records.””
Daniel looked at the medical report.
“My family's company.””
“Possibly.””
He sat down slowly.
“My father died five years ago. Mother inherited controlling interest in the company.””
“Did your father know about the research program?””
“I don't know.””
“Did he know about Rebecca?””
Daniel looked at the photograph.
“He was the one who told me she was adopted.””
I frowned.
“What exactly did he say?””
Daniel closed his eyes, searching his memory.
“He said some children were born into circumstances they didn't understand, and sometimes adults had to make decisions for them.””
“Did he mention Karen?””
“No.””
“Did he mention Sophie?””
“No.””
I waited.
Then Daniel whispered, “He said Rebecca wasn't the first child my mother had tried to save.””
Detective Harris straightened.
“When did he say that?””
“Years ago. I was in college. I thought he was talking about charity work.””
“Did he explain what he meant?””
“No.””
“Did you ask?””
Daniel shook his head.
“No.””
The silence that followed was broken by a knock at the door.
Rebecca entered.
“Detective Harris, Sophie has something she wants to show you.””
We followed her into the adjoining room.
Sophie sat at the table with her drawing spread before her.
This time, she had drawn three women.
One stood outside a building.
One stood behind a window.
The third stood between two little girls.
Above the woman behind the window, Sophie had written a name.
*Mommy.*
Above the woman standing outside, she had written another.
*Grandma.*
The third name was unfamiliar.
*Rebecca.*
Detective Harris pulled out a chair.
“Can you tell me about your drawing?””
Sophie pointed to the building.
“Mommy told me about this place.””
“Bellweather House?””
Sophie nodded.
“She said she had to stay there until someone remembered her real name.””
I felt my throat tighten.
“Did she tell you who Rebecca was?””
Sophie pointed to the woman standing between the two girls.
“She said Rebecca was the person Grandma wanted everyone to think she was.””
Detective Harris exchanged a glance with me.
“Did your mother tell you where Rebecca is now?””
Sophie shook her head.
“She said Rebecca was taken somewhere else.””
“Where?””
“I don't know.””
Sophie picked up a blue pencil and drew a small circle above the building.
Then she wrote a number.
Eight.
“What's that number?”” I asked.
“Mommy said it was the number of the room.””
“What room?””
“The room where Grandma kept the pictures.””
Detective Harris leaned forward.
“Pictures of whom?””
Sophie looked at her.
“Children.””
The detective went very still.
“Did your mother tell you why your grandmother kept pictures of children?””
Sophie shook her head.
“She said they were all called something different before.””
I felt a chill move down my spine.
Different names.
Different records.
Different identities.
Children separated from their families and given histories that belonged to someone else.
Detective Harris asked Sophie to describe the room, and the child gave her what details she could remember: a green door, a narrow hallway, a clock that didn't work, and a wall covered in photographs.
Then she added one more detail.
“Mommy said if I ever found the room, I should look behind the picture of the little girl with the red ribbon.””
Daniel stared at her.
“What little girl?””
Sophie reached into her pocket and pulled out the photograph of the twins.
The girl in the red ribbon stood on the right.
Detective Harris took the picture.
“Is this the photograph your mother meant?””
Sophie nodded.
“She said the truth was behind her.””
The detective made another call.
This time, she spoke to the team at Bellweather House.
When she finished, she looked at us.
“They've found a concealed compartment behind a framed photograph in Room Eight.””
I felt my pulse quicken.
“What was inside?””
“A small storage drive and several envelopes.””
“Have they opened them?””
“Not yet.””
“Why not?””
“They're preserving the scene and obtaining the necessary authorization.””
Sophie looked down at her hands.
“Mommy said the drive had the names.””
“What names?”” I asked.
She swallowed.
“The real names.””
Detective Harris crouched beside her.
“Sweetheart, do you know your own real name?””
Sophie frowned.
“My name is Sophie.””
“Yes, it is.””
“Mommy said I should always remember that.””
The detective nodded.
“That's good advice.””
Sophie looked at Daniel.
“But she said Grandma might try to change it.””
Daniel's face crumpled.
“She won't,” he whispered.
Sophie studied him.
“You don't know that.””
He lowered his head.
“No,” he admitted.
“I don't.””
An hour later, Detective Harris received confirmation that the storage drive contained scanned documents, photographs, and audio recordings.
The first set of records appeared to concern the original adoption.
The second concerned Bellweather House.
The third contained a list of names, dates of birth, and medical reference numbers.
One name appeared repeatedly.
Eleanor Mercer.
Another appeared beside it.
Peter Voss.
And the final entry was a name I had never expected to see.
Lily Bennett.
My maiden name.
I stared at the screen.
“Why is my name there?””
Detective Harris didn't answer immediately.
She enlarged the entry.
The record contained my date of birth, the name of the hospital where I had been born, and a reference number matching the code on the bag of hair.
Daniel looked at me.
“Lily?””
I couldn't speak.
Detective Harris scrolled down.
Beside my name was a handwritten note.
*Potential guardian placement. Maintain distance until child reaches legal majority.*
I read the sentence again.
Then I looked at the detective.
“Someone was tracking me?””
“We're trying to determine why.””
“Who wrote that?””
The handwriting was clear.
It belonged to Eleanor.
I felt the room tilt.
I had never met Eleanor until Daniel introduced us.
I had never known about Rebecca before Sophie came to live with us.
I had never been to Bellweather House.
Yet my name had been recorded there long before my wedding.
Detective Harris enlarged the next line.
It contained a date from twenty-eight years earlier.
The day I was born.
Beneath it was a final note.
*If Lily ever discovers her connection to the Mercer family, initiate contingency plan.*
Daniel stared at the screen.
“What connection?””
Detective Harris looked at me.
“Lily, do you know anything about your biological family beyond what your parents have told you?””
I thought of my childhood, the photographs in our family albums, the stories my mother had told me about the hospital where I was born.
I thought of how my mother had reacted when she found the hair in Sophie's bag.
And suddenly, I remembered something she had said in the dressing room.
Don't let Daniel take her home.
Not don't let anyone hurt her.
Not call the police immediately.
Don't let Daniel take her home.
I looked at the detective.
“I need to speak to my mother.””
Before she could respond, Daniel's phone rang.
He answered.
His face changed almost immediately.
“Mother?””
He listened.
Then he stood so quickly that his chair scraped across the floor.
“What do you mean you've got Lily's mother?””
He looked at me.
The room fell silent.
Daniel's voice dropped to a whisper.
“Where are you?””
A pause.
Then he said, “Don't touch her.””
He ended the call.
I grabbed his arm.
“What happened?””
He looked at me with an expression I would remember for the rest of my life.
“My mother says she has your mother.””
Detective Harris was already reaching for her radio.
May you like
Daniel swallowed hard.
“And she says if we want her alive, we have to bring Sophie to Bellweather House.””
