Chapter 4: The Nurse in the Photograph
For several seconds, Emily couldn't move.
She stared at the photograph in Margaret's trembling hands.
The young woman standing outside the maternity ward wore a white nurse's uniform. Her dark hair was tied behind her head, and a silver bracelet circled her wrist.
The same bracelet Emily had worn since childhood.
But the name written beneath the photograph was what made her stomach turn.
Margaret Whitmore.
Emily slowly looked at the elderly woman sitting beside her.
"That's you?""
Margaret nodded.
"But you weren't a nurse, were you?""
Margaret shook her head.
James immediately stepped forward.
"Mother, put that photograph away.""
Margaret refused.
She held it against her chest, then began signing rapidly.
Emily watched her hands.
"You're saying you didn't take the babies?""
Margaret nodded.
James rubbed his forehead.
"This is exactly why I didn't want you involved.""
Emily turned toward him.
"Then explain it.""
"There's nothing to explain.""
"Your mother has been trying to tell me something since yesterday. You've interrupted her every time.""
"Because you don't understand what you're getting involved in.""
"Then help me understand!""
James slammed his palm against the table.
"Because people died over this!""
The room fell silent.
Margaret's eyes widened.
Thomas Reed stepped closer.
"James. That's enough.""
But Emily had already heard him.
"Who died?""
James looked toward the window.
For the first time, he seemed to realize that he had said too much.
"That's not relevant.""
"Was it my mother?""
"No.""
"Was it Elizabeth?""
James's jaw tightened.
Margaret suddenly began signing again.
This time, Emily recognized the movement.
She pointed at James.
Then made a sign indicating a person who had hidden something.
Emily frowned.
"You're saying James knows?""
Margaret nodded.
James turned sharply.
"Mother!""
The elderly woman continued.
Her hands moved slowly, almost painfully.
Emily understood fragments.
The hospital.
The night.
The fire.
A locked door.
Then Margaret pointed at the falcon on Emily's wrist.
Emily felt cold.
"What happened that night?""
Thomas finally spoke.
"October seventeenth, 1998. There was a fire at St. Catherine's Private Maternity Hospital.""
Emily looked at him.
"That was the hospital in the photograph?""
"Yes.""
"What caused it?""
"Officially, an electrical fault in the records department.""
"And unofficially?""
Thomas glanced at James.
"Some of the hospital's records disappeared before investigators arrived.""
Emily looked down at the photograph again.
"Why were two babies involved?""
Thomas took a breath.
"Margaret's daughter Elizabeth gave birth that evening. Your mother Sarah was also there.""
"Why?""
"She was helping Elizabeth. They were extremely close.""
Emily shook her head.
"My mother never told me she had a sister.""
"Sarah wasn't Margaret's biological sister," Thomas explained.
"She was adopted into the family when they were children. But Margaret considered her a sister in every way that mattered.""
Emily looked at Margaret.
The elderly woman nodded, tears gathering in her eyes.
"Then why did my mother leave?""
James answered before Margaret could.
"Because she stole something.""
Margaret's face tightened.
She shook her head violently.
James continued.
"She took one of the babies and disappeared.""
Emily stood abruptly.
"You're accusing my mother of kidnapping?""
"I'm telling you what the records say.""
"What records?""
James opened the folder again.
He pulled out a document bearing the hospital's seal.
The paper was damaged around the edges.
At the bottom was Sarah Carter's signature.
Emily stared at it.
The handwriting was unmistakable.
But there was something strange about the document.
The signature looked as though it had been written with a different pen from the rest of the page.
"Can I see that?""
James hesitated.
Then he handed it over.
Emily read the statement.
I, Sarah Carter, acknowledge that I removed the infant identified as Baby B from St. Catherine's Hospital without the consent of the attending family.
She read it twice.
"No.""
James crossed his arms.
"Your mother signed it.""
"She wouldn't.""
"You didn't know her as well as you think.""
Emily looked up.
"Don't you dare tell me who my mother was.""
Margaret reached across the table.
She caught Emily's hand and signed urgently.
Emily watched.
"She's saying it's false.""
Margaret nodded.
Then she pointed toward the signature.
She made a writing motion.
Then crossed her hands.
Emily understood.
Forged.
"Someone forged my mother's signature?""
Margaret nodded.
James took the paper from Emily.
"Mother, you're exhausted. We're done.""
He signaled toward the door.
Two guards appeared.
But before they could approach, Thomas stepped in front of them.
"Mrs. Whitmore has requested that Emily remain.""
James stared at him.
"You're forgetting who signs your paycheck.""
Thomas didn't move.
"And you're forgetting that I'm still her physician.""
For several seconds, the two men stared at each other.
Then James turned to Emily.
"You have until tomorrow morning to leave this family alone.""
Emily looked at Margaret.
"I'll stay as long as she wants me here.""
James gave a cold smile.
"Then you'll regret it.""
He walked out.
The doors slammed behind him.
Margaret immediately began signing again.
Emily sat beside her.
"What is it?""
The old woman pointed to the silver bracelet.
Then she pointed to Emily's wrist.
Emily removed it.
The small crescent-shaped charm had a tiny seam along its edge.
Margaret pressed the charm with her thumbnail.
A hidden compartment opened.
Inside was a thin strip of folded paper.
Emily stared.
"How did you know?""
Margaret signed.
Your mother.
Emily carefully unfolded the paper.
There were only a few words.
If the falcon returns, open the seventh drawer.
Emily looked at Thomas.
"What does that mean?""
Thomas's face had changed.
He walked toward the sitting-room door and checked the hallway.
Then he locked it.
"There's something you need to know about this house.""
"What?""
"Mrs. Whitmore has an old study on the east side. It's been locked for years.""
Margaret nodded eagerly.
Thomas continued.
"There are seven drawers in the desk. The seventh one has a false bottom. I discovered it many years ago, but James ordered me never to open it.""
Emily looked at the note.
"Why?""
Thomas lowered his voice.
"Because the last time someone tried, they were dismissed from the estate and never heard from again.""
Margaret gripped Emily's hand.
Then she signed something.
Emily watched carefully.
"Tonight?""
Margaret nodded.
Thomas looked toward the window.
"Tonight, then.""
At eleven forty-five that night, Emily stood outside the old study.
Thomas held a small flashlight.
The corridor smelled of dust and furniture polish.
"James usually sleeps on the third floor," he whispered.
"But his office is directly above us.""
Emily glanced at the locked door.
"How do we get in?""
Thomas produced a brass key.
"Mrs. Whitmore gave this to me twenty years ago.""
The lock turned with a soft click.
Inside, the study was enormous.
Books lined the walls.
A large desk stood beneath a portrait of Margaret as a young woman.
Emily approached it.
Seven drawers.
She opened the first.
Old stationery.
The second contained photographs.
The third held letters.
The fourth was empty.
The fifth contained medical documents.
The sixth held a small velvet box.
Emily reached for the seventh.
It wouldn't open.
Thomas knelt beside the desk.
"There's a mechanism.""
He examined the wooden panel.
Then he noticed a small falcon carved beneath the handle.
"Try your bracelet.""
Emily pressed the crescent charm against the carving.
A faint click sounded.
The drawer slid open.
Inside was a sealed envelope, a hospital identification bracelet, and a small cassette tape.
Emily picked up the bracelet.
The name on it was barely readable.
ELIZABETH WHITMORE.
But the date of birth was not what she expected.
It was the same date printed on Emily's birth certificate.
Emily's hands began shaking.
Thomas opened the envelope.
Inside was a handwritten statement.
He read the first line.
Then he stopped.
"What is it?"" Emily asked.
Thomas looked at her.
His voice was barely audible.
"This document says that the second baby was never born to Elizabeth.""
Emily frowned.
"Then whose baby was it?""
Thomas looked at the photograph in the drawer.
Then at Emily.
May you like
And before he could answer, a light suddenly switched on behind them.
"Because that baby," James said from the doorway, "was mine.""
