Chapter 4: The File Carter Feared
Carter knocked again.
“Mara, open the door.””
My father didn't move.
Neither did I.
The house suddenly felt too small for all the secrets inside it.
Dad glanced at the hospital record in my hand.
“Put that away.””
“What?””
“Put it away before he sees it.””
I folded the paper and slipped it into the pocket of my sweater.
Carter knocked again.
“I know you're in there.””
Dad finally answered.
“So?””
There was silence.
Then Carter said, “Mr. Hayes, this is a family matter.””
Dad opened the door.
Carter stood on the porch in his suit, one hand holding his phone, the other tucked into his coat pocket.
His eyes went immediately to me.
Then to my father.
Then back to me.
“You weren't supposed to involve him.””
Dad stepped outside and closed the door behind him.
“You hit my daughter.””
Carter's face remained expressionless.
“She provoked me.””
Dad stared at him.
“You're going to regret saying that.””
“I don't think you understand the situation.””
“I understand enough.””
Carter looked over Dad's shoulder.
“I need to speak with my wife.””
“You can speak to her with me standing here.””
“That's not appropriate.””
“Neither was putting your hand on her.””
Carter's jaw tightened.
Then his phone buzzed.
He glanced at the screen.
Something flashed across his face.
Fear.
It was gone almost instantly.
But I saw it.
And suddenly I knew.
He was afraid of something.
“What's wrong?”” I asked.
Carter looked at me.
“Nothing.””
“Then why did you come here?””
“To tell you the divorce papers have been revised.””
Dad laughed without humor.
“You came all the way here to discuss paperwork?””
Carter ignored him.
“Mara, I want you at my office at noon.””
“No.””
His eyes hardened.
“You don't understand what happens if you refuse.””
“I understand perfectly.””
He stepped closer.
“You're making a serious mistake.””
I opened the door wider.
“No, Carter. The mistake was believing you loved me.””
For the first time, his expression cracked.
Not guilt.
Anger.
He leaned toward me.
“You have no idea what I've protected you from.””
Dad grabbed his shoulder.
“Back away.””
Carter looked down at Dad's hand.
Then slowly looked up.
“You should ask your daughter what happened seven months ago.””
Dad released him.
Carter turned and walked toward his car.
I watched him open the driver's door.
Then he stopped.
Without looking back, he said, “The truth is going to hurt a lot more than my hand did.””
He drove away.
Dad waited until the car disappeared.
Then he turned to me.
“Now you're telling me everything.””
“I already told you.””
“No.””
He pointed toward the pocket where I'd hidden the hospital record.
“Everything.””
We went into the kitchen.
Dad sat across from me.
I pulled out the paper.
He read it slowly.
When he reached the signature, he stopped.
“What is this?””
“I don't know.””
He turned the page over.
Nothing.
“Who requested the paternity test?””
“I don't know.””
“Have you ever signed anything at the hospital?””
“Consent forms. Insurance forms. Standard stuff.””
“Could someone have used your information?””
“I don't know.””
Dad leaned back.
“Where did this come from?””
“Email.””
“From whom?””
“Unknown sender.””
He rubbed his forehead.
“That's not enough.””
“I know.””
My phone buzzed.
Another message.
*You need to find the original file. Not the copy.*
Dad read it over my shoulder.
“Who sent that?””
“I don't know.””
Another message appeared.
*Carter's office. Bottom drawer. Blue folder.*
Dad stood.
“You're not going there alone.””
“I wasn't planning to.””
He grabbed his jacket.
At 11:47, we drove to Arlington.
Carter's office occupied the top two floors of a glass building overlooking the Potomac. I'd been there dozens of times.
I'd always hated how quiet it was.
The lobby smelled like polished stone and expensive coffee.
A receptionist looked up.
Her eyes widened when she saw me.
“Mara?””
“Hi, Natalie.””
She glanced at my father.
“Is everything okay?””
“No,” I said.
Natalie's face tightened.
“Carter isn't here.””
“I know.””
She looked around.
“Then why did you come?””
“I need something from his office.””
She hesitated.
Dad stepped forward.
“My daughter is his wife. She has every right to retrieve her belongings.””
Natalie looked at me.
“Not here.””
“What?””
“Not in the lobby.””
She led us into a small conference room.
Once the door closed, she locked it.
My heart began racing.
“You called me last night,” I said.
Natalie nodded.
“I shouldn't have.””
“But you did.””
“I was scared.””
“Of Carter?””
She looked down.
“Of what his family can do.””
Dad sat beside me.
“What is in that file?””
Natalie took a breath.
“Before I answer, I need to know something.””
“What?””
“Did Carter tell you about the night at St. Mary's?””
I frowned.
“No.””
Natalie stared at me.
“Then he lied.””
“About what?””
She pulled a flash drive from her pocket.
“This is everything I could copy.””
I reached for it.
She pulled her hand back.
“You can't open it here.””
“Why?””
“Because the system tracks access.””
Dad looked at her.
“Then why bring it?””
“Because if I disappear from the firm tomorrow, someone needs to know where to look.””
My stomach tightened.
“Natalie, what happened?””
She whispered, “Carter's family didn't hire a lawyer to prepare your divorce.””
“What?””
“They hired one to prepare for a custody fight.””
I felt my throat close.
“Why?””
Natalie looked directly at me.
“Because they believe your baby belongs to someone else.””
“I already told you. That's impossible.””
“I know.””
“Then what are they trying to prove?””
Natalie swallowed.
“That you're lying.””
I stood.
“I am not lying.””
“I believe you.””
“Then help me.””
She nodded.
“That's what I'm trying to do.””
She finally handed me the flash drive.
“The blue folder is in Carter's office.””
“How do I get in?””
Natalie reached into her purse.
She placed a keycard on the table.
“His old access card.””
Dad stared at it.
“You stole that?””
“I copied it.””
“You could lose your job.””
Natalie gave a small, bitter smile.
“I think I've already lost it.””
We entered Carter's office through a side corridor.
Natalie stayed outside.
Dad stood near the door.
I opened the bottom drawer.
Nothing.
I checked the second drawer.
Nothing.
“It's not here,” I whispered.
Dad looked around.
“Search again.””
I crouched.
My hand ran along the underside of the desk.
Then I felt tape.
I froze.
“What?””
I reached underneath.
A thin blue folder was taped beneath the desk.
I pulled it free.
My name was written across the front.
*MARA HAYES WHITMORE.*
My fingers went cold.
I opened it.
The first page was a photograph.
It showed me entering St. Mary's Hospital seven months earlier.
I recognized the date.
The night I found out I was pregnant.
The next page was a medical report.
Then another.
Then another.
I turned each page faster.
At the bottom of the final document was a name.
*DR. BENJAMIN CROSS.*
My father leaned over.
“Do you know him?””
I shook my head.
“No.””
Dad picked up the document.
“He signed the original paternity request.””
“Why would a doctor I've never met request a test?””
The office door suddenly opened.
Natalie stood there.
Her face was white.
“Mara.””
“What?””
“You need to leave.””
“Why?””
She looked down the hallway.
“Because Carter is coming.””
My father grabbed my arm.
But before we could move, footsteps approached.
Carter's voice echoed from outside.
“Where is she?””
Natalie looked at me.
Then whispered, “There's another name on that file.””
“What name?””
She pointed to the last page.
I looked.
Under Dr. Cross's signature was a second handwritten name.
One I recognized instantly.
May you like
My mother's.
And my mother had been dead for eleven years.
