Chapter 8 - THE EMPTY ROOM
“Residential care?” Elena repeated.
Nora held up a hand.
“We know what the application says. We don’t know what they planned yet.”
Elena hated the carefulness.
She needed the truth to move faster.
Detective Ortiz took the new records. Nora began tracing the company through public filings and documents the lender had supplied.
Meanwhile, Rosa went back to collect Elena’s clothes with an arranged escort.
Elena gave her a short list.
Loose sweaters.
The blue pajamas.
Her mother’s photograph from the dresser.
“And the baby blanket in the nursery,” she said. “The yellow one.”
Rosa went quiet.
“What?”
“Nothing. I’ll get it.”
But forty minutes later, she called from outside the house.
“Elena.”
“What happened?”
“The nursery is empty.”
Elena sat very still.
“The crib?”
“Gone.”
“The rocking chair?”
“Gone.”
She had spent weeks painting little green leaves around the window.
Julian had complained about the smell.
Now even the curtains were gone.
“There are boxes in there,” Rosa continued. “Miss Davenport’s clothes.”
Elena pressed her hand over her mouth.
Nora took the phone.
“Photographs, if you can obtain them without entering any restricted area. Then leave.”
Gabriel’s face went gray.
“I’ll replace everything.”
Elena shook her head.
“That isn’t the point.”
“I know.”
“No. You don’t.”
Her voice cracked.
“I kept thinking he might love the baby even if he didn’t love me.”
Nobody tried to fix that sentence.
That was the kindest thing they could have done.
Later, Maya sent a message.
My boss says the party deposit came from a company account. I thought your lawyer should know.
Attached was an invoice.
Vance Family Wellness Initiative.
Elena recognized that name.
Julian had asked her to sign paperwork for it eight months earlier.
“A charity,” he had said. “For struggling mothers.”
She had donated money from her trust.
Nora read the invoice, then opened another file.
“The company operating Bell Residential Care received funds from the same initiative.”
Elena looked toward the door.
Julian had used money meant for vulnerable mothers to help build a story that his own pregnant wife was unstable.
Her phone lit up.
A photograph from an unknown number.
Her empty nursery.
Beneath it, one sentence.
You should have stayed on your knees.
Elena handed the phone to Nora.
“Give that to the detective too.”
May you like
Then a second message arrived.
You have until Friday to sign.
