Chapter 9
My breath caught.
An unauthorized transfer?
One of my babies?
I looked at Margaret.
“What does this mean?”
She began shaking her head.
“I don't know.”
“Margaret!”
“I swear, Kesha.
Robert never explained it to me.”
Daniel took the letter from my trembling hands.
His eyes widened.
“What transfer?”
I remembered the neonatal unit.
The exhaustion.
The endless paperwork.
The doctors who moved quickly between rooms.
I remembered waking from surgery and being told that all four babies were alive.
I remembered the weeks that followed.
And then something surfaced from the deepest part of my memory.
A nurse.
A young nurse with red hair.
Standing beside Olivia's incubator.
Whispering to another nurse:
There was a problem with the authorization.
Don't let anyone take her without the attending physician.
At the time, I had been too weak and frightened to understand.
Now the memory struck like lightning.
Someone had tried to remove one of my babies from the hospital.
And the Reynolds family had known something about it.
## THE MAN WHO DISAPPEARED DURING CHRISTMAS DINNER
I closed the folder.
“We need to speak with Charles Whitcomb.”
Daniel nodded.
“Agreed.”
We returned to the main hall.
The celebration had resumed in fragments.
Guests stood in small groups, whispering over drinks.
The string quartet had stopped playing.
Near the Christmas tree, Lena sat with my children, helping Olivia open a small wrapped chocolate.
Seeing them safe steadied me.
I crossed the room.
“Lena.”
She stood immediately.
“Commander?”
“Stay with the children.”
Her eyes sharpened.
“Is something wrong?”
“Yes.”
She didn't ask for details.
She simply nodded.
I turned toward Daniel.
“Where's Whitcomb?”
Daniel scanned the room.
He approached a retired brigadier general standing near the fireplace.
“Sir, have you seen Charles?”
The man frowned.
“He was here a few minutes ago.”
“Where did he go?”
“Said he needed to make a phone call.”
Daniel looked toward the front entrance.
The doors were open.
Cold air swept into the hall.
Outside, headlights flashed across the snowy driveway.
A black SUV was moving toward the gates.
Rebecca rushed to the window.
“That's Charles's vehicle.”
Daniel cursed under his breath.
I pulled out my personal phone.
I wasn't going to use departmental authority to pursue a man based on an old family letter.
But I could preserve what we had found, contact appropriate civilian authorities, and ensure the documents weren't destroyed.
I photographed the letter and its envelope with Margaret's permission, then asked everyone to stop handling the original records.