Chapter 7: The Woman Down the Hall
I asked Camille to take me to her.
"You had a C-section four hours ago," Camille said.
"I know."
"You should not be walking."
"I know that too."
She brought a wheelchair without further argument.
Dara Wills was in Room 9.
Her baby — a girl she had named Petra — was in her arms when we came in.
Dara looked up, and I saw her take me in: the hospital bracelet, the wheelchair, the careful way I was holding myself.
She knew who I was.
"I'm Sarah," I said.
"I know." Her voice was quiet.
She had dark circles under her eyes and a stillness about her that looked like someone who had been frightened and then relieved and then frightened again, all within the same morning.
"They told me what happened.
Most of it."
"I'm sorry," I said.
"I'm sorry you went through that."
She shook her head slightly.
"Your husband thought he was doing something good.
I understand that.
I don't — " She stopped.
"I don't think he's a bad man.
I think he made a terrible decision."
"He did."
She looked down at Petra.
"They told me about Marcus."
I went still.
"They told you his name?"
"One of the officers did.
He asked if I knew him." She paused.
"I knew him as someone else.
For about two months, two years ago." Her jaw tightened.
"I didn't know Petra was his until they said it just now."
The weight of that settled between us.
"He has a pattern," I said.
"Yes.
They told me that too." She looked up.
"How many?"
"I don't know yet."
She nodded slowly.
Petra made a small sound and Dara adjusted her without looking down, the automatic gesture of someone already learning.
"What happens now?" Dara asked.
"He'll try to file for paternity," I said.
"That's what Luke told me.
He does it the day they're born."
Dara's face changed.
"Then he may have already filed."
I hadn't thought of that.
The timeline — June born, Code Pink, lockdown — it had consumed everything.
But Marcus Hale wouldn't have known about the Code Pink.
He would have been watching for a birth announcement, a record, a filing.
"I need to make a phone call," I said.
Camille was already handing me my phone.
I called my sister's husband, Robert, who was a family attorney.
He picked up on the second ring.
"Robert," I said.
"I need you to check if a paternity filing has been made in the last six hours.
The name is Marcus Hale.
My daughter's name is June Harmon."
A pause.
"Sarah, what's going on?"
"I'll explain everything.
Please just check."
I heard him typing.
The silence lasted long enough that Dara looked at me.
Then Robert said: "Sarah.
There's a filing.
It was submitted at 11:47 this morning."
June had been born at 11:09.
Thirty-eight minutes.
He had filed thirty-eight minutes after she entered the world.
"He knew the exact time," I said.
"It looks that way," Robert said carefully.
"Sarah, who is this man?"
I looked at Dara across the room.
She had heard enough from my expression.
May you like
"Someone who planned this a long time ago," I said.
"And I need you to help me stop him."
