Chapter 4 - A Name Buried Twice
Daniel refused to go to the old house alone. Detective Sloan advised against going at all, but Lenora knew the police were listening, and she knew exactly how to pull Daniel toward the place he had spent his life avoiding.
The Voss house stood outside town behind a row of dying apple trees. Lenora had moved there after Daniel’s father died, and she still owned the property despite spending most of her time in the city. The house had narrow windows, peeling white paint, and a porch that sagged toward the road. Daniel parked beside the mailbox but did not get out.
“I remember a red bicycle,” he said.
“Rebecca’s?”
He nodded. “She had one with a white basket. My mother said it disappeared the week Rebecca died.”
Detective Sloan and two officers searched the house while Daniel, Elise’s phone, and I waited in the entryway. Lenora was not there. Her car sat behind the barn, but the front door was unlocked and the rooms looked abandoned except for a fresh trail of mud across the kitchen floor.
The old house smelled of dust, cedar, and something medicinal. On the dining table lay a folder bearing the logo of St. Agnes Hospital. Daniel opened it with shaking fingers.
Inside were photocopies of birth certificates, adoption papers, and medical forms. One document listed a female infant born twenty-six years earlier. The mother was Lenora Voss. The child’s name was Rebecca Anne Voss.
The next document was a surrender agreement.
The reason for surrender read: Maternal instability and unsafe attachment behaviors.
Daniel read the sentence twice. “She said Rebecca died.”
Sloan took the document from him. “This is not a death certificate. It’s a temporary placement order.”
Another page had been added recently. It was a copy of an adult adoption petition filed under the name Rebecca Anne Vale. The petitioner’s address was in a town three hours away.
“Vale?” I asked.
“That’s not our family name,” Daniel said.
“It’s mine,” I replied.
The room went quiet.
Someone had used my last name when filing the petition. Someone wanted the records to appear connected to me.
My phone buzzed. A text came from an unknown number.
Stop opening doors that were closed to protect you.
I showed it to Sloan. She ordered the officers to sweep the upstairs rooms again.
In a bedroom that had been locked from the outside, they found a canvas laundry bag. The same kind Lenora had carried into Daniel’s house. Inside were a baby blanket, a bottle with a trace of liquid, and three printed photographs of Owen sleeping in the hospital nursery.
Daniel made a strangled sound.
“She took pictures of him before today,” he said.
The photographs had timestamps from two days earlier. Lenora had been at the hospital then, claiming she was visiting a friend. She had entered the maternity ward using a visitor badge registered to someone named June Merritt.
“Who is June Merritt?” Sloan asked.
Daniel shook his head. “I don’t know.”
The officers found a second phone beneath the floorboards. It was an older model with no passcode. The call history contained one repeated number. Sloan traced it to a private family-services agency called Safe Harbor Placements.
“That agency handled Rebecca’s temporary placement,” she said.
Daniel stared at the phone. “Why would my mother still be calling them?”
The answer waited in a voicemail recorded that morning.
Lenora’s voice spoke softly, almost tenderly.
“The boy is healthy. The mother is unstable. The aunt is violent. We can still correct the paperwork before the hearing.”
I felt cold spread beneath my skin.
“What hearing?” I asked.
Sloan turned to Daniel. “Did anyone mention a custody hearing?”
He shook his head.
His own phone rang. A woman from county family services introduced herself and asked if he was Daniel Voss, father of Owen Voss. When he confirmed it, she told him a petition for emergency protective custody had been filed against him and Elise.
“Who filed it?” he asked.
The woman hesitated. “A relative who claims the child is at immediate risk.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“My mother,” he whispered.
The woman continued, “The hearing is tomorrow morning. And Mr. Voss, there is another problem. The petition says your wife concealed the child’s biological parentage from you.”
At that moment, a floorboard creaked above us.
May you like
We all looked toward the dark staircase.
Someone was still inside the house.
