Chapter 2 - The Blue Hospital BlanketThe newborn survived.
At the hospital, his temperature was dangerously low but treatable. He weighed six pounds, four ounces and appeared to have been born less than twelve hours earlier.
I sat with Talia in a family consultation room while detectives questioned Daniel elsewhere.
Talia had stopped talking.
She held my hand with both of hers.
A pediatric nurse brought her hot chocolate.
She did not touch it.
“Is the baby going to die?” she finally asked.
“No.”
I hoped I sounded more certain than I felt.
“He's with doctors.”
“Because I found him?”
“Yes.”
Her eyes lowered.
“What if I'd slept longer?”
The question broke my heart.
I pulled her into my arms.
“You didn't.”
“But what if?”
“Talia.”
I made her look at me.
“You found him. You brought him to me. That's what happened.”
She nodded.
Then:
“Is Daddy going to jail?”
I could not lie.
“I don't know.”
Detective Maya Brooks entered about twenty minutes later.
She was in her forties, practical, calm and careful around Talia.
“Mrs. Collins, I'd like to speak with you privately if that's all right.”
“No.”
Maya paused.
I explained:
“My daughter has been separated from me enough today. You can say whatever you need to say in front of her unless it's inappropriate.”
Maya considered.
Then sat.
“Your husband has changed his account.”
I felt cold.
“What was the first account?”
“That he knew nothing about the infant.”
“And now?”
“He says he discovered the baby inside his truck this morning.”
Talia immediately shook her head.
“He was lying.”
Maya turned gently.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because he carried the baby from the truck.”
“That part matches what he's saying.”
“No.”
Talia frowned.
“He didn't look surprised.”
Maya waited.
“Did he say anything?”
Talia repeated:
“‘Mom, I can't do this.’”
Maya wrote it down.
Daniel's new story was that he drove into town shortly after six to buy fuel.
When he returned, he allegedly discovered the infant wrapped in the blue blanket on the passenger-side floor.
He panicked.
Instead of calling emergency services, he placed the baby behind the barn because he believed someone would discover him quickly.
I stared.
“He expects anyone to believe that?”
Maya did not answer.
“Why would he move a freezing newborn farther from help?”
“That is one of several questions.”
“What does Cora say?”
Maya looked at me.
“She claims she knows nothing.”
“She asked Daniel where ‘he’ was.”
“We're aware.”
Of course they were.
A deputy had heard it too.
The blue blanket provided the first physical lead.
A hospital laundry code was stitched into the corner.
SJH-MAT-4.
Saint Joseph's Hospital.
Thirty-eight miles away.
Maya's team contacted maternity services.
No infant was officially missing.
But one patient was.
Anna Reyes.
Twenty-six years old.
Admitted the previous evening in labor.
Delivered a healthy baby boy at 2:41 a.m.
At 5:10, according to hospital records, both mother and infant were discharged against medical advice.
Except the nurse who supposedly signed the discharge form was not working that night.
I stared at Maya.
“Who is Anna Reyes?”
She studied me.
“You don't recognize the name?”
“No.”
That was when Talia spoke.
“I do.”
My head snapped around.
“From where?”
“Daddy's phone.”
I felt my heartbeat in my throat.
“What?”
“One time you were at Grandma's. Daddy was sleeping on the couch and his phone kept lighting up.”
“How long ago?”
Talia shrugged.
“Before school started.”
Three months.
“What did it say?”
“I don't remember.”
“Was it Anna?”
She nodded.
“I think so.”
Maya asked:
“Did you open the phone?”
“No. Daddy said touching people's phones was rude.”
The bitter irony nearly made me laugh.
After Maya left, I searched my own memory.
Anna.
Then it came.
Last spring, we had hired temporary help to reorganize the farm office after our longtime bookkeeper retired.
A young woman.
Dark hair.
Quiet.
Excellent with numbers.
I had met her twice.
Anna Reyes.
She worked for us for six weeks.
Daniel told me she left for another position.
My hands began trembling.
I took out my phone.
Anna's name still existed in an old group email.
I opened the staff records.
Emergency contact blank.
Address in Millstone County.
Then an email thread.
Daniel and Anna.
Mostly work.
Invoices.
Payroll.
Fuel costs.
Then, near the end:
Anna: Can we talk privately?
Daniel: Not here.
Anna: You keep saying that.
My mouth went dry.
I kept scrolling.
Another:
Daniel: Please don't contact Claire.
I stopped breathing.
Talia saw my face.
“Mom?”
I locked the phone.
“It's okay.”
But it wasn't.
Nothing was okay.
That afternoon a social worker informed us the baby would temporarily enter protective medical custody while authorities searched for his mother.
Before she left, she asked:
“Would you like to see him?”
I hesitated.
Then nodded.
He lay beneath a warming lamp.
His color had improved.
Tiny dark hair.
Small nose.
One fist beside his cheek.
There was something familiar about him.
I hated myself for noticing.
The nurse said:
“He's doing remarkably well.”
I touched one tiny foot.
His toes curled.
Talia stood beside me.
“He needs a name.”
The nurse smiled.
“We've been calling him Baby Reyes.”
Talia frowned.
“That sounds like paperwork.”
Despite everything, I almost laughed.
Then Detective Maya entered.
Her expression told me something had changed.
“We received preliminary phone records.”
I looked at her.
“Daniel called Anna eleven times yesterday.”
My knees weakened.
Maya continued:
“And Anna called Cora Collins six times.”
Talia reached for my hand.
The nurse quietly moved away.
I looked through the glass at the newborn.
Then asked the question I was terrified to hear answered.
“Do you think Daniel is his father?”
Maya did not speculate.
She did not need to.
Because suddenly I understood why my husband had not looked shocked when he saw the baby in my arms.
May you like
He wasn't meeting a stranger.
He was watching a secret come back into the house.
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