Chapter 4 - The Woman in the Yellow Coat
They spent the night in a motel beside the interstate because Eli refused to return to Ruth’s house.
“If someone entered once, they can enter again,” he said.
Ruth sat on the edge of the bed while he examined the door, the window, and the smoke detector. “You’re not a detective.”
“No. I’m a forensic systems analyst.”
“That sounds like a detective who works indoors.”
“It means I know how people hide evidence.”
The motel room had two beds, one lamp, and a television murmuring through a wall. Eli placed Daniel’s bundle on the table between them.
“The key marked eleven,” he said. “Could be a locker.”
“At the hospital.”
“Or at Morrow House.”
“Daniel said the ledger was a map.”
“And Nurse Bell saw everything.”
Ruth took out her phone and searched the city’s old employee directories. She found three nurses named Bell who had worked at St. Orison. Two had died. The third, Iris Bell, had left nursing in 1983 and disappeared from public records.
“That’s our woman,” Eli said.
“How do you know?”
“Because people who leave ordinary jobs leave paperwork. People who disappear are usually helped.”
He made a call.
“Who are you calling?”
“A former colleague.”
“You have colleagues in Bellweather?”
“I have colleagues everywhere.”
Ruth watched him speak in low tones, then end the call.
“Iris Bell lives in a town called Fairmont,” he said. “She owns a greenhouse.”
“How soon can we see her?”
“She agreed to meet us at sunrise.”
They drove through misty farmland the next morning. Iris Bell’s greenhouse stood behind a white farmhouse, its windows glowing with pale green light. An elderly woman in a yellow raincoat waited by the gate.
Ruth knew her before she saw the face.
“You remember the coat,” Iris said.
Her hair was silver and cropped close to her head. She walked with a cane but carried herself like a person accustomed to standing through emergencies.
“Daniel made a recording,” Ruth said.
“I know.”
Eli looked at Ruth. “How could she know?”
Iris unlocked the gate. “Because I sent the copy.”
Inside the greenhouse, rows of herbs and winter flowers filled the damp air with scent.
“You sent the envelope?” Ruth asked.
“I sent the thread. The copy came from a source I no longer control.”
“Morrow House?”
“Morrow House is only the newest name.”
Iris led them to a bench beneath hanging ferns. “In 1981, St. Orison had a private program called the Mercy Transfer. Babies born to poor mothers, undocumented mothers, women who were sick or frightened, were declared medically unstable. The hospital arranged private placements before the mothers understood what had happened.”
Ruth felt the greenhouse tilt around her.
“That happened to eleven infants during the fire,” Iris continued. “The fire was set to destroy the transfer ledger.”
“Who set it?” Eli asked.
“A man named Victor Vail.”
Nico’s father.
“Daniel found the ledger before the fire,” Iris said. “He copied several pages. When Victor discovered him, he threatened to take your son.”
Ruth’s voice broke. “Why would he threaten Eli?”
“Because Daniel had already hidden the boy.”
Eli stood. “What does that mean?”
Iris looked at Ruth. “Tell him.”
Ruth had imagined this moment as a confession made in a quiet room. Not beside trays of rosemary and wet glass, with her son standing over her like a judge.
“The night of the fire,” she said, “I signed a release form.”
Eli’s face emptied.
“You signed it?”
“Yes.”
“For me?”
“To move you out of the hospital.”
“The ledger says relinquished.”
“The form said emergency release to maternal guardian. Daniel changed the page after the fire because Victor had access to the records.”
“You let him change my record?”
“I let your father do whatever he believed would keep you alive.”
Iris placed a hand on her cane. “Ruth was unconscious when Daniel brought the form. He guided her hand to the signature line because the nurses were watching. The original page said she claimed you. Victor replaced it with the abandonment entry.”
Eli’s anger wavered, but did not disappear. “Why didn’t either of you tell me?”
“Because Victor promised he could still find you,” Iris said. “Daniel thought silence would keep them from looking. He was wrong about many things.”
“Where is the original?”
Iris looked toward the greenhouse door.
A black SUV had stopped outside the gate.
“We have company,” she said.
Two men stepped from the vehicle. One wore a Morrow House security jacket.
Iris reached beneath the bench and produced a metal case. “The ledger is not at the hospital. It is under it.”
She handed Ruth the case.
“Go through the back,” Iris said. “There’s an old irrigation road.”
“What about you?” Ruth asked.
Iris smiled without warmth. “I’ve survived worse men than Nico Vail.”
May you like
Eli pulled Ruth toward the rear exit.
As they ran through the greenhouse, Iris shouted behind them, “The number eleven is not a locker! It is a room!”
