Chapter 9 - The Woman Without a Name
Mara’s warrant reached St. Catherine’s the next morning.
The institute resisted.
Patient privacy.
Incomplete archives.
Corporate restructuring.
Mara pushed harder.
Finally, they found a restricted admission under the name ANNA REED.
No photograph.
No Social Security number.
No insurance.
Bills paid through a legal trust.
Trust administrator:
Bell & Reeves LLP.
Richard stared at the document.
“Martin’s firm.”
Martin Reeves nearly collapsed when confronted.
“I didn’t know.”
Mara watched him carefully.
“The trust used your firm.”
“Thomas controlled private-client structures.”
“You never audited him?”
“He was my partner for thirty years.”
Richard laughed bitterly.
That excuse had become the theme of his life.
I trusted him.
Martin opened old accounting servers.
They found monthly payments to St. Catherine’s for nineteen months.
Then they stopped.
“When?” Richard asked.
Martin read the date.
“Three months ago.”
Richard’s pulse accelerated.
Three months ago was when Vanessa’s abuse of Sophie was exposed.
Coincidence no longer existed in Richard’s world.
“Why did payments stop?”
“The account closed.”
“Where did the remaining money go?”
Martin traced it.
“Another medical trust.”
“Where?”
“Maine.”
Mara looked at Richard.
“Don’t get ahead of this.”
He already had.
The Maine facility was called North Harbor Recovery House.
It overlooked the Atlantic near Bar Harbor.
Richard and Mara arrived under gray skies.
The director met them in a quiet office.
Richard placed Amelia’s photograph on the desk.
“Was this woman here?”
The director looked at Mara’s warrant.
Then at the photograph.
“Yes.”
Richard forgot how to breathe.
“Is she alive?”
The director’s expression changed.
“I believe so.”
Richard gripped the chair.
“Believe?”
“She left.”
“When?”
“Eleven weeks ago.”
“With who?”
“Alone.”
“Where?”
“We don’t know.”
Richard felt anger rising.
“You allowed a brain-injury patient to disappear?”
“She was not incapacitated.”
“What condition was she in?”
“Physically recovered.”
“Memory?”
The director hesitated.
“Fragmented.”
“Did she know her name?”
“Eventually.”
Richard leaned closer.
“What name did she give?”
The director looked directly at him.
“Amelia Hale.”
Richard closed his eyes.
For one moment he was back in the bedroom they had shared.
Amelia laughing because he could never find his keys.
Amelia barefoot in the garden.
Amelia holding newborn Sophie.
Alive.
She had been alive.
For nearly two years.
“Why didn’t anyone call me?”
The director’s expression grew guarded.
“Mrs. Hale did not want you contacted.”
That hurt more than Richard expected.
“Why?”
“She believed you might be involved.”
Richard stared.
“Involved in what?”
“Her accident.”
Mara watched him.
Richard felt sick.
“What made her believe that?”
“She had been shown documents.”
“What documents?”
“Financial authorizations.”
Richard understood immediately.
His forged signature.
The trust papers.
The vehicle disposal authorization.
Someone had spent two years constructing a world in which Amelia believed Richard had betrayed her.
“Who visited her?”
“Very few people.”
“Names.”
“Thomas Bell.”
Of course.
“And?”
The director hesitated.
“One woman.”
“Vanessa?”
“No.”
Richard frowned.
“Who?”
The director opened a visitor log.
The signature read:
MARGARET VALE.
Richard did not recognize the name.
Mara photographed it.
“Anything else?”
“Yes.”
The director opened a drawer.
“Mrs. Hale left this in her room.”
A small envelope.
Richard’s name on it.
His hands shook as he opened it.
Inside was a single page.
Richard,
If Thomas is telling the truth, then I was wrong about everything.
If he is lying, then you may be in danger too.
I need to know which before I let Sophie see me.
There is one person who can prove it.
Find Margaret.
Richard looked at Mara.
“Who the hell is Margaret Vale?”
Mara’s phone buzzed.
She checked the screen.
Her face changed.
“We just got a hit.”
“What?”
“Margaret Vale entered the United States yesterday.”
“From where?”
“Switzerland.”
Richard’s pulse quickened.
“Where is she now?”
Mara looked at him.
“New York.”
Then another message arrived.
Mara read it twice.
“What?”
“She checked into a hotel under her own name.”
“Which hotel?”
“The Hale Meridian Grand.”
Richard stared.
His own hotel.
Mara continued.
“And she requested one meeting.”
“With who?”
May you like
Mara turned the screen.
SOPHIE HALE.
