Chapter 8
Nora refused to talk.
Dr. Marcus Vale disappeared.
Nora’s father claimed ignorance.
My father was dead, but his files were not.
Grace obtained emergency court orders freezing every property transfer.
The vineyard was sealed.
Lily was moved to a protected pediatric unit.
When I told her we found Mommy’s room, she stared at me.
“Was she there?”
“Not now.”
Lily looked down.
“Nora said Mommy was bad.”
“She lied.”
“Mommy sang nice.”
“I know.”
I played only a short piece of Amelia’s recording for her after the therapist agreed.
When Amelia said Lily, my little star, my daughter sobbed so hard she could not speak.
I held her.
I had missed every nightmare.
Every fever.
Every birthday.
But I was there for that grief.
Late.
But there.
Detective Harris found Dr. Vale two days later at a private clinic outside Portland.
He had cash.
Fake IDs.
A patient transfer form.
The patient name was Anna Wells.
But the photo attached was Amelia.
Alive.
My knees nearly failed.
Harris called me personally.
“We found her trail.”
“Where?”
“A private neurological facility in Montana.”
I booked a flight before she finished.
Grace stopped me at the airport.
“Victor, police go first.”
“That is my wife.”
“And if you rush in, Nora’s people may move her again.”
I hated that she was right.
So I waited.
Six hours.
Ten.
Fourteen.
Then Harris called.
Her voice shook.
“We found Amelia.”
I gripped the phone.
“Alive?”
A pause.
May you like
“Yes.”
I sank to the airport floor.
