Chapter 9
Peter Lang was caught in a motel outside Cleveland.
He had cash in the ceiling tiles, a fake ID in his shoe, and Caroline’s burner phone number written on the inside of a matchbook.
Men like Peter thought themselves brilliant.
Fear made him ordinary.
He talked within two hours.
Not because he was sorry.
Because Dr. Voss had disappeared with the offshore money and left Peter to carry the prison time.
Harris allowed me to hear part of the confession later.
Peter admitted the crash had been staged.
He admitted Caroline knew Claire before the accident.
He admitted Caroline had wanted me since college.
He admitted she saw Claire as the one person who had taken the life she deserved.
Then came the part that made me grip the table until my knuckles ached.
Caroline had stolen Lily from the clinic herself.
She had signed the stillbirth paperwork.
She had placed my newborn daughter in my arms three weeks later and told me she had given birth early while I was still confused from medication.
I had believed her.
I had held Lily and cried.
Caroline had turned my love into evidence of her lie.
When I told Claire, she went upstairs without a word.
I found her in Lily’s room.
Lily was asleep.
Claire sat on the floor beside the bed, sobbing silently into her hands.
“I felt her,” she whispered. “After they took her, my body still looked for her.”
I sat beside her.
“I am so sorry.”
“I thought I had buried a baby.”
“She’s here.”
Claire looked at Lily.
“Yes.”
She reached up slowly, not touching, only hovering near our daughter’s hair.
“I don’t want her to feel stolen again.”
“She won’t.”
“You can’t promise.”
“No,” I said. “But we can choose differently every day.”
Claire leaned her head against the bed frame.
“Every day sounds hard.”
“It is.”
May you like
She closed her eyes.
“Then start tomorrow.”
