Chapter 9 - The shadow in the records
Richard stared at the rose gold locket in his massive palm, the metal freezing against his skin. If this locket was here, it meant someone had dug up his wife's grave. Or, far more terrifyingly, he had buried an empty box seven years ago. He immediately called Vance. “Tear this alley apart,” Richard commanded. “Find out who was living in this specific spot. Talk to every homeless person within a five-mile radius. I want a name, and I want it an hour ago.”
By the time the sun began to rise over the snowy city, Vance was standing in Richard’s office with a worn, leather-bound notebook. “We found her, boss,” Vance said quietly, his rugged face incredibly serious. “The woman who lived in the alley wasn't a beggar. We found an old, expired hospital ID badge tucked inside the lining of the cardboard box. Her name was Clara Higgins. She was a neonatal nurse. She was on duty the exact night your wife died.”
Richard took the notebook. His hands were shaking. “Where is she now?”
“She passed away from pneumonia three days ago,” Vance replied softly. “The local shelter took her body. That’s why Lucy was alone on the street. Clara kept a journal.”
Richard opened the frayed leather cover. The handwriting was neat, meticulous, the notes of a trained medical professional. He scanned the pages, detailing Lucy’s growth, her fevers, the times they had to move constantly to avoid being spotted by anyone connected to the Sterling family. Clara had intercepted the ambulance driver, realized what he was about to do, and took the baby to protect her. But then Richard turned to the very first page of the journal, written on the night of the tragedy.
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'I promised Sarah I would keep her baby safe. I promised I would hide the child until Edward stopped looking. She gave me her locket to prove to the girl that she was loved. I hope the little girl finds her father one day. I cannot run forever.'
Richard stopped reading. His blood ran absolute cold. He stared at the words, his brilliant, calculating mind struggling to comprehend the massive, impossible implication. Clara hadn't stolen the locket from a corpse. She was explicitly given it by the mother. If the nurse had spoken directly to Sarah to make a promise, it meant the woman he loved had survived the traumatic birth.
