Chapter 8: The Third Baby
The words followed me all the way back to Dallas.
Three babies.
One had disappeared.
I kept replaying Sarah's statement, trying to make sense of it. I'd spent years believing our family began with the birth of Noah and Liam. Now every document suggested that someone had deliberately rewritten their history.
I couldn't stop thinking about the missing child.
Who was the baby?
Was it related to Sarah?
Was it connected to the donor records?
And why had everyone worked so hard to keep the truth hidden?
I dropped the twins off with a temporary caregiver approved by my attorney, then drove to my office. I needed a place where I could think without looking at their faces and wondering which parts of their lives had been stolen from them.
Daniel arrived twenty minutes later carrying a thick envelope.
"I found the original consent forms," he said.
He spread the papers across my conference table.
Several pages were faded photocopies. Others had been scanned from an electronic archive. Some bore the clinic's old logo, while others carried the stamp of Methodist Dallas.
Daniel pointed to a document near the top.
"This is the embryo transfer authorization. Sarah signed it before the procedure.""
I read the page.
It listed two embryos, one intended for implantation and one held in reserve.
"Where does the third baby come from?""
"That's what I wanted to understand. The clinic's records mention a third embryo, but it's marked as nonviable.""
"Then why would a nurse say there were three babies?""
Daniel opened another folder.
"Because a neonatal nurse filed an incident report after the transfer.""
The report was dated three days before the twins were supposedly born.
It described three newborns delivered at the private facility. Two were identified as male. The third infant's sex was listed as female.
I stared at the page.
"Sarah was told she had twins.""
"Yes.""
"Then who was the third baby?""
"The report doesn't say.""
I read further.
The third infant had been transferred to a different unit for observation. The next entry showed the child being discharged to an unidentified guardian.
No guardian's name was recorded.
The line for the receiving hospital was blank.
I looked up.
"Someone removed a newborn from the clinic without recording where the child went.""
"That's what the report suggests.""
"Was there a death certificate?""
"None that I've found.""
I pushed back from the table.
"Then we need the nurse.""
Daniel nodded.
"I've been trying to locate her. Her name is Angela Morris. She left the clinic shortly after the incident.""
"Where is she now?""
"Unknown. Her last known address is in Arlington.""
"Let's go.""
Daniel hesitated.
"James, I think we should contact the police before approaching her. If the report is authentic, this could involve child trafficking or falsified adoption records.""
"Then call them. I'm not waiting another day.""
We spent the next hour speaking with my attorney and providing the documents we'd found. He contacted investigators and arranged for the original files to be preserved.
By late afternoon, we had permission to visit Angela Morris with a detective.
Her last known address led us to a small apartment building near a busy road. The paint on the exterior was peeling, and a row of potted plants lined the stairwell.
A woman in her sixties answered the door.
Her hair was silver, her shoulders narrow, and her expression wary.
When Daniel introduced himself, she immediately tried to close the door.
"I don't know anything about that clinic.""
The detective held up his identification.
"Ms. Morris, we're investigating possible falsification of medical records. We would like to ask you a few questions.""
She stared at him.
Then she looked at me.
"You're James Cole.""
I nodded.
Her face changed.
"You have the boys?""
"They're safe.""
She closed her eyes briefly.
"Thank God.""
My pulse quickened.
"You know what happened to them?""
She opened the door wider.
"Come inside.""
The apartment was small and tidy. A television murmured in the corner, and a pot of tea sat on the kitchen counter.
Angela sat down slowly.
"I've wanted to tell someone for years," she said.
"But the clinic had lawyers, and Dr. Reed threatened to destroy my career.""
"What happened to the third baby?"" I asked.
Her hands began to shake.
"The third baby was a girl.""
"Who was her mother?""
Angela looked down.
"Sarah Whitmore.""
I felt the room tilt.
"Sarah gave birth to three babies?""
"Yes.""
"Why was she told she had twins?""
Angela pressed her fingers together.
"Because the clinic had made a mistake during the embryo transfer. The records showed two embryos, but a third embryo had been transferred during a separate procedure. The clinic was terrified of the consequences.""
I struggled to understand.
"Are you saying there were three embryos?""
"Yes. Sarah underwent two procedures under the same treatment plan. One embryo was transferred during the first procedure.
Two were transferred during the second. The records were supposed to be reviewed before the birth, but Dr. Reed ordered the files sealed.""
"Why?""
"Because the third embryo had been created using a different donor sample.""
I thought of Michael Bennett.
"Was he the donor?""
Angela shook her head.
"I don't know. The donor records were altered. I was only responsible for the newborn unit.""
The detective leaned forward.
"Why wasn't the third child recorded properly?""
Angela looked at him with tears in her eyes.
"Because the child was not supposed to survive.""
Silence filled the room.
I felt my stomach turn.
"What do you mean?""
Angela took a breath.
"The baby was born with serious complications. Dr. Reed said she wouldn't survive the night. He told us to prepare the paperwork for a stillbirth.""
"But she was alive?""
Angela nodded.
"She was breathing. She was small and fragile, but she was alive.""
"Then what happened?""
"Dr. Reed transferred her to another facility. He said a specialist had agreed to take over her care. I later learned the receiving facility had no record of her admission.""
The detective wrote something in his notebook.
"Did you report this?""
"I tried. I contacted the clinic administrator, but he said I was mistaken. When I pushed, Dr. Reed threatened to report me for mishandling medical records.""
She wiped her eyes.
"I was a single mother. I couldn't afford to lose my job or my nursing license.""
I leaned forward.
"Do you know where the baby went?""
Angela shook her head.
"No. But I remember one thing. The person who collected her wore a gold ring with a black stone.""
My heart stopped.
I knew that ring.
My father had worn one for as long as I could remember. A heavy gold band with a black onyx stone, passed down from his own father.
I had seen it on his hand at my wedding.
I had seen it on his hand when he held the twins in the hospital.
I had even seen it in the photograph on his coffin.
I looked at Angela.
"You're certain?""
She nodded.
"I remember because the man kept tapping the ring against the incubator. He was nervous. He asked whether the baby would be able to survive without her mother.""
I could barely speak.
"Did you see his face?""
"No. He wore a surgical mask. But I heard Dr. Reed call him Richard.""
My father's name.
The detective exchanged a look with Daniel.
I sat back, trying to breathe.
My father had arranged for the twins to be transferred to our care. He had concealed the truth from me. And now there was evidence that he had personally collected a third baby from the clinic.
"What happened to her?"" I whispered.
Angela shook her head.
"I don't know.""
She rose and walked to a cabinet near the kitchen. From a drawer, she removed a small envelope.
"I kept this because I couldn't live with myself if I forgot.""
Inside was a hospital identification card bearing a number and a handwritten name.
Baby Girl Whitmore.
Underneath it was a date and the name of a receiving facility.
St. Catherine's Children's Hospital.
I recognized the name.
It was a private pediatric facility in Dallas that had closed six years earlier.
The detective photographed the card.
"Do you know what happened to the records?""
Angela nodded.
"They were transferred to the county archive when the hospital closed.""
Daniel looked at me.
"We can request them.""
I stared at the identification card.
A little girl had been born alongside my sons. Someone had taken her away. Someone had erased her from the records.
And my father might have been the last person to see her alive.
As we prepared to leave, Angela caught my arm.
"There's something else.""
I turned.
"Dr. Reed wasn't the only person who knew about the third baby.""
"Who else?""
She hesitated.
Then she whispered, "Your wife visited the clinic the night the baby was transferred.""
I felt the blood drain from my face.
"Victoria?""
Angela nodded.
"She came with Richard Cole. I remember because she was crying. She asked whether the baby would ever be able to go home.""
I stared at her.
"What did Dr. Reed tell her?""
Angela's voice dropped.
"He told her the baby would be placed with a family that could give her everything she needed.""
I swallowed.
"Did Victoria agree?""
Angela looked at me with sorrowful eyes.
"She signed the transfer papers.""
The detective immediately asked her to clarify.
Angela explained that she had seen Victoria sign a document acknowledging the transfer, though she couldn't say whether it was a legal guardianship agreement or a medical consent form.
I walked out of the apartment in a daze.
The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the parking lot.
Daniel followed me to the car.
"James, we need to be careful. The records could reveal something even worse.""
I stared at him.
"Worse than stealing two babies?""
"Worse than we understand.""
I called my attorney and asked him to request the archive records from St. Catherine's.
Then I called Sarah.
When she answered, I could barely form the words.
"Sarah, there was a third baby.""
Silence.
Then a small, broken sound.
"No.""
"Angela Morris says you gave birth to a girl.""
Sarah began sobbing.
"I never saw her.""
"She says the baby was alive.""
Sarah's voice shattered.
"They told me the third embryo had never developed. They told me there were only two babies.""
I closed my eyes.
"I'm sorry.""
Sarah cried for several seconds before she could speak again.
"James, if there was a little girl, then someone took all three of my children from me.""
I looked at the hospital card in my hand.
"Yes.""
Then Sarah said something that made the next question impossible to avoid.
"Do you know what I named her?""
I swallowed.
"No.""
She whispered a name.
"Grace.""
I looked at the identification card again.
The name wasn't written anywhere on it.
But beneath the printed hospital number, someone had added a small handwritten note.
G. Cole.
May you like
My father's surname.
And suddenly, I wondered whether the missing child had ever left the Cole family at all.
