Chapter 6 - The Baby Shower Card

"The baby shower," Claire said.

I looked at the signature again.

"What about it?"

"Your mother had everyone write advice on cards. Remember?"

I did. Blue-and-white decorations, a giant cake, too many gifts, my mother running the whole afternoon like a campaign event.

Claire rubbed her forehead.

"One card asked me to write my full name and a message to the baby. Evelyn said she wanted to frame it."

Dr. Patel's attorney leaned closer. "You're saying someone may have traced or transferred your signature from that card?"

"I'm saying I never saw that power of attorney."

I pulled out my phone and called my mother.

She answered on the first ring.

"Are you ready to apologize?"

"Where is the baby shower card Claire signed?"

Silence.

"What?"

"The card. Where is it?"

"I don't keep track of every scrap of paper from your wife's parties."

Claire closed her eyes.

I said, "Susan Hale signed as a witness."

My mother exhaled slowly.

"You need to stop treating this like a crime."

"It is a crime if you forged my wife's signature."

"I did not forge anything."

"Then come back and say that to hospital security."

"No."

"Why not?"

Her voice dropped.

"Because you're angry, and angry men make stupid decisions."

I almost laughed.

"You mean like coming home early?"

She hung up.

Claire looked at me. "She knows we're close."

"Close to what?"

"Finding out why she did it."

Before I could answer, Dr. Patel returned with a nurse carrying a tablet.

"Claire, your contractions are slowing. That's encouraging. But I need to ask about one more thing."

She turned the screen toward us.

There was a lab order from three weeks earlier.

PATERNITY ANALYSIS - MATERNAL BLOOD / ALLEGED FATHER SAMPLE.

I stared at the words.

"What is that?"

Claire looked just as shocked as I felt.

"I never took a paternity test."

Dr. Patel said, "Your blood was drawn at your routine visit that day. The lab order was added later."

My mouth went dry.

"Whose sample did they use for me?"

Nobody answered.

Then Claire whispered, "Your toothbrush."

I looked at her.

"The week you left, your mother came over. She went upstairs alone. She said she needed the bathroom."

My phone buzzed.

A text from an unknown number.

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STOP DIGGING IF YOU WANT YOUR SON SAFE.