Chapter 3 - The Shadow of Raymond Vance
By nightfall, the hospital had been placed under an informal security lockdown. Two uniformed officers were stationed outside the pediatric ward, while a detective sat in a chair near the nurse's station, watching the elevators.
In a quiet conference room on the third floor, Eleanor Vance sat across from Detective Miller, a veteran investigator with tired eyes and a thick gray mustache. Between them sat the evidence bag containing the notebook found on the kitchen table, along with the torn prescription bottle and the bloody scissors.
"The deceased has been identified as Catherine Miller," Detective Miller said, tapping a manila folder. "Twenty-nine years old. No living relatives on record. She moved into that isolated property six months ago, paying cash under an alias. The medical examiner’s preliminary report came in an hour ago."
"Cause of death?" Eleanor asked, leaning forward.
"Exsanguination following a home delivery," Miller replied quietly. "She gave birth to those twins three days ago without medical assistance. There were severe complications. She bled out slowly over twenty-four hours."
Eleanor closed her eyes, horrified. "So she spent her final hours watching her children, knowing she was dying, and couldn't call an ambulance?"
"There was no phone in the house," Miller said. "No landline, no cell service. The nearest neighbor is three miles away. She knew she wasn't going to make it, so she spent her last remaining strength wrapping those babies, writing that note, and instructing a seven-year-old girl on how to push a wheelbarrow four miles into town."
"And Raymond?" Eleanor asked, her tone hardening. "What was he doing there?"
"According to state records, Raymond Vance was Catherine’s step-uncle," Miller explained. "He ran an illegal private adoption scheme five years ago—selling infants to wealthy couples willing to bypass background checks. He was sent to federal prison, but got out on early parole eight months ago."
The picture was beginning to paint itself in horrifying detail.
"He was tracking her," Eleanor realized aloud. "He knew she was pregnant with twins. He was waiting for her to give birth so he could take the babies and sell them."
"That’s our lead theory," Miller agreed. "When Catherine went into labor and died, Raymond showed up to collect the infants. But he didn't count on one thing."
"He didn't count on Maya," Eleanor said softly.
"Exactly," Miller nodded. "The girl hid the babies in the wheelbarrow and slipped out of the house while Raymond was upstairs searching for Catherine's documents or cash. By the time Raymond realized the children were gone, Maya was already halfway to the county hospital."
Suddenly, the red emergency phone on the conference room wall began to ring. Detective Miller reached over and picked up the receiver.
"Miller," he said sharply.
He listened for three seconds, his brow furrowing deep into a frown. His eyes met Eleanor's across the table.
"Where?" Miller asked. "Understood. Keep the floor locked down. Nobody enters without a badge."
Miller hung up the phone and stood up immediately, pulling his coat off the back of his chair.
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"What happened?" Eleanor asked, standing up beside him.
"Security just checked the perimeter cameras," Miller said, his voice cold. "A rusted Ford F-150 just pulled into the hospital parking garage. Raymond Vance is in the building."
