Chapter 13 - The House Was Never Ours
We left the Topanga house through a rear trail while Bell argued with my attorney at the front.
Grace took Sophie to a safe location arranged by counsel.
Olivia, Malcolm, and I drove to Harbor Ridge.
I needed the records.
If Olivia had been held there illegally, we could destroy Lucas’s custody case.
The facility looked peaceful from the outside.
White walls.
Ocean view.
A fountain in the courtyard.
A receptionist told us all records older than twelve months had been archived off-site.
Olivia laughed.
“They’re lying.”
A security guard recognized her.
His face changed.
“Ms. Carter.”
“You remember me?”
He looked toward the hallway.
“I remember everyone.”
I stepped closer.
“Where are her records?”
He whispered, “You need to leave.”
“Why?”
“Because Dr. Keller is here.”
Olivia froze.
“Who is Keller?” I asked.
“The doctor who kept me after the crash.”
A voice behind us answered.
“No, Olivia. I kept you after your family tried to kill you.”
Dr. Samuel Keller stood at the end of the hall.
He was in his sixties, calm, silver-haired, dressed more like a banker than a psychiatrist.
Olivia backed away.
“You drugged me.”
“I kept you sedated because you repeatedly tried to escape.”
“You held me under a false name.”
“To keep Lucas from finding you.”
I stared at him.
Olivia did too.
“That’s a lie.”
Keller looked at me.
“Is it?”
He invited us into his office.
On his desk was a file labeled JANE MERRITT.
Olivia’s alias.
Inside were medical notes, photographs of bruises, and copies of threats sent to the clinic.
One message read:
IF CARTER’S WIFE SURFACES, THE GIRL GOES NEXT.
“Who sent this?” I asked.
“We never proved it.”
“Why didn’t you contact police?”
Keller gave me a tired look.
“Detective Bell was the officer assigned to the complaint.”
Olivia sat down slowly.
The world shifted again.
Keller had held her.
But maybe not for the reason she believed.
“What about Vanessa?” I asked.
“She worked here for six weeks.”
“Only six?”
“She was fired.”
Olivia stared.
“For what?”
Keller opened another file.
“Accessing your medication record without authorization.”
He slid over a surveillance still.
Vanessa stood in a restricted records room.
Beside her was my mother.
Eleanor.
I felt my stomach turn.
Keller continued, “Your mother came here four times. She always asked the same question.”
“What question?”
“Whether Olivia remembered signing the transfer documents.”
Olivia looked at me.
“I never signed any transfer documents.”
Keller nodded.
“I know.”
He opened the final page.
A fingerprint report.
The disputed signatures on several trust amendments were not Olivia’s.
They belonged to someone else.
My mother.
Keller removed a second folder from his cabinet.
“This is why I agreed to speak to you.”
Inside were photographs taken the night Olivia arrived after the crash.
Her clothes were wet.
There was blood near her temple.
But one image showed something else.
A hospital wristband already attached to her arm.
The printed admission time was three hours before the car supposedly went over the cliff.
Olivia stared at it.
“That can’t be right.”
Keller nodded.
“You were admitted before the public accident.”
I felt the room tilt.
“So the crash was staged after she was already here.”
“Yes.”
“By who?”
Keller looked at the signature on the intake authorization.
ROBERT CARTER.
My father.
He had not reacted to Olivia’s disappearance.
He had scheduled it.
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