Chapter 13 - The House With Three Cribs
I stopped sleeping.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw empty bassinets.
The hospital moved us into a secure room with a guard outside. Ava, Lily, and Rose never left my sight unless Ethan went with them.
Even then, my pulse raced until they came back.
The file marked HART - AVA contained a second forged surrender document.
Different adoptive parents.
Different amount.
Ninety-five thousand dollars.
Rose had been promised to Lauren, then apparently redirected to another buyer when Crest decided he could make more money.
Ava had always been intended for someone else.
Lily had a folder too.
Her page was marked HOLD.
Ethan read it and had to leave the room before he broke something.
All three daughters had been cataloged before I ever held them.
Federal agents traced a property connected to Marissa through a shell company: a furnished house outside the city.
Inside were three brand-new cribs.
Three infant car seats.
Boxes of formula.
Prepaid phones.
Blank birth certificate worksheets.
And a wall calendar with my scheduled C-section circled in red.
Our daughters had a staging house waiting for them.
The story hit the news despite the hospital’s attempts at privacy.
INFANT ABDUCTION RING INVESTIGATED.
FERTILITY DOCTOR MISSING.
NEW MOTHER’S TRIPLETS TARGETED.
My parents arrived from out of state and cried when they saw the girls.
Ethan’s aunt called to say Diane was “sick” and needed compassion.
Ethan hung up on her.
Another relative texted that pressing charges would “destroy the family.”
I replied with one sentence.
She tried to destroy mine first.
Then I blocked the number.
Mark returned to see Lauren.
They spoke alone for almost an hour.
When he came out, his face looked ten years older.
“Are you leaving her?” Ethan asked.
Mark glanced toward Lauren’s room.
“I don’t know.”
“She was willing to take our daughter.”
“I know.”
“She hid it from you.”
“I know.”
Mark’s voice cracked.
“But I also know what three years of grief did to her. I’m not excusing it. I’m trying to decide whether the person I married is still in there.”
Ethan said nothing.
There was no clean answer.
That night, I was feeding Rose when the guard outside our room knocked.
“Mrs. Hart? Detective Ortiz is here.”
Ortiz entered holding a tablet.
“We found Dr. Crest.”
“Where?”
“Traffic camera caught his car crossing into New York.”
Ethan stood.
“So he’s running.”
“Yes, but that’s not why I’m here.”
She turned the tablet around.
A security image showed Crest at a gas station.
Beside him stood Patricia Shaw.
And in the back seat of the car was an infant carrier.
I stared at the blurry image.
“Is there a baby in it?”
“We don’t know.”
Ortiz swiped to the next frame.
The blanket shifted.
A tiny hand appeared.
Patricia and Crest had another newborn.
And nobody had reported that baby missing yet.
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