“She disappeared after copying hospital records.”
I looked at Natalie.
“And you knew?”
“I learned six months ago.”
“Six months?”
“I didn't know how to tell you.”
I almost shouted.
Then Owen appeared again.
I lowered my voice.
“Go play upstairs for ten minutes, buddy.”
“Can I keep the key?”
“No.”
He pouted.
“Fine.”
When he left, I locked the front door.
Then the back.
Then I called Thomas Keane.
Thomas had been my closest friend since college and had spent fifteen years as a federal investigator before joining a corporate security firm.
I didn't explain everything.
I simply said, “I need you at my house now.”
He arrived eighteen minutes later.
After hearing the story, he stared at the hidden room.
Then at Natalie.
Then at me.
“First thing,” he said, “nobody leaves.”
Mara laughed bitterly.
“That won't stop him.”
“Who?”
“Malcolm.”
Thomas looked at me.
“Your father-in-law?”
“Yes.”
He examined the secret panel.
“This wasn't added during your renovation?”
“No.”
Natalie spoke.
“My father owned the property years ago.”
I turned.
“What?”
“The house belonged to a Voss Development subsidiary.”
“You never told me.”
“I didn't know until recently.”
Thomas looked inside the chamber.
“So Malcolm's company may have built this.”
Mara nodded.
“It wasn't originally a prison.”
“What was it?”
“A document room.”
My skin prickled.
“Why put a document room behind a wall?”
Mara looked at Natalie.
“Because Diane needed somewhere Malcolm wouldn't search.”
The key marked 6031 eventually led us to a storage facility twenty-six miles away.
Unit 6031 had been rented for fourteen years.
The account name was fake.
Thomas arranged for two retired officers he trusted to accompany us.
Natalie stayed with Owen.
Mara insisted on coming.
The storage unit contained seven steel boxes.
Thousands of pages.
Hospital identification bands.
Microfilm.
Photographs.
Financial records.
Old birth certificates.
And one red binder.
On its cover were four handwritten words:
ST. CATHERINE'S TRANSFER CASES.
I opened it.
Most of the names meant nothing to me.
Until I reached 2021.
HOLLOWAY, NATALIE.
MALE INFANT.
I stopped breathing.
Mara stood beside me.
“That's Owen.”
There were two identification numbers.
One crossed out.
One substituted.
Beneath them was a handwritten instruction.
DO NOT RELEASE ORIGINAL RECORD.
I looked at Mara.
“Was my son switched?”
“I don't know.”
“You've been telling me all day you worked there.”
“I worked records. I didn't physically handle infants.”
“Then who does know?”
Mara pointed deeper into the unit.
“There may be DNA records.”
We searched until Thomas found a sealed envelope.
Inside was a test report.
My name.
Owen's name.
PATERNITY EXCLUDED.