Chapter 3 - THE AUNT WHO CLOSED THE FILE
Marjorie Kane had been dead for six years.
A sudden aneurysm.
At the funeral, Charles called her the most loyal person in the family.
Now I understood loyalty might have been the problem.
I called Charles immediately.
We had been divorced for seven years, but we still spoke at board meetings and family events with the careful civility wealthy people use when they have too much shared history to become true strangers.
He answered on the fourth ring.
“Vivienne?”
“Do you remember Anna Reed?”
Silence.
Then, “No.”
Too quick.
“What about Michael Reed?”
“No.”
“Marjorie placed a thirteen-year-old Jane Doe with them the day after Isabelle died.”
Another silence.
“What are you talking about?”
“There is a young woman standing in my bedroom wearing Isabelle’s necklace.”
He inhaled sharply.
“What?”
“I want you here.”
“Vivienne, don’t do anything emotional.”
The sentence enraged me.
“Our dead daughter may be alive.”
“She is not.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I identified her.”
There it was.
The foundation of ten years of grief.
Charles had gone to the medical examiner while I was sedated.
I remembered waking and begging to see Isabelle.
He told me it was impossible.
The burns were too severe.
The coffin remained closed.
“Bring me the dental report,” I said.
“What?”
“The original report you used to identify her.”
“After ten years?”
“Yes.”
He lowered his voice.
“Vivienne, if some maid is trying to manipulate you for money—”
I hung up.
Sofia stood near the window, visibly uncomfortable.
“I don’t want money.”
“I know.”
I did not know.
But I wanted to.
The next morning, my attorney, Evelyn Park, obtained the archived death file.
The dental comparison looked legitimate.
Then Evelyn noticed something.
The dental chart used to identify the body had been printed from Dr. Leonard Shaw’s office.
Our family dentist.
His signature appeared on the certification.
Leonard had retired.
He agreed to meet us.
The moment he saw the file, his hands began trembling.
“I didn’t certify this.”
I stared at him.
“Your signature is there.”
“It’s copied.”
He turned the page.
“This chart isn’t Isabelle’s.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
He pointed to a filled molar.
“Isabelle never had this filling.”
Evelyn leaned closer.
“Whose chart is it?”
Leonard looked at the old patient code.
Then he went pale.
“This belongs to another girl.”
“Who?”
He swallowed.
“Emily Kane.”
Marjorie’s daughter.
May you like
My niece.
The girl we were told ran away three months before Isabelle’s crash.
