Chapter 3 - THE SIGNATURE THAT STOLE A CHILD
“Then why didn't you tell someone?” Nicholas demanded.
Claire flinched.
The question hurt more than he intended.
“I did,” she answered. “I told the rehabilitation center's security desk. They said they'd review the cameras.”
Nicholas closed his eyes.
He had just apologized to her for making assumptions.
And already he was doing it again.
“I'm sorry,” he said. “That wasn't fair.”
Claire folded the photograph carefully.
“June was frightened, Mr. Romano. But she didn't understand what the man wanted. She just kept saying her grandmother had told her not to talk about her family.”
Celeste hurried toward the doorway.
“I'm going there.”
Nicholas stopped her.
“Not alone.”
“That's my daughter!”
“And somebody may be watching you.”
Celeste opened her mouth, then closed it.
For the first time, fear overcame her anger.
Nicholas instructed his security chief, Marcus Reed, to keep the estate secure and preserve every recording from the afternoon.
He also arranged for a private nurse to remain with Eleanor.
Before leaving, he knelt beside his aunt.
“You should have trusted me.”
Eleanor touched his cheek with her uninjured hand.
“I know, sweetheart.”
“You let me hate my brother for abandoning us.”
“I thought telling you would put you in danger.”
Nicholas stood.
“And look where keeping secrets brought us.”
He left without waiting for an answer.
Forty minutes later, Nicholas, Claire, and Celeste entered St. Anne's Rehabilitation Center.
The building stood on a quiet street lined with maple trees.
Nicholas knew it well.
The Romano Family Trust had helped renovate its east wing.
His father had supported the facility for years, and Nicholas had continued the donations.
Claire led them toward the nurses' station.
A middle-aged administrator named Patricia Collins looked up.
“Claire? Is your father all right?”
“He's fine. I'm looking for June Bell.”
Patricia's expression changed.
“June isn't here.”
“Where is she?”
“She was transferred into temporary care this afternoon.”
Claire stopped walking.
“What do you mean, transferred?”
Patricia glanced at Nicholas.
“I'm sorry. Who are you?”
“Nicholas Romano. My family helps fund this center.”
Patricia straightened.
“Mr. Romano, I didn't recognize you.”
“Please answer her question.”
Patricia hesitated.
“An emergency placement request came through our affiliated family-services program. We were told June's guardian could no longer provide care.”
Celeste caught the edge of the counter.
“Where is Margaret Bell?”
“She was admitted to the hospital this morning.”
“Why?” Nicholas asked.
“She suffered a fall outside her home.”
Claire frowned.
“Margaret doesn't have trouble walking.”
Patricia nodded slowly.
“I thought it was unusual too.”
Nicholas asked to see the transfer authorization.
Patricia initially refused.
Then Celeste stepped forward.
“My name is Celeste Whitmore. I am June's biological mother.”
Patricia stared.
Celeste's voice broke.
“I was told my daughter died when she was a baby. I've just discovered she's alive. Please.”
Something in her expression changed Patricia's mind.
She agreed to contact the program director and verify the family's claim.
While they waited, Claire went to her father's room.
Nicholas followed.
Daniel Dawson sat beside the window in a blue sweater.
At sixty-one, he looked older than his years.
The stroke had weakened his right side and made speech difficult, but his eyes brightened when Claire entered.
“Hi, Dad.”
She kissed his forehead.
Daniel smiled.
“Good... girl.”
Claire laughed softly.
“I'm twenty-nine, Dad.”
He smiled again.
On the table beside his bed stood three colorful drawings.
One showed a dog with enormous ears.
Another showed two people standing beneath a rainbow.
The third depicted a little girl beside an older woman in a yellow coat.
Nicholas picked it up.
A blue butterfly was drawn on the girl's wrist.
At the bottom, in uneven letters, June had written:
Grandma says family is the people who come back.
Nicholas's throat tightened.
His niece had spent eight years believing the Romanos were strangers.
And he had never known she existed.
Daniel noticed his expression.
He pointed at the drawing.
“June.”
Nicholas nodded.
“Yes. June.”
Daniel tapped the picture again.
“Scared.”
Claire sat beside him.
“Dad, did June tell you something?”
He struggled to form the words.
“Watch.”
Nicholas leaned closer.
“What kind of watch?”
Daniel lifted his left wrist and pointed.
“Silver.”
Claire exchanged a look with Nicholas.
“Did you see the man?”
Daniel nodded.
“Office.”
“Whose office?”
Daniel pressed his lips together, frustrated.
Claire gently squeezed his hand.
“It's okay, Dad. Don't hurt yourself trying.”
Daniel reached toward his bedside drawer.
Inside was a folded sheet of paper.
He pushed it into Claire's hand.
It was another drawing.
This one showed a tall man wearing a gray coat.
On his wrist was an oversized silver watch.
Behind him stood a black car.
The man's face had been crossed out with red crayon.
At the bottom, June had written:
He knows my first name.
Nicholas stared at the picture.
Most people at St. Anne's knew the child as June Bell.
But someone knew her connection to the Romano family.
And that person had frightened her enough to draw him.
Patricia appeared in the doorway.
“Mr. Romano? The program director is ready.”
Back downstairs, they were led into a small conference room.
A file lay on the table.
Patricia opened it.
“The transfer was approved at eleven forty-five this morning.”
Nicholas studied the document.
“Where was she taken?”
“To a temporary placement arranged through the Whitmore Family Services Foundation.”
Celeste recoiled.
“My father's foundation?”
Patricia nodded.
“That's correct.”
Celeste shook her head.
“He never told me June was alive.”
Nicholas wasn't certain whether to believe her.
Patricia continued.
“The receiving facility is listed as Harbor House Children's Residence.”
“Where is that?” Claire asked.
“On the North Shore.”
Nicholas looked at Marcus, who had joined them after securing the estate.
“Find that facility. Confirm she's there before anyone moves her again.”
Marcus stepped outside.
Patricia turned another page.
“There is one problem.”
She slid a document toward Nicholas.
“The authorization was supported by a sworn statement alleging Margaret Bell was medically incapable of caring for June.”
“Who signed it?” Celeste asked.
Patricia pointed to the bottom.
Claire leaned forward.
Then she went completely still.
Printed beneath the signature were three words.
Claire Marie Dawson.
“I didn't sign this.”
Patricia looked uncomfortable.
“The statement identifies you as a household employee with firsthand knowledge of June's living conditions.”
Claire shook her head.
“I don't work in Margaret's household.”
Nicholas examined the signature.
It looked convincing.
Even the small loop in Claire's last name had been copied accurately.
“Someone forged it,” he said.
Patricia pointed to an attached identification sheet.
A photocopy of Claire's driver's license appeared beside her employment address.
Claire recognized the photograph immediately.
It was the copy she'd submitted when Nicholas hired her.
“That's from my personnel file.”
Nicholas looked at Celeste.
Celeste stared at the document.
“I never made that.”
“Someone had access to my housekeeper's private information,” Nicholas replied.
The implications were ugly.
Claire had been publicly accused of theft just hours earlier.
Now someone had used her identity to remove a child from her guardian.
If the authorities believed the forged statement, Claire could face serious trouble.
And Celeste's father stood at the center of both events.
Patricia's desk phone rang.
She answered, listened, and slowly lowered herself into her chair.
“Harbor House says June never arrived.”
Celeste gripped the table.
“What?”
“They received instructions canceling the placement after the transport vehicle left.”
Nicholas stepped forward.
“Who canceled it?”
“The foundation office.”
“Where did they send her?”
Patricia looked terrified.
“They won't tell us.”
Nicholas's phone vibrated with a message from Marcus.
Security had obtained a still image from the center's parking-lot camera.
A little girl in a pink sweater was climbing into a black vehicle.
A tall man held the door.
His face was turned away.
But Nicholas recognized the vehicle immediately.
It belonged to his own security fleet.
He enlarged the image.
The little girl looked back toward the building.
On her wrist was a blue butterfly bracelet.
Nicholas turned to Marcus.
“Who authorized that car?”
Marcus checked the fleet log.
His expression changed.
“The assignment came directly from your executive account, boss.”
Nicholas stared at him.
“I never authorized it.”
Marcus swallowed.
“Then someone used your credentials.”
A second security image appeared.
It showed the driver leaning out of the car to scan his access badge.
Nicholas recognized the man.
Not from the wedding.
Not from the rehabilitation center.
From hundreds of family dinners and business meetings.
The driver was Thomas Vale.
Charles Whitmore's personal assistant.
And wrapped around his wrist was a heavy silver watch.
Nicholas's face hardened.
“Get me the address of Charles Whitmore's office.”
Marcus hesitated.
“Boss, there's something you need to see first.”
He enlarged the image one final time.
Through the rear window, another passenger was visible.
A woman sitting beside June.
Her face was unmistakable.
May you like
Nicholas looked slowly toward Celeste.
Because the woman in the car looked exactly like her.
