Chapter 8 - THE SECRET INSIDE THE BLUE BLANKET
I had kept the blue blanket for sixteen weeks.
It was small.
Faded.
Covered in tiny white stars.
The fabric had been wrapped around Oliver when we left the hospital.
During our first night on the road, I washed it in a motel sink and hung it over the shower curtain.
By morning, it was dry enough to use again.
I washed it dozens of times afterward.
It became the one familiar thing Oliver recognized in every unfamiliar room.
He would rub the edge against his cheek before falling asleep.
I never thought there was anything unusual about it.
Until Dominic saw the stitching.
We were sitting in the nursery.
Oliver had finally gone to sleep.
Dominic stood beside the crib holding a stuffed bear.
Then he noticed the blanket.
He froze.
"Where did you get that?"
I looked up.
"The hospital."
He stepped closer.
"May I see it?"
I hesitated.
Then handed it over.
He turned the fabric carefully.
Near one corner was a tiny embroidered letter.
S.
Dominic's face changed.
"My mother made this."
I stared.
"What?"
"She used to sew these stars onto blankets for children in the family."
His voice softened.
"She made one for Samuel when he was born."
I looked at the fabric.
"Then this belonged to Oliver's father?"
Dominic nodded.
"Samuel kept it for years."
He held the corner toward the light.
Then frowned.
"Something's different."
I leaned closer.
"What?"
"The seam."
He ran a finger along the edge.
"It was always flat. This part has been folded over."
I remembered Elena clutching the baby.
The jacket.
The blood.
Her desperate warning.
Don't let them take him.
My heart began pounding.
"Could something be hidden inside?"
Dominic looked at me.
"Maybe."
I reached for the small sewing scissors in my nursing bag.
Then stopped.
"We should document it before opening anything. It may be evidence."
Dominic nodded.
For once, neither of us tried to solve the mystery alone.
We contacted Rebecca and the investigators.
The next morning, a forensic examiner carefully inspected the blanket.
Inside the altered seam was a small waterproof packet.
It contained a miniature memory card and a folded piece of paper.
The note was written in neat blue ink.
If anything happens to me, find the woman who knows what Anna Collins did.
Beneath it was another sentence.
Her daughter is the only one who can identify the man in the recording.
My throat tightened.
I stared at the note.
Her daughter.
Me.
I looked at Dominic.
His expression had gone pale.
"What recording?" I whispered.
He shook his head.
"I don't know."
The memory card was examined through the investigative process.
It contained several files.
A photograph of Samuel Farrow.
A scanned financial ledger.
And a video recorded in what appeared to be a private hospital room.
The woman on the screen was Elena.
Her face was pale.
She looked exhausted.
But she was alive when the video was made.
I covered my mouth.
She spoke directly into the camera.
"My name is Elena Farrow. If this recording is found, I want investigators to know that my husband discovered payments connecting Detective Raymond Kessler to illegal transport operations."
She took a trembling breath.
"Samuel tried to report it. They took him before he could."
The camera shifted.
A man entered the room.
Tall.
Gray-haired.
Wearing a dark jacket.
His face was partly obscured.
But something about the way he moved made my stomach tighten.
Elena whispered, "He says he can get us out."
The man approached.
The camera caught his wrist.
A distinctive silver watch.
Then he turned toward the lens.
For one second, his face became visible.
I stopped breathing.
I knew him.
I had known him since I was seventeen.
He had attended my mother's funeral.
Helped me enroll in nursing school.
Called every Christmas.
The man on the recording was Dr. Leonard Shaw.
And suddenly I understood why he'd spoken my full name in the emergency department.
May you like
He hadn't been identifying a nurse.
He had been identifying me.
