"Maya, tell me where you are."
The line crackled.
I heard a door close.
Then the muted rumble of an engine.
"I'm okay."
"No, you're not."
My voice came out too sharply.
I softened it immediately.
"I'm sorry. Please. Just tell me where she's taking you."
Maya hesitated.
"I don't know."
"Can you see street signs?"
Another pause.
"She says we're going somewhere private so she can show me records."
"Tell her to stop the car."
"I can't."
"Why?"
Maya's voice dropped.
"Because she knows about Sarah."
The name meant her adoptive mother.
"What does she know?"
"Things nobody should know."
I looked at Anna.
"What kinds of things?"
"She knows Mom used to call me Birdie. She knows about the music box Dad bought me when I was seven. She knows Sarah kept my baby teeth in a blue jar because she thought throwing them away was bad luck."
Those were intimate details.
Not medical records.
Someone had known the Bennett family.
"That doesn't mean she's telling the truth."
"I know."
"Then why are you with her?"
Maya went quiet.
When she answered, the hurt in her voice made me grip the phone harder.
"Because everybody else has lied to me."
I had no defense against that.
Carl had withheld the truth.
Evelyn had withheld the truth.
Dad had withheld the truth from me.
And I, despite not knowing anything, was asking Maya to trust another stranger claiming to be family.
"You're right."
Anna looked at me.
I continued.
"You shouldn't trust me just because I say I'm your mother."
Maya said nothing.
"But you don't have to trust Dr. Voss either."
"I don't."
"Then keep me on the phone."
A long silence.
"Okay."
Relief almost made me dizzy.
"Put the phone somewhere she can't see it."
I heard fabric move.
Then Maya's voice became muffled.
"I'm going to put it in my pocket."
"Good."
The phone shifted.
Voices became faint.
I turned to Evelyn.
"Who is Laura Voss?"
Evelyn glanced at Anna.
Anna answered.
"Pediatric neurologist."
"At the hospital?"
"Thirteen years ago."
"What did she do?"
Anna's jaw tightened.
"She signed my transfer."
Dad stopped walking.
"The transfer under 3079?"
"Yes."
We reached the parking lot.
Anna headed toward a black hatchback.
"My car."
Dad looked at me.
"We should call the police."
"We are."
I dialed emergency services from my own phone while keeping Carl's phone connected to Maya.
I explained there was a possible kidnapping in progress.
The dispatcher asked for the vehicle description.
I didn't have one.
I leaned toward the prepaid phone.
"Maya, can you hear me?"
No response.
Then a woman's voice emerged faintly.
Dr. Voss.
"You're frightened because Carl overwhelmed you."
Maya answered, too quietly for me to catch everything.
Voss continued.
"He has been obsessed with this story for years."
I turned up the volume.
Anna pulled out of the parking lot.
Dad sat in front.
Evelyn and I were in the back, my phones in both hands.
"Where would Voss take her?" I asked.
Anna shook her head.
"I don't know."
"Think."
"There was a clinic."
Evelyn turned.
"North Ridge?"
Anna nodded.
"It closed years ago."
"Where?"
"Forty minutes west."
I repeated the information to the dispatcher.
They said units would check the address.
On the prepaid phone, Maya spoke louder.
"Why would DNA say he's my father?"
Voss answered calmly.
"Because the sample was contaminated."
I almost shouted at the phone.
Anna caught my eye.
"Don't. If Voss knows you're listening, she may take it."
I forced myself silent.
Maya asked, "And Rebecca?"
Voss paused.
"Rebecca Carter lost a daughter."
I could hear every word now.
"Grief can make people vulnerable to believing things they desperately want to be true."
My hands began shaking.
Evelyn whispered, "She's turning Maya against you."
Anna kept driving.
"Let her talk."
Dr. Voss continued.
"Carl has spent years searching for a child he couldn't save. He found you because you resemble Emily."
Maya said, "I look exactly like Lily."
"Many unrelated people look similar."
"Not like this."
Silence.
Voss changed direction.
"Did Carl tell you that Rebecca stopped searching after only a few months?"
My breath caught.
Maya said nothing.
"Did he tell you she accepted Emily's death?"
I wanted to reach through the phone.
I wanted to explain the coffin.
The death certificate.
The years in which I had believed searching for Emily would have meant digging through a grave.
Voss continued.
"People are complicated, Maya. Sometimes they rewrite their own history because guilt is easier to bear when someone else becomes the villain."
My stomach turned.
"She's preparing her," Anna said quietly.
"For what?"
"To reject you."
"Why does she care?"
Anna glanced in the mirror.
"Because if Maya believes she's Emily, she can reopen everything."
"She's eighteen. What can she do?"
"Demand records. Give testimony. Submit DNA. Ask questions no one can dismiss as a grieving father imagining things."
Dad turned around.
"So Voss needs Maya to believe she's someone else."
"Or disappear again."
The words filled the car.
Evelyn looked out the window.
"We should have stopped this years ago."
Anna's laugh was cold.
"You had chances."
"I know."
I watched her.
For the first time, Evelyn didn't defend herself.
On the phone, Maya suddenly said, "Where are we going?"
Voss answered, "Somewhere quiet."
"I thought we were going to see records."
"We are."
"Why did you turn off the highway?"
Anna's eyes sharpened.
"What did she say?"
I repeated it.
"North Ridge isn't off the highway yet."
Dad looked at the navigation map.
"Could be heading south."
Anna cursed under her breath.
"There's another place."
"Where?"
"Old rehabilitation center near Lake Mercer."
"How far?"
"Twenty-five minutes."
I relayed the location to emergency services.
The dispatcher said officers were being sent to both addresses.
Maya's breathing became audible.
She was afraid now.
I spoke loudly enough for her pocket to catch my voice.
"Maya, if you can hear me, do not confront her. Just keep track of where you're going."
No response.
Voss said something I couldn't hear.
Then Maya asked, "Did you know Sarah?"
A long pause.
"Yes."
Everybody in our car went still.
Maya's voice trembled.
"How?"
"I helped arrange your adoption."
I closed my eyes.
There it was.
A direct connection.
Voss continued.
"Sarah and Thomas wanted a child. You needed a home."
"I was five."
"Yes."
"So where was I before them?"
Another silence.
"You were recovering."
"From what?"
"An accident."
"What accident?"
Voss did not answer.
Maya pushed.
"Why don't I remember it?"
"Trauma can affect memory."
"Did you know my real parents?"
"Maya—"
"Did you know them?"
Voss sighed.
"I knew enough to believe you were safer without them."
My fingers went numb.
Evelyn whispered, "There."
"What?"
"She just admitted it."
Anna shook her head.
"Not enough."
Dad looked back.
"Enough for what?"
"For a criminal case? Maybe not. For Maya? It might be."
The vehicle slowed.
I could hear the change in engine pitch.
Then gravel under tires.
Anna sped up.
"Where are you?" I asked into the phone.
Nothing.
A car door opened.
Voss's voice became clearer.
"Leave the phone."
My heart stopped.
Maya answered, "It's mine."
"I said leave it."
Fabric rustled.
"Maya?"
A sharp sound.
Then the connection jolted.
I heard Maya gasp.
The phone struck something.
"Maya!"
Voss said, "Who are you talking to?"
The line went dead.
I stared at the screen.
No call.
Anna pressed harder on the accelerator.
"Call back."
I did.
Nothing.
Again.
Straight to voicemail.
I called Carl.
Still nothing.
Dad said, "Police will get there."
"You don't know that."
Neither did he.
We left the city.
Buildings thinned.
The road curved through pine woods and low hills.
I kept seeing the face from the photograph.
Eight-year-old Emily.
Eighteen-year-old Maya.
My daughter sitting in a stranger's car because every adult connected to her childhood had given her a different version of who she was.
Twenty minutes later Anna turned onto a narrow county road.
"No police."
"Maybe ahead."
The rehabilitation center appeared beyond rusted gates.
Three low brick buildings faced a weed-filled parking lot.
A faded sign hung crooked beside the entrance.
MERCER LAKE RECOVERY CENTER.
Closed.
No vehicles visible.
Anna parked behind a maintenance shed.
Dad reached for his door.
Evelyn stopped him.
"Wait."
"For what?"
"Look."
A tire track crossed the dust.
Fresh.
Someone had driven in recently.
Anna opened the glove compartment.
Inside was a flashlight and a folding knife.
Dad stared.
"That's your plan?"
"My plan is not to pretend we're safe."
She handed the flashlight to him and kept the knife.
I called emergency services again.
They confirmed officers were en route.
I didn't wait.
The nearest building had broken windows and boarded doors.
The second appeared sealed.
The third had a side door slightly open.
We moved toward it.
My heart hammered so loudly I could barely hear the wind.
Inside, the corridor smelled of mildew.
Old hospital rooms lined both sides.
Dad called softly, "Maya?"
No answer.
Evelyn pointed to fresh footprints in the dust.
Two sets.
One smaller.
They led downstairs.
I followed.
At the bottom was a long hallway lit by a single fluorescent tube.
Someone had restored power to part of the building.
"That's not abandoned," Dad whispered.
A door stood open ahead.
Inside was a chair.
A desk.
Boxes of documents.
No Maya.
But her phone lay on the floor.
I ran to it.
The screen was cracked.
Beside it was a strip of torn gray fabric.
Her jacket.
"She was here."
Anna moved to the window.
"Car tracks behind the building."
I felt sick.
"They moved her."
Dad checked the papers on the desk.
"Rebecca."
He held up a folder.
My name was written across it.
Inside were photographs.
Me leaving work.
Me buying groceries.
Me at Emily's grave.
Years of photographs.
The oldest was dated twelve years ago.
The newest had been taken last week.
Another folder carried Lily's name.
School.
Soccer games.
Birthday parties.
Someone had watched her grow up.
Evelyn covered her mouth.
"My God."
Anna grabbed another file.
Then she stopped.
"What?"
She turned the folder toward us.
CARL CARTER.
Inside were recent photographs.
One showed Carl outside a motel three days earlier.
Another showed him meeting Maya beside the lake.
Then I saw the final photograph.
It had been taken that morning.
Carl was unconscious in the back seat of a vehicle.
A handwritten note had been clipped beneath it.
Move both assets before noon.
Dad whispered, "Both?"
I already knew.
Carl.
And Maya.
Then a door slammed somewhere above us.
Anna turned off the flashlight.
Footsteps crossed the floor overhead.
Slow.
Heavy.
Not police.
A man's voice called down the stairwell.
"Rebecca Carter?"
My skin went cold.
He knew I was there.
"Come upstairs."
Nobody moved.
Then he added:
"If you want your husband and your daughter alive, come alone."
Click here to continue reading: PART 7: The Man Upstairs Knew Where Carl and Maya Had Been Taken, but His Bargain Required Me to Choose Whom to Follow
Thirteen Years After We Buried Emily, My Father Put a Photograph on the Table That Should Not Have Existed
Part 6 of 44
