I read the message three times before I showed it to Sarah.
She was washing a cup at the kitchen sink when I walked over and held out my phone.
“Someone knows about my birth.”
Sarah dried her hands.
“What do you mean?”
I showed her the three messages.
She read them silently.
Then she looked at me.
“Did you give this number to anyone?”
“No.”
“Did your father have it?”
“Yes.”
“Your mother?”
“Yes.”
“Investigators?”
“Yes.”
Sarah picked up her phone.
“I’m calling Elena.”
I nodded.
I didn't feel frightened in the same way I had before.
This was different.
The person who sent the messages knew something about the night I was born.
That meant they knew something I didn't.
Elena arrived less than half an hour later with Deputy Collins.
He read the messages without touching my phone.
“Don't respond,” he said.
“I wasn't going to.”
“Good.”
“Can you find who sent them?”
“We can try.”
He asked me to forward screenshots through the official contact Elena had given me.
Then he asked the question that had been sitting in my mind.
“What did the message mean when it said to ask your father about the night you were born?”
“I don't know.”
“Have you asked him?”
“Not yet.”
Deputy Collins exchanged a glance with Elena.
“I think you should let him know about the message before asking anything else.”
Dad arrived that evening.
He looked worried before I said a word.
“What's happened?”
I handed him the phone.
His eyes moved across the screen.
When he reached the last message, his expression changed.
“You need to tell me everything,” he said.
“I just did.”
“No. About the night you were born.”
He sat down.
For several seconds, he looked at his hands.
“I knew this might come up.”
My heart began pounding.
“What happened?”
Dad took a breath.
“Your mother told me she was pregnant.”
“That part I know.”
“She was very happy at first.”
“Then what?”
“Near the end of the pregnancy, she told me there were complications.”
“What kind?”
“She said the doctors were concerned about the baby's health.”
“Was I sick?”
“I don't know.”
“Then how did you know I was born?”
“I received a call from the hospital.”
“Which hospital?”
“St. Catherine.”
I looked at Elena.
That matched my original birth certificate.
Dad continued.
“They told me the baby had been delivered.”
“Did you see me?”
“No.”
I stared at him.
“You didn't see me?”
“Not that night.”
“Why?”
“Your mother told me I wasn't allowed.”
“Why?”
“She said the doctors didn't want visitors.”
“That doesn't make sense.”
“I know.”
“What happened next?”
He rubbed his forehead.
“I went to the hospital anyway.”
My breathing stopped.
“What did you see?”
“Your mother wasn't there.”
I stared.
“What?”
“She had been discharged.”
“But I had just been born.”
“Yes.”
“Where was I?”
“They told me you were still under observation.”
“Did you see me?”
“No.”
“Did you ask?”
“I demanded to.”
His voice became quieter.
“They told me the records were restricted.”
“Why?”
“They said your mother had requested privacy.”
I looked at him.
“Did you believe them?”
“At the time, I didn't know what else to believe.”
“What happened the next day?”
“I went back.”
“And?”
“You were gone.”
My stomach tightened.
“Gone where?”
“Your mother told me you'd been transferred.”
“To Riverside?”
Dad looked at Elena.
“Yes.”
I felt cold.
“Why?”
“She said St. Catherine didn't have the equipment you needed.”
“But the records say you were born at St. Catherine.”
“Yes.”
“And Riverside has records.”
“Yes.”
“Was I actually transferred?”
“I don't know.”
Dad looked ashamed.
“I should have found out.”
“Why didn't you?”
“Because your mother showed me paperwork.”
“What paperwork?”
“A transfer authorization.”
“Was it real?”
“I don't know.”
I looked at the message again.
Ask your father what happened the night you were born.
Maybe whoever sent it knew Dad had never seen me.
Maybe they knew the records had changed.
“What happened after Riverside?”
Dad's jaw tightened.
“Three days later, your mother brought you home.”
“Did I look sick?”
“No.”
“Did she say where I'd been?”
“She said you needed monitoring.”
“Did you believe her?”
“I wanted to.”
I looked away.
“What did Grandma think?”
“She didn't believe it.”
That made sense.
“What did she do?”
“She started asking questions.”
“What questions?”
“Why the hospital records didn't match. Why your mother had suddenly changed doctors. Why Martin Hale had been involved.”
I looked at him.
“Martin was involved before I was born?”
Dad nodded.
“I didn't know how much.”
“What did Grandma discover?”
“She thought there had been an illegal arrangement involving your birth records.”
“Illegal adoption?”
“Possibly.”
“But you said I was adopted legally.”
“I said your mother told me it was legal.”
I stared at him.
“That isn't the same thing.”
“No.”
“What happened between you and Mom after that?”
“She became determined to keep me away.”
“Because of the adoption?”
“Because she was afraid I would challenge the arrangement.”
I looked at Elena.
“What arrangement?”
“We don't know yet,” she said.
Dad leaned forward.
“There was one more thing.”
“What?”
“Your mother told me something strange the night before you came home.”
“What?”
“She said the baby had changed.”
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“I asked her.”
“What did she say?”
“She laughed and said I was imagining things.”
My stomach turned.
“Did you notice anything different?”
Dad looked at me for a long moment.
“I noticed a birthmark.”
“What about it?”
“The baby had one.”
“Where?”
“Behind the left shoulder.”
I touched my shoulder.
I had a small birthmark there.
“What did it look like?”
“A pale oval.”
I stared at him.
“Mine is still there.”
Dad nodded.
“That is how I knew.”
“Knew what?”
“That you were my child.”
The room went quiet.
I hadn't realized how badly I needed that sentence.
Then Dad added something I wasn't prepared for.
“Your mother had brought me a photograph of you from the hospital.”
“Can I see it?”
“I don't have it.”
“Where is it?”
“Your grandmother kept a copy.”
My heart jumped.
“Where?”
Dad looked toward Elena.
“I think that's what the investigators need to find.”
The next morning, investigators searched Grandma's old records.
They found photographs.
Receipts.
Letters.
And one envelope marked:
MAYA — HOSPITAL.
Inside was a photograph.
I was tiny.
Wrapped in a white blanket.
There was a bracelet around my wrist.
The name printed on it was not Maya.
It said:
Baby Voss.
I stared at the photograph.
Elena leaned closer.
“That's significant.”
“What does Voss mean?”
“It's Elena Voss's surname.”
My hands began shaking.
“Then she really was my birth mother.”
The photograph appeared to confirm it.
But there was another detail.
The date on the photograph was one day earlier than the date on my official birth certificate.
Dad looked at it.
“That isn't possible.”
“It may indicate the certificate was altered,” Elena said.
I looked at the baby in the picture.
“Why would Mom change my birth date?”
“We don't know.”
“Why would anyone?”
Elena didn't answer.
Deputy Collins entered holding another file.
“We found a note from your grandmother.”
He opened it.
It contained one sentence.
The truth about Maya's birth is not the same as the truth about who raised her.
I read it twice.
“What does that mean?”
Dad stared at the words.
“I think your grandmother was trying to separate two questions.”
“Which questions?”
“Who gave birth to you.”
He paused.
“And who your legal parents became.”
I looked at the photograph again.
Baby Voss.
Then my official certificate.
Maya Reed.
Two names.
Two records.
One child.
Me.
That afternoon, the unknown number sent another message.
I showed Elena immediately.
It said:
You are looking in the wrong year.
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Another message followed.
The night you were born was only the beginning.
Then nothing.
Deputy Collins tried tracing the number.
The result came back inconclusive.
But he found something else.
The number had been activated only six days earlier.
The same day Mom returned from Hawaii.
That meant whoever sent the messages had been waiting.
Or watching.
And they had decided to speak only after the investigation began.
Click here to continue reading: PART 10: Investigators Found the Missing Year in My Records, and One Date Suggested My Mother Had Been Preparing for This Long Before Hawaii
She Said I Was Staying With Friends, But By the Third Night I Realized I Was Completely Alone
Part 9 of 20
