Chapter 10 - Elena Marlowe
Elena Marlowe was dead.
Officially.
Rebecca found a death certificate issued seven weeks earlier.
Cause of death.
Automobile accident.
Location.
Forty miles outside Denver.
The problem was that no body had ever been recovered.
The vehicle had burned.
Identification had been based on personal belongings.
Elena had also been a patient at the same fertility clinic Claire used.
I drove there with Rebecca.
The director initially refused to discuss anything.
Then Rebecca showed federal credentials.
The director’s face changed.
Records revealed that Claire’s final embryo transfer had failed.
She had not been pregnant.
Elena Marlowe had.
“What relationship did Elena have with us?”
The director looked uncomfortable.
“She was contracted as a gestational carrier.”
I nearly fell out of the chair.
“For us?”
“Yes.”
“I never approved a surrogate.”
The director stared at the records.
“There is your signature.”
Forgery.
Again.
Rebecca leaned forward.
“Who handled the arrangement?”
The director checked the file.
“Dr. Marcus Vale.”
Of course.
Elena had carried my biological twins.
Claire had faked her pregnancy while Elena lived in a rented apartment outside town.
After the birth, Elena vanished.
Claire brought the babies home.
I remembered the strange weeks before delivery.
Claire refusing photographs.
Claire complaining of swelling.
Claire wearing loose dresses.
Claire saying she needed privacy.
Every memory rearranged itself.
Then the director found something else.
“Elena requested legal counseling.”
“When?”
“Two weeks before delivery.”
“Why?”
“She wanted to terminate the surrogacy arrangement.”
Rebecca frowned.
“Terminate how?”
“She claimed she had discovered irregularities.”
“What irregularities?”
The director hesitated.
“She believed the intended mother planned to take the children abroad.”
My chest tightened.
“Where is Elena?”
“I don’t know.”
Rebecca looked at me.
Claire had forged surrogacy documents.
Elena disappeared.
And now Claire was planning to move my children forty minutes after my supposed death.
We left the clinic through the rear exit.
My phone rang.
Claire.
I answered.
“Hey.”
Her voice sounded cheerful.
“Where are you?”
“At work.”
A pause.
“No, you’re not.”
My body went still.
“What?”
Claire laughed softly.
“I’m standing in your office.”
My mouth dried.
“Daniel, sweetheart.”
May you like
Her voice became quieter.
“Why is your computer still cold?”
