Chapter 5 - MARCH FOURTEENTH
I read Valerie’s message six times.
My mother took the phone from my hand.
“No.”
Her voice was flat.
Not denial.
Warning.
“Do not assume what she wants you to assume.”
“She said baby.”
“She also looked at you from your husband’s arms like she had won something.”
That image returned immediately.
Valerie pressed against Alex’s shoulder.
Her eyes over his uniform collar.
Victory.
My mother placed the phone on the blanket.
“She wants control of the next thing you learn.”
She was right.
That irritated me because I wanted anger more than caution.
At 6:40 the next morning, I asked my nurse for paper.
By seven, I had written every unexplained absence Alex had made during my pregnancy.
March 14.
April 2.
April 19.
May 11.
June 3.
Several late-night calls.
Two overnight “station coverage” shifts.
A Sunday he vanished for six hours after Valerie texted him.
I had always believed love meant not interrogating someone you trusted.
Now my trust looked less like kindness and more like free access.
Mark came by shortly before eight.
He had dark circles under his eyes.
“You should be home sleeping.”
“So should you.”
I almost smiled.
He handed me a sealed envelope.
“What’s this?”
“A copy of my preliminary statement.”
“You can give me that?”
“The portion that concerns your condition and extraction.”
I opened it.
At 21:04, Lieutenant Davis entered elevator car.
Subject Davis visually scanned occupants.
Subject made eye contact with pregnant adult female located rear left.
I stopped reading.
The words blurred.
Mark waited.
“How long did he look at me?”
“Maybe two seconds.”
“And then?”
“He said Valerie’s name.”
I nodded.
That was enough.
Mark shifted awkwardly.
“There’s something else.”
“What?”
“Your notes.”
“My elevator notes?”
He nodded.
“The incident commander collected them as part of the report.”
“Okay.”
“They show you identified the elderly man as possible cardiac distress and yourself as pregnant with decreasing fetal movement.”
My chest tightened.
“Alex could see them?”
“They were near the front after we moved people.”
“But before he entered?”
Mark hesitated.
“Yes.”
Something worse settled into place.
Alex had not simply seen me.
He might have seen written evidence that I was medically deteriorating.
My phone vibrated again.
Valerie.
I opened the message.
March 14 wasn’t about pregnancy.
Not mine.
I stared at it.
A photograph followed.
Alex sat in a hospital chair beside Valerie.
His hand was wrapped around hers.
The timestamp was March 14, 11:02 a.m.
May you like
Below the photo, Valerie wrote one final message.
ASK HIM WHOSE BABY WE WERE THERE TO SEE.
