Chapter 7 - Samuel
Jonathan read the sentence until the words blurred.
“This makes no sense.”
Maya stood beside him.
“What happened when Samuel died?”
“They brought us to the neonatal unit.”
“Did you see him?”
Jonathan closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
“Were you certain it was Samuel?”
“He was two days old.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
Jonathan looked sick.
“No.”
Noah whispered:
“Mom thought they switched him?”
Jonathan looked at his son.
“I don’t know.”
But Evelyn clearly had.
Detectives reopened the hospital records.
Samuel Hawthorne had been born at 2:14 a.m.
Premature but stable enough to breathe with assistance.
Twelve hours later, his condition deteriorated rapidly.
At 4:06 the following morning, he was declared dead.
There was one problem.
The hospital’s archived footprint card did not match the print taken at birth.
A technician initially called it likely clerical error.
Maya did not.
Neither did Jonathan.
Further records revealed another premature male infant had been born on the same floor that night.
The second child’s mother was listed as Natalie Reed.
Her baby supposedly survived.
But Natalie Reed did not exist in any accessible public record.
The address on file belonged to an abandoned building.
No insurance information.
Cash billing.
Jonathan stared at the report.
“You’re saying somebody created a fake mother?”
The detective answered:
“We’re saying the record is suspicious.”
Dr. Cole’s name appeared once.
Not as a psychiatrist.
As a research coordinator.
Thirteen years earlier, before establishing his private practice, Adrian Cole had worked with a neonatal pharmaceutical trial funded partly by Hawthorne Medical.
Jonathan stood.
“My company?”
“Your father’s at the time.”
Maya remembered Evelyn’s theory about unauthorized drug testing.
Perhaps it started here.
Jonathan asked:
“What drug?”
“An experimental respiratory stabilizer.”
“Was Samuel enrolled?”
“No consent form has been found.”
Jonathan went pale.
“Then why is Cole in his file?”
Nobody knew yet.
Police obtained a warrant for Cole’s former research records.
Many had been destroyed under routine retention policy.
Others were missing.
But one surviving spreadsheet contained coded patient numbers.
Two premature infants from St. Catherine’s.
Patient N-14.
Patient N-15.
One received the experimental medication.
One received standard care.
Jonathan stared.
“Which was Samuel?”
The codes did not include names.
Then Maya noticed the times.
N-14 born at 2:14.
Samuel’s birth time.
Jonathan stopped breathing.
The experimental medication had been given to N-14 without an attached consent form.
Four doses.
The final dose less than six hours before Samuel deteriorated.
Noah looked toward his father.
“Did they kill him?”
Jonathan could not answer.
The detective said carefully:
“We cannot conclude that yet.”
Jonathan stood and walked away.
Maya followed.
In the hallway, he slammed his palm against the wall.
“I funded that company.”
“You were twenty-nine.”
“I sat on the board.”
“Did you know?”
“No.”
“Then stop turning guilt into evidence.”
He looked at her.
She continued.
“That is exactly what people like Celeste need you to do. Become so ashamed you stop thinking.”
Jonathan breathed slowly.
Maya pointed toward the investigation room.
“Think.”
He returned.
The next file contained the trial’s supervising executive.
Richard Hawthorne.
Jonathan’s father.
Noah’s grandfather.
Dead for six years.
Jonathan whispered:
“My father knew.”
The detective corrected him.
“Maybe.”
Jonathan stared.
Maya almost smiled.
Her words returning to him.
Maybe.
Evidence first.
Then another record was found.
A private payment issued two weeks after Samuel’s death.
Recipient:
Dr. Adrian Cole.
Authorized by:
Evelyn Hawthorne.
May you like
Jonathan stared at his dead wife’s signature.
Now even Evelyn’s role was no longer simple.
