Chapter 25: The Vital Records

Elena sat in the back of the Subaru, watching Mia sleep. The rain had stopped, leaving the Vermont dawn gray and quiet. They hadn't gone to the Trustee immediately. David insisted they wait until business hours, until he could verify the man wasn't on Vargas's payroll too.

"He's an old-school lawyer," David had said. "A stickler. But money changes people. We need to be sure."

Elena had used the burner phone David provided to call the Connecticut Department of Health. She needed to close the loop on Sarah Vance. She needed to know exactly how deep the fabrication went before she walked into a lawyer's office and accused her husband of inventing a human being.

The hold music was a tinny, distorted version of Vivaldi. Elena watched the fog curl around the Paper Trail's sign.

"Department of Vital Records, this is Janice."

"Hi, Janice," Elena said, her voice steady. "I'm calling about a death certificate search I requested yesterday. My name is Elena Vance."

"One moment, let me pull up your query." Keyboard clatter. "Ah, yes. Sarah Vance. Date of death 2003."

"Or 2002," Elena added. "Or 2004. I need to be thorough."

"Ms. Vance, I ran a comprehensive search of the state database. I also checked the national index for cross-referencing. There is no death record for a Sarah Vance matching your parameters."

"What about maiden names?" Elena asked. "Sarah Miller. Sarah J. Miller."

More typing. "I have a Sarah Miller who died in 1998, but she was eighty-two. And a Sarah Jane Miller in 2005, but that was an infant death."

Elena closed her eyes. "Is it possible... is it possible the record was sealed? Or expunged?"

"Death records are public domain in this state, ma'am. Unless it's a witness protection case or a matter of national security, they don't just disappear."

"Okay," Elena said. "What about birth records? For a child born May 12, 2003. Mia Julianne Vance."

"One moment." The typing was slower this time. "Here we go. Mia Julianne Vance. Born May 12, 2003. Mother: Sarah Vance. Father: Mark Vance."

"Does it list a hospital?"

"Yes. St. Mary's in New Haven."

"Thank you, Janice."

Elena hung up.

St. Mary's. It was a tangible location. A place with archives.

David came out of the back room. He held a steaming mug of coffee. "You look like you're plotting a murder."

"I'm plotting a resurrection," Elena said. "Or rather, an exorcism. The state says Sarah Vance gave birth at St. Mary's in New Haven. But the receipt in the locket says Mia was transported from a clinic in Switzerland."

"The birth certificate is a forgery," David said. "A good one. Vargas has people who can insert records into databases. Backdating a digital file is child's play for them."

"But a physical hospital log?" Elena asked. "The daily admission records from twenty years ago? Those are on microfiche. Harder to fake."

"You want to go back to Connecticut?" David asked, incredulous. "Elena, Vargas is hunting you. He has resources you can't imagine."

"I need leverage," Elena said. "If I go to the Trustee with just a photo and a story, he might think I'm crazy. Or greedy. But if I can prove the birth certificate is fraudulent... if I can prove Sarah Vance never set foot in that hospital... then the entire legal foundation of the Trust collapses."

"And then what?"

"Then Julianne loses her access to the money. And Vargas loses his heir's inheritance."

David looked at her. He saw the shift. She wasn't just a step-mother protecting a child anymore. She was an auditor finding the error that would bankrupt the company.

"I can't go with you," David said. "If I leave, they'll know I'm involved. I have to stay hidden."

"I know," Elena said. "I'll go alone. Mia stays here."

"Mia won't like that."

"Mia doesn't get a vote. Not when her life is the asset."

Elena stood up. She took the car keys from her pocket.

"I'm going to call St. Mary's records department," she said. "I'm going to pretend to be Sarah Vance's sister looking for medical history."

She dialed the number for the hospital.

"Records, this is Brenda."

"Hi, Brenda. My name is... Julia. I'm trying to find my sister's birth records. Sarah Vance. May 12, 2003."

"One moment, hon."

Elena waited. The silence stretched, thin and tight.

"I'm looking at the log for that day," Brenda said. "We had twelve births. Busy day."

"Is Sarah Vance on the list?"

"Vance... Vance..." Brenda hummed. "No, I don't see a Vance. Are you sure about the date?"

"Positive. Maybe under Miller?"

"Miller... nope. No Miller either."

"Are you sure?" Elena pressed. "Maybe it was a late entry? Or a transfer?"

"Ma'am, I'm looking at the physical book. I have a Jones, a Smith, a Rodriguez... wait."

"What?"

"There's an entry here that's been redacted. Black marker right over the name. But the time matches a standard delivery window."

"Redacted?"

"Yeah. It happens sometimes with adoptions or... other situations. But usually, there's a file number."

"Is there a number?"

"Yes. File 03-4492."

Elena froze.

*4492.*

The number on the recurring deposit. The transaction ID for the maintenance payments.

It wasn't a bank code. It was a patient ID.

"Brenda," Elena said, her voice trembling. "Is there any doctor listed next to that file number?"

"Let me check the shift log. Ah, here it is. The attending physician for that block was a visiting specialist. Didn't work here long."

"What was his name?"

"Dr. Aris Thorne."

Elena hung up.

The forgery wasn't digital. It was physical. Vargas hadn't just hacked a database; he had planted a doctor in the hospital to falsify the paper trail in real-time.

But he had left a fingerprint. The number.

*4492.*

Elena looked at David.

"I don't need to go to New Haven," she said. "I have the number. And I know where the rest of the file is."

"Where?" David asked.

"In the only place Mark felt safe enough to keep the original originals," Elena said. "The safety deposit box. Box 404."

"You said Mark took the key."

"He did," Elena said. "But Sarah Jenkins at the bank... she told me something once. About joint holders."

She looked at her wedding ring.

"If I'm listed as a spouse on the account, I don't need a key to drill the box. I just need a death certificate."

David stared at her. "But Mark isn't dead."

Elena smiled. It was a cold, sharp expression.

"No," she said. "But Sarah Vance is. And if I can't find her death certificate