Chapter 5 - Buried AliveVictoria read the sentence again.
I DIDN'T DIE. I WAS BURIED ALIVE.
Her hands shook.
She turned the photograph over.
Eleanor was smiling at the camera.
The baby was wrapped in white.
Rosalind’s face was barely visible.
Victoria looked at Rosie.
The resemblance was now impossible to ignore.
The eyes.
The chin.
The tiny crease between her eyebrows.
Even the way she tilted her head when confused.
Victoria had spent eight years telling herself grief had distorted memory.
Now she realized grief had been the only thing keeping her from seeing the truth.
She called the number written on the envelope.
A disconnected line.
Then another.
Same result.
Charles entered the room.
“Give me that.”
“No.”
“Victoria, please.”
“You knew Eleanor survived.”
“I suspected.”
“Liar.”
“I thought she was dead.”
“Then why did she leave this?”
“I don't know.”
Victoria lifted the photograph.
“You know exactly what happened.”
Charles stared at it.
His face changed.
“Where did you find that?”
“In your house.”
“It was hidden.”
“By Eleanor.”
Charles walked toward her.
“Victoria, listen carefully. You are in danger.”
She stepped back.
“From you?”
“From everyone.”
“Who?”
“I can't tell you.”
“Then I will find out.”
“You may not survive that search.”
Victoria's eyes narrowed.
“You should remember something.”
“What?”
“I survived burying my daughter.”
She walked past him.
“I'm not afraid of graves anymore.”
By dawn, Victoria had contacted a private investigator.
His name was Daniel Cross.
He had once worked federal financial crimes.
He arrived at nine in the morning.
Victoria gave him everything.
The ledger.
The photograph.
The hospital bracelet.
The drawing.
The note.
Daniel studied each item silently.
“Do you have access to the hospital records?”
“Not anymore.”
“Your husband?”
“Yes.”
“Your father?”
“Dead.”
“Dr. Bell?”
“Missing.”
“Eleanor Hart?”
“Supposedly dead.”
Daniel looked at Rosie.
“She's the key.”
Victoria nodded.
“What do you need?”
“Her fingerprints.”
Victoria frowned.
“Why?”
“To compare them with old pediatric records.”
“From eight years ago?”
“Exactly.”
He looked at Rosie’s face.
“If she's who you think she is, there should be records somewhere that were never destroyed.”
Rosie watched him nervously.
Daniel crouched.
“I'm not going to hurt you.”
Rosie nodded.
He smiled gently.
“Do you remember a hospital bracelet?”
She pointed to the evidence bag.
“That one?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
Daniel glanced at Victoria.
Rosie shook her head.
“That isn't mine.”
Victoria froze.
“You said it was.”
“No.”
She approached carefully.
“Then whose is it?”
Rosie looked at the bracelet.
“Another baby's.”
Daniel's expression sharpened.
“What other baby?”
Rosie looked at him.
“The baby they put in my coffin.”
Silence.
Victoria felt the room tilt.
“What did you say?”
Rosie continued.
“Mama told me they buried another baby.”
Daniel stood.
“What did she tell you?”
“That the baby was already dead.”
Victoria could barely breathe.
“So when I buried Rosalind…”
Rosie nodded.
“It wasn't me.”
Daniel looked toward Charles's study.
“Someone switched the bodies.”
Victoria whispered:
“But why?”
Rosie answered before Daniel could.
“Because they wanted everybody to think I was dead.”
Daniel stared at her.
“Who?”
Rosie hesitated.
Then she spoke.
“Your husband.”
Victoria felt her heart stop.
“Charles?”
Rosie nodded.
“He told Mama to give him the baby.”
“Why?”
“He said the baby was worth more alive than dead.”
Victoria stared at the child.
“Worth more?”
Rosie nodded.
“Mama said he wanted something the baby would inherit.”
The inheritance.
The trust.
The evidence.
Daniel looked at Victoria.
“This isn't about grief anymore.”
“What is it about?”
“Control.”
Victoria sat down.
“Can you prove she is my daughter?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Maybe a day.”
Victoria closed her eyes.
For eight years she had dreamed of hearing one word.
Daughter.
Now that word was close enough to touch.
Then Daniel's phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed.
“Where?”
Victoria stood.
“What happened?”
Daniel hung up.
“They found Dr. Bell.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
Daniel looked directly at Charles’s study.
“In the old Hale property.”
Victoria felt a chill.
“Is he willing to talk?”
Daniel shook his head.
“He already did.”
“What did he say?”
Daniel's voice dropped.
“He said the woman you buried eight years ago was not Eleanor.”
Victoria froze.
“Then who was she?”
May you like
Daniel looked at Charles.
“Your sister.”
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