Chapter 4

"November eighth was the fire."

Opal's voice stayed level.

"I was still in the hospital on the tenth."

Etta stared at the page.

"Maybe she got the date wrong."

The deputy did not answer for her.

"Do you have those hospital records?"

Opal took out her phone.

"My lawyer scanned everything."

"Every report we could get."

Etta looked up.

"You had a lawyer?"

"I've had several."

"They told me to stop looking."

Opal opened a folder labeled ETTA.

Rows of dated files filled the screen.

"Why didn't you?" Etta asked.

Opal rested her burned hand on her knee.

"They never let me see her."

"The casket was closed."

"I couldn't make that be enough."

She handed the phone to the deputy.

The hospital discharge summary covered ten days.

An operation.

Smoke injuries.

Burn treatment.

On November tenth, Opal had been heavily sedated.

Her right hand had been bandaged.

The deputy compared that note with the signature.

"This needs investigation."

She looked at Etta.

"It isn't a court order."

"It doesn't establish what Corinne told you."

Etta folded her hands beneath Wes's blanket.

"What does establish it?"

"We start with the people who signed it."

The deputy stepped outside to call her supervisor.

Opal stayed in her chair.

Across the room, Wes's breathing slowed.

Etta eased him onto a pillow.

Then she pulled a second envelope from her bag.

"I asked Dr. Mercer's old office for my records."

"For my own medical history."

"They sent these last week."

"Corinne said they mixed up two patients."

Opal waited while she opened it.

There were vaccination records.

Childhood visits.

A referral under the name Etta Lane.

On the earliest page, the name was different.

Etta Vance.

Four months old.

Etta touched the typed name.

"I brought this home and asked about it."

"She took the packet."

"I got it back while she was out."

"Then I brought Wes here."

The room door opened before Opal could answer.

An older woman stood beside the deputy.

Her wool coat was buttoned to her throat.

Opal rose.

"Corinne."

The woman stopped.

Her eyes moved to Opal's hand.

Then to the keyring.

Then to Wes asleep on the bed.

"What have you been telling her?"

The deputy kept the door open.

"She's asking about her records."

Corinne held a purse against her stomach.

"Etta, get your things."

"No," Etta said.

The word barely carried.

Corinne tried again.

"You're sick."

"You're upsetting your son."

Etta glanced at Wes.

For a moment, her hand moved toward the bags.

Then Opal sat back down.

"I'm not asking you to choose anybody."

"I'm asking you to keep the papers."

Corinne stepped toward the bed.

The deputy moved into her path.

"She's an adult."

"She decides where she goes."

Corinne looked at the manila envelope.

"That woman signed her child away."

"She regretted it."

"That's what this is."

The deputy asked,

"Why did Dr. Mercer certify the baby dead?"

Corinne's purse clasp clicked beneath her thumb.

"There were mistakes after the fire."

"People were upset."

"But you weren't confused about who I was."

Opal held her gaze.

"You sat beside my hospital bed."

"You helped arrange a funeral."

Corinne turned to Etta.

"I was the one who stayed."

Etta looked down at the medical packet.

"You stayed under another name."

No one spoke.

The heater rattled beneath the window.

Then Etta pulled out the first examination page.

There was a handwritten line at the bottom.

A location.

A time.

The deputy returned to the doorway.

"Dr. Mercer has agreed to speak with us."

"He's retired, but he's still nearby."

Etta handed her the page.

"What does this part mean?"

The deputy read it once.

Then she asked Opal when the alarm came in.

"Ten-fourteen that night."

"I have the fire report."

The deputy looked at Corinne.

The doctor had examined Etta in Corinne's kitchen four hours before the fire.