Chapter 2 - Jane Doe Gave Birth
I woke to a ceiling I did not recognize.
For several seconds, I thought the mountain had been a nightmare.
Then I tried to move.
Pain answered from almost every part of my body.
My right wrist was wrapped in a rigid brace.
Bandages crossed my ribs.
An IV line disappeared into my arm.
My throat felt raw.
And my stomach was suddenly flat.
I looked down.
Panic hit before I could form a sentence.
"My baby."
A nurse sitting near the door stood immediately.
"You're awake."
"Where is my baby?"
I pushed at the blankets.
The room tilted.
"Where is he?"
The nurse crossed the room quickly.
"Mrs..."
She stopped herself.
"Jane."
"Please don't try to stand."
"Where is my son?"
My voice broke on the last word.
The nurse pressed a call button.
"He is alive."
Everything inside me collapsed at once.
I covered my face with my good hand.
The sob that came out of me sounded like it belonged to someone else.
"He's alive?"
"Yes."
"He was delivered by emergency C-section six hours ago."
"He had trouble breathing at first, but he responded well."
"He's in the neonatal unit."
I stared at her.
"Can I see him?"
"As soon as the doctor clears you to move."
I began crying again.
The nurse waited quietly until my breathing steadied.
Then a woman in a dark blue suit entered the room.
She was in her forties, with brown hair pulled into a low knot and the kind of expression that revealed nothing unless she wanted it to.
Luke walked in behind her.
Seeing him made the mountain real again.
"You made it," he said.
"So did he."
I reached toward him without thinking.
Luke squeezed my hand once.
Then he nodded toward the woman.
"This is Special Agent Rachel Sloan with the Colorado Bureau of Investigation."
Rachel stepped closer.
"Mrs. Carter, before anything else, I need you to know that your survival is currently being treated as restricted information."
"The hospital chart lists you under an emergency alias."
"Only a small group knows who you are."
I looked toward the door.
"Michael?"
"He has not been told."
"Does he think the baby died too?"
Rachel paused.
"At the moment, he has publicly reported both of you missing and presumed dead."
"Privately, his behavior is more troubling."
I remembered the words drifting down from the ridge.
For fifty million dollars, she better be.
"Ashley was there."
Rachel pulled a chair beside my bed.
"Tell me everything you remember."
So I did.
I told her about the drive from Denver.
I told her Michael had insisted we take one last trip before the baby arrived.
I told her the argument had started over money, although now I understood it had been manufactured.
I told her how he kept moving closer to the overlook while accusing me of controlling him through my family wealth.
I told her I had turned away because the wind was blowing snow into my eyes.
Then his hands hit my shoulders.
I told her how calm his face had been when I looked up from the ledge.
I told her about Ashley.
I repeated their conversation word for word.
Rachel wrote almost nothing down.
She simply listened.
When I finished, she asked one question.
"Did Michael know exactly how much the policy was worth?"
"Yes."
"He arranged it."
"Did you personally apply for the policy?"
I hesitated.
"I signed documents."
"I thought they were part of our estate plan."
Rachel and Luke exchanged a look.
"Why?"
Rachel leaned back.
"Because Michael Carter contacted the insurer at nine nineteen this morning."
My mouth went dry.
"I fell last night."
"Correct."
"He filed notice of your death before search teams had officially suspended recovery efforts."
I stared at her.
"They haven't even found a body."
"He told the insurer that recovery was impossible because you had fallen into a ravine during a severe storm."
"He also provided the name of an attorney who would be handling what he called an expedited accidental-death claim."
I laughed once.
It was not humor.
It was disbelief sharp enough to hurt.
"He pushed me off a cliff and started paperwork before sunrise."
Rachel's eyes hardened.
"That's what it looks like."
Luke stepped toward the window.
"There's something else."
I looked at him.
"When our team went back to the ridge after the weather cleared, we found that one of the park's trail cameras had been disabled."
"How?"
"Power cable was cut."
"Cleanly."
"Not storm damage."
Rachel continued.
"A ranger says the camera was functioning three days ago."
My skin went cold despite the heated room.
"Michael knew about cameras."
"He researched the trail for weeks."
Rachel nodded slowly.
"Then this was planned."
The door opened again.
A doctor entered with a tablet in his hand.
"Mrs. Carter, your son is stable enough for a brief visit."
Every other thought disappeared.
They moved me into a wheelchair because my pelvis was bruised but not fractured.
Every bump in the hallway hurt.
I did not care.
The neonatal unit was dim and quiet.
Machines hummed behind glass.
The nurse rolled me beside a clear bassinet under a warming light.
My son was tiny compared to how enormous he had felt inside me.
A soft cap covered his dark hair.
A thin tube rested beneath his nose.
His fist was curled beside his cheek.
I stopped breathing.
"Oh, sweetheart."
The nurse opened the side of the bassinet so I could reach in.
I touched one finger to his palm.
His hand closed around it.
That was the moment I decided Michael would not destroy anything else.
Not my son.
Not my name.
Not my life.
I had spent years smoothing over Michael's anger because I thought marriage meant compromise.
I had explained away his jealousy because I thought love required patience.
I had ignored the little cruelties because he always followed them with an apology and a gift.
Now I understood those apologies had never been regret.
They were maintenance.
He had been maintaining access to me.
To my money.
To the policy.
To the life he wanted after mine ended.
I looked at Rachel.
"I want to help you catch him."
She studied me carefully.
"The safest thing would be to remain hidden while we build the case."
"I'm not asking to go home."
"I'm asking what you need from me."
Rachel folded her arms.
"Patience."
"He thinks he won."
"People who think they've won often stop being careful."
Luke's phone vibrated.
He looked down at the screen.
Then his face changed.
"What?" Rachel asked.
Luke turned the phone toward her.
"Local news."
A photograph filled the screen.
It was my wedding portrait.
Under it was a headline.
DENVER BUSINESSWOMAN AND UNBORN CHILD PRESUMED DEAD AFTER ROCKY MOUNTAIN FALL.
Below the headline was a quote from Michael.
My loving wife and our son were my entire world.
I stared at those words until they blurred.
Then the video embedded under the story began playing automatically.
Michael stood outside our house wrapped in a dark coat.
Snowflakes landed in his hair.
His eyes were red.
But I knew that face.
He was performing.
A reporter asked when he had last seen me.
Michael lowered his head.
"I tried to reach her."
"I tried everything."
"But the storm took her from me."
Behind him, barely visible through the open front door, stood Ashley.
She was wearing my cashmere robe.
My robe.
Inside my house.
Less than twelve hours after Michael tried to kill me.
My son squeezed my finger again.
I did not cry this time.
I looked at Rachel.
"Keep me dead."
Rachel's expression sharpened.
"For how long?"
May you like
"Until he says enough to bury himself."
