Chapter 16 - Twenty-Nine Weeks
The hospital team worked quickly and spoke clearly.
They monitored the contractions, checked for complications, and explained what they were doing before each examination.
I wanted guarantees.
They offered careful medicine instead.
The contractions slowed, but Dr.
Ortiz told me the next days mattered.
My daughter's heartbeat remained reassuring, and I held on to that sound.
Alex stayed in the family waiting area while hospital security reviewed the protective order and updated access restrictions.
Nobody assumed Trent would come.
Nobody dismissed the possibility either.
When Hannah arrived, she told me police were trying to locate him for questioning and that I should avoid speculating about his movements.
Trent had been seen leaving a hotel, but the report had not been verified.
I stared at the ceiling and wondered how one person could have occupied so much of my world that even his absence felt like a threat.
Nicole's attorney contacted prosecutors again.
She offered additional information about Richard's files in exchange for consideration regarding her own conduct.
Whether she would receive anything was for others to decide.
I no longer measured justice by how frightened Nicole looked.
I measured it by whether the truth would survive scrutiny.
On the second night, a security officer reported that a man matching Trent's description had appeared near a hospital parking entrance and left when challenged.
The description was too general for identification.
Alex asked whether he should stand guard outside my door.
I told him I needed him rested, not exhausted and furious.
He returned the next morning with oatmeal, a clean sweater, and the stuffed rabbit retrieved during the supervised property visit after investigators released it.
The rabbit had been photographed, bagged, and checked before it reached me.
I placed it beside my pillow.
In the afternoon, I felt Grace move strongly enough that I could see my stomach shift beneath the blanket.
Alex watched in astonishment.
“That's my niece,” he whispered.
For one extraordinary minute the legal case and the threats disappeared.
Then Hannah called.
Trent had been located.
He had not fled the state.
He had been meeting privately with a person who worked for the lender handling the disputed home-equity loan.
Investigators were reviewing why.
I turned toward the window.
If Trent was still trying to control the paper trail, he hadn't understood the most important change.
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I was no longer alone inside his version of events.
