Chapter 11 - Seven Mothers
The police investigation expanded overnight.
Seven families were contacted.
Three women agreed to speak immediately.
The first was Hannah Price.
Two years earlier, she gave birth at Briar Glen after a complicated delivery.
Her husband’s parents claimed she became paranoid.
Dr. Rusk recommended psychiatric observation.
Victor Lane helped the grandparents obtain emergency custody.
Hannah spent four days in a behavioral health unit.
By the time she was discharged, her daughter had been moved to another county.
It took nine months to regain shared custody.
The second woman, Carissa Bell, cried through most of her interview.
She had been told her panic after an emergency C-section was evidence of postpartum psychosis.
She believed the doctors.
For months, she believed she had been dangerous.
“I never threatened my baby.”
She looked directly at Leah.
“I kept waiting to remember doing something terrible.”
She never had.
Because it never happened.
The third mother, Emily Soto, had never regained custody.
Her sister became permanent guardian after an emergency petition.
Emily had moved away.
“I thought nobody would believe me.”
Leah understood that sentence better than anything else.
The same pattern appeared every time.
A frightened mother.
A powerful relative.
A psychiatric concern.
A hospital record.
An emergency petition.
Then distance.
Money.
Exhaustion.
Silence.
But Doreen’s role remained unclear.
She had not personally benefited from every case.
Simone provided the answer.
Her husband’s private files showed payments from a foundation.
CARVER FAMILY WELLNESS INITIATIVE.
Doreen chaired it.
The foundation paid legal fees.
Clinical consultation expenses.
“Family stabilization grants.”
Detective Mills stared at the documents.
“She funded the entire network.”
Mae looked horrified.
“She called it helping families.”
Simone shook her head.
“She called mothers obstacles.”
Leah looked at Caleb sleeping in the hospital crib.
He was barely two days old.
Doreen had already reduced him to a trust beneficiary.
A financial event.
A piece of property to control.
Then Nathan asked to speak with Leah.
She almost refused.
Detective Mills suggested listening.
He sat across from Leah in a consultation room.
No touching.
No pretending.
Nathan looked older than he had forty-eight hours earlier.
“I know where she might go.”
“Doreen?”
“Yes.”
“Tell the police.”
“I did.”
“Then why are you here?”
His eyes filled.
“Because I need you to know I didn’t want this.”
Leah felt nothing.
“You signed the papers.”
“I was weak.”
“That is not the same as innocent.”
“I know.”
For once, he did not argue.
He reached into his pocket.
The officer beside him immediately moved.
Nathan slowly placed a small brass key on the table.
“My mother gave me this after my father died.”
“What does it open?”
“A safe-deposit box.”
“Where?”
“Downtown.”
“What’s inside?”
“I don’t know.”
Leah stared at him.
May you like
Nathan swallowed.
“But Mom told me that if anything ever went wrong at Briar Glen, I was supposed to empty it before the police found out.”
