Chapter 5 - The doctor I had never met
I read my own name three times.
Emily Grayson Vance.
The evaluation claimed I suffered from postpartum psychosis.
Three weeks before I had even given birth.
“That’s impossible.”
Ortiz nodded.
“It gets worse.”
The physician was Dr. Adrian Cole.
I had never met him.
Yet the document described interviews that supposedly occurred in his office.
Dates.
Symptoms.
Statements I had never made.
It recommended that Marcus become Lily’s primary caregiver immediately after birth.
The plan had existed before Marcus put his hands around my throat.
Maybe the bruises weren’t the beginning.
Maybe they were what happened when he believed the ending had already been arranged.
Dad read the report.
Then asked:
“Who paid this doctor?”
Ortiz didn’t know yet.
I did.
“Check Vance Strategic Holdings.”
Dad looked at me.
For years, Marcus had kept me away from family finances.
But I had worked bookkeeping jobs before our marriage.
When his behavior changed during pregnancy, I began tracing accounts.
One company repeatedly paid consultants with vague descriptions.
Dr. Cole’s clinic appeared twice.
Ortiz made a call.
Twenty minutes later, she returned.
“You were right.”
Harrison’s company had paid him.
Dad’s jaw tightened.
Then another problem surfaced.
My evidence folder.
The physical one hidden at home.
Marcus knew nothing about the copies.
But it contained original handwritten notes and one old letter from Harrison.
I needed it.
Dad volunteered to retrieve it.
Ortiz refused to let him go alone.
When they reached my house, the front door was open.
Nothing obvious had been stolen.
Except my desk had been emptied.
Marcus’s clothes remained.
Jewelry remained.
Electronics remained.
Only documents were missing.
Someone knew exactly what to take.
Then Dad noticed something outside.
A black sedan parked two houses away.
It drove off before Ortiz could reach it.
Dad watched the taillights disappear.
Then quietly said:
“I know that car.”
Ortiz looked at him.
“How?”
Dad’s answer frightened her.
“Because Harrison used the same kind of vehicle in Iraq.”
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The story was no longer moving backward through my marriage.
It was moving backward twenty years.
