Chapter 2: The Missing Years
Claire denied the second tablet existed.
She denied it in the foyer.
She denied it to the police.
And forty minutes later, sitting beneath the fluorescent lights of the local station, she denied it again.
"Ava is confused," Claire said.
My daughter sat beside me beneath my coat, her fingers wrapped around a cup of hot chocolate she hadn't touched.
Detective Elena Brooks leaned across the interview table.
"Mrs. Mercer, your daughter described the device specifically.""
"Children imagine things.""
Ava looked down.
I felt her hand tighten around mine.
Brooks noticed.
"What does Ava imagine?""
Claire folded her arms.
"Her father encourages this behavior.""
I almost stood.
Brooks raised one hand toward me.
Then she turned back to Claire.
"We have video.""
"You have selectively recorded household discipline.""
"Your husband attacked a security officer tonight.""
"He panicked because armed men entered our home.""
"They identified themselves.""
Claire's jaw tightened.
Brooks slid a photograph across the table.
It showed Daniel being escorted toward a patrol vehicle.
"The second tablet.""
"There isn't one.""
Brooks stared at her for several seconds.
"Then you won't object to investigators searching the property under the warrant we're obtaining.""
For the first time, Claire's composure cracked.
Barely.
But I saw it.
So did Brooks.
Claire stood.
"I want my attorney.""
The interview ended.
Ava and I were taken to another room.
When the door closed, I crouched beside her.
"You aren't going back there tonight.""
"Really?""
"Really.""
"What about tomorrow?""
The question hurt more than anything I'd seen on those videos.
"We're going to make sure you're safe.""
She studied my face.
"Mom says judges don't believe you.""
My stomach twisted.
"What else does Mom say about me?""
Ava hesitated.
"That you left us.""
"I never left you.""
"She said you didn't want a baby.""
I stared at her.
"Ava.""
"She said you only started visiting because Grandma made you.""
"No.""
My voice broke.
"No, sweetheart.""
Ava looked frightened by my reaction.
I forced myself to slow down.
"I wanted you from the moment I knew you existed.""
"Then why weren't you there when I was little?""
I had no answer an eleven-year-old should have needed to hear.
Because I had tried.
For years.
Claire had moved after our separation. Hearings had been delayed. Allegations had been filed and withdrawn. Visits had been restricted, restored, then restricted again.
By the time Ava was four, I had been reduced to supervised contact.
At six, I finally regained regular weekends.
I had always believed it was a vicious custody battle.
Now I wondered whether it had been something else.
At 3:17 a.m., Detective Brooks returned.
She wasn't alone.
A gray-haired investigator entered carrying a document envelope.
"We found the second tablet," Brooks said.
Ava squeezed my hand.
"Where?""
"Locked inside Mrs. Mercer's office.""
Claire had lied.
Again.
Brooks sat opposite us.
"There were recordings on it. We'll need time to examine them.""
"What kind?""
She glanced at Ava.
"That's a conversation for later.""
I understood.
Not in front of my daughter.
The older investigator placed the envelope on the table.
"But the search uncovered something else.""
He introduced himself as Thomas Hale, an investigator attached to the county family-court unit.
"What?"" I asked.
"Old custody records.""
"I have copies.""
"Not these.""
Hale opened the envelope.
Inside were photocopied documents bearing dates from eleven years earlier.
The year Ava was born.
"Mrs. Mercer retained documents that don't match the certified versions in the court archive.""
My pulse accelerated.
"What doesn't match?""
"One field.""
He turned a page toward me.
It was an old custody petition.
I'd seen versions of it before.
My name.
Claire's name.
Ava's date of birth.
Addresses.
Signatures.
Then Hale pointed toward a box near the bottom.
PATERNITY ACKNOWLEDGMENT.
The signature beneath it looked like mine.
But it wasn't.
"That's forged.""
"We believe so.""
I looked at him.
"Why would Claire forge my signature acknowledging paternity? I never denied Ava was mine.""
Hale exchanged a glance with Brooks.
"That's the problem.""
He placed another document beside it.
This one had come from the sealed court archive.
Same form.
Same date.
Different entry.
My name wasn't listed in the paternity field.
Another man's was.
I stared at it.
"Who is Nathan Cole?""
Ava looked up.
Brooks immediately covered the document.
But it was too late.
"I don't know anyone named Nathan Cole.""
Hale leaned back.
"Neither did we.""
"What does that mean?""
"It means somebody changed the paperwork after it was originally filed.""
"Claire?""
"We don't know yet.""
I looked toward the hallway where my ex-wife was meeting her attorney.
Eleven years of court hearings.
Eleven years of Claire insisting I was unstable, unreliable, intrusive.
Eleven years of fighting for time with a child I loved more than anything.
"Why would she do this?""
Hale didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he removed one final sheet from the envelope.
Unlike the others, it had a red stamp across the top.
SEALED BY COURT ORDER.
"There was a related proceeding shortly after Ava's birth," he said.
"I was never told about another proceeding.""
"According to the archive, you weren't supposed to know.""
My throat tightened.
"Who sealed it?""
"A family-court judge.""
"Why?""
Hale looked at Ava.
Then at me.
"Because someone submitted a confession.""
The room seemed to shrink.
"What confession?""
"We haven't opened the original yet. We need judicial authorization.""
"When?""
"Emergency hearing. This morning.""
Ava leaned against me.
I put my arm around her.
Hale gathered the papers, but one corner of the sealed-file index remained visible.
There were three names printed beneath the case number.
Claire Mercer.
Nathan Cole.
And a third name.
A name I knew.
A name belonging to someone who had stood beside me in the hospital on the day Ava was born.
I grabbed the page before Hale could cover it.
May you like
My voice came out almost soundless.
"Why is my father's name in this file?""
