Chapter 9 - Across the StreetPolice surrounded the building within minutes.
The country searched for her.
Her photograph appeared in airports, train stations, hotels, border checkpoints, and television broadcasts.
Alexander offered a million-dollar reward.
Claire hated the idea at first.
Then hundreds of tips came in.
Most were useless.
One wasn’t.
A gas station employee outside Albany remembered a woman resembling Vanessa traveling with an older man.
The man was Dr. Evan Pike.
Police traced Pike’s car north.
They found it abandoned near Lake George.
Inside were surgical supplies.
Cash.
Two burner phones.
And Claire’s medical records.
Vanessa had obtained everything.
Blood type.
Ultrasound scans.
Hospital charts.
Emergency contacts.
Even signatures.
“She studied you,” Ortiz said.
Claire looked at the files.
“For how long?”
“At least a year.”
That was before Claire became pregnant.
Vanessa’s obsession had started long before the baby.
Alexander blamed himself.
“I should have taken the stalking seriously.”
Claire stopped him.
“You told her to stay away.”
“I should have done more.”
“Like what? Predict she’d build a counterfeit version of my life?”
Alexander said nothing.
Claire touched his face.
“She made these choices.”
The investigation uncovered Vanessa’s childhood.
Her mother had died when Vanessa was eleven.
Her father was emotionally distant and obsessed with social status.
Vanessa learned early that attention came from performance.
Perfect grades.
Perfect clothes.
Perfect friends.
Perfect appearance.
But understanding her history didn’t excuse what she had done.
It only explained why she treated people as interchangeable pieces in a life she believed she deserved.
Meanwhile, Dr. Pike cracked.
He called his attorney.
He wanted immunity.
Police arranged his surrender.
Pike confessed to disabling hospital surveillance.
He admitted giving Vanessa access codes.
He had also helped create fake maternity records.
But he claimed he never knew she planned an attack.
Ortiz didn’t believe him.
Neither did Claire.
Then Pike revealed Vanessa’s destination.
A private lodge near the Canadian border.
Police raided it.
They found evidence Vanessa had been there.
Food still warm.
A fire burning.
No Vanessa.
She escaped less than an hour before officers arrived.
But she left something behind.
An audio recorder.
There were dozens of files.
Vanessa practicing Claire’s voice.
“My name is Claire Holloway.”
“My husband is Alexander.”
“Our daughter was born at—”
Again.
Again.
Again.
Claire listened to only ten seconds before switching it off.
“I don’t want to hear that woman pretend to be me.”
Alexander deleted the local copy.
Police kept the evidence.
Two days later, Claire woke at 3:14 a.m. with severe pain.
She touched Alexander’s shoulder.
“Something’s wrong.”
He woke instantly.
Her contractions were less than four minutes apart.
Dr. Bennett told them to come immediately.
Thirty-two weeks.
Too early.
They rushed to St. Augustine under police escort.
Claire squeezed Alexander’s hand inside the armored SUV.
“I’m scared.”
He kissed her forehead.
“So am I.”
“Excellent reassurance.”
“You married me for honesty.”
“I married you for your apartment.”
He laughed.
She needed that.
They reached the hospital.
Doctors worked for hours to slow labor.
By dawn, contractions weakened.
Their daughter stayed where she belonged.
Claire cried with relief.
Alexander sat beside her, exhausted.
For the first time in weeks, they believed they had won a small battle.
Then a nurse entered.
“There’s someone asking for Mr. Holloway.”
“No visitors,” Alexander said.
“She says it’s your mother.”
Eleanor entered moments later.
She looked different.
No designer suit.
No perfect posture.
Just a frightened mother carrying guilt.
She approached Claire.
“I owe you an apology.”
Claire was too tired for polite lies.
“Yes.”
Eleanor nodded.
“I believed Vanessa because she knew exactly which doubts to exploit.”
Alexander looked at his mother.
Eleanor continued.
“She contacted me for months before the gala. She told me Claire was isolating you from the family.”
Claire frowned.
“She what?”
“She sent edited messages. Photographs. Recordings.”
Alexander stood.
“You never told me.”
“I thought I was protecting you.”
“You were helping her.”
Eleanor’s eyes filled.
“I know.”
She handed Ortiz a phone.
“This is everything Vanessa sent me.”
Among the files was one voice message investigators had never seen.
Vanessa said:
Once Claire is gone, Alexander will be angry. But grief makes people need familiar faces. I can wait.
Claire stared at Eleanor.
“When was that sent?”
Eleanor whispered:
“Three weeks before the gala.”
Vanessa had planned for Claire to disappear before she ever kicked her.
Then Alexander’s phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
A woman breathed softly.
“Alexander.”
His face changed.
Vanessa.
Claire sat upright.
Alexander put the call on speaker.
Ortiz immediately began tracing.
Vanessa laughed.
“You’ve made such a mess.”
Alexander’s voice became icy.
“Where are you?”
“Close.”
“What do you want?”
A pause.
Then Vanessa said:
“The same thing I always wanted.”
Claire interrupted.
“My life?”
Vanessa went silent.
Claire continued.
“You can’t have it.”
Vanessa’s voice hardened.
“You stole mine.”
“No. You invented one.”
Ortiz gestured.
Keep talking.
Claire looked around.
“What happens when you become me, Vanessa? You think Alexander won’t notice?”
Another silence.
Claire smiled despite her fear.
“You can copy my hair. My signature. My clothes. You can’t make him love you.”
Vanessa screamed.
“You don’t know what love is!”
The line went dead.
Ortiz stared at the trace.
They had a location.
Not near Canada.
Not outside New York.
May you like
Vanessa was calling from a building directly across the street from the hospital.
And she had been watching Claire’s window the entire time.
