Chapter 2 - Rebecca Bennett
Police arrived seven minutes later.
By then Diane had stopped shouting.
That frightened Lily more.
Her aunt sat rigidly in a chair between two security officers, staring at the ivory envelope as though it contained a weapon.
Dr. Harris knelt beside Lily.
“A social worker is coming.”
“Am I going home?”
Naomi hesitated.
“With Diane? Not tonight.”
Lily’s eyes filled.
Even after being hit, home still meant Diane.
Her bedroom.
Her stuffed fox.
Her books.
The night-light shaped like a moon.
Children could fear a person and still fear losing them.
Naomi understood that.
A hospital social worker named Elena Ruiz arrived with a representative from Illinois DCFS.
Officer Cole gave police his statement.
Hospital cameras had captured the assault from three angles.
Diane could not plausibly deny it.
She tried anyway.
“She became aggressive.”
Lily stared at her.
Naomi said sharply, “She had abdominal surgery three days ago.”
Diane ignored her.
“I’ve raised that child since infancy.”
Elena sat opposite her.
“We need documentation of guardianship.”
“I gave it to admissions.”
The electronic chart contained a scanned guardianship order dated when Lily was eighteen months old.
At first glance, it appeared valid.
Diane Mercer had been appointed permanent guardian by Cook County Probate Court.
But the older hospital file contradicted the history described in Diane’s petition.
The petition stated:
Mother Rebecca Bennett voluntarily relinquished physical custody shortly after the child’s birth and ceased meaningful contact.
The temporary form in the ivory envelope said something else.
It named Evelyn Bennett—Rebecca and Diane’s mother—as temporary caregiver.
Not Diane.
And Rebecca’s handwritten note specifically objected to Diane receiving permanent custody.
Elena looked at Diane.
“Where is Rebecca Bennett?”
“Gone.”
“Dead?”
Diane paused.
“No.”
Lily’s head snapped up.
No one had ever told her Rebecca was dead.
But Diane had always spoken of her in the past tense.
“She left,” Diane said. “Years ago.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
Lily whispered, “You said she didn’t want me.”
Diane looked at her.
“She didn’t.”
Naomi watched Lily’s face fold inward.
Elena intervened.
“We’re not discussing allegations about her mother in this lobby.”
Diane stood.
“I’m taking my niece home.”
Officer Cole blocked her.
“No.”
“She’s my legal ward.”
“And you were recorded striking her.”
Diane pointed toward Naomi.
“She illegally opened private records using a card that wasn’t hers.”
Naomi felt the accusation land.
Diane was right about one part.
Naomi should not have entered that restricted corridor merely because she was curious and concerned.
A physician’s access to medical information had rules.
So did evidence preservation.
Diane saw the doubt in her expression.
“You know you violated policy.”
Naomi said nothing.
Diane smiled faintly.
The first power reversal had begun.
Police arrested Diane for misdemeanor battery pending review of additional child-abuse allegations.
Her lawyer arrived before she reached the station.
Raymond Sloane.
Naomi recognized the name.
Sloane represented wealthy families, corporate officers, and hospital executives.
He entered wearing a dark overcoat and immediately demanded that Northbridge preserve every security recording and prohibit Dr. Harris from touching any additional records.
“You’re making this about me?” Naomi asked.
“I’m making it about procedure.”
His eyes were calm.
“Procedure is what separates evidence from theater.”
Diane stood behind him.
For the first time since the assault, she looked protected.
Before leaving, she looked directly at Lily.
“You don’t understand what you’ve started.”
Lily recoiled.
Officer Cole stepped between them.
“Keep moving.”
That night, Lily was placed in a temporary licensed foster home while DCFS investigated available relatives.
Naomi hated seeing her leave with strangers.
But she could not take her home.
Doctors did not simply adopt their patients because they were frightened for them.
There were boundaries.
Laws.
Systems.
The same systems someone appeared to have manipulated nine years earlier.
At 10:40 p.m., Naomi met with Northbridge’s compliance officer, Claire Donovan.
Claire placed the restricted card in an evidence sleeve.
“We traced it.”
“To Diane?”
“No.”
Naomi frowned.
“Then who?”
Claire turned her laptop.
The credential belonged to Alan Voss.
Director of Health Information Management.
He had worked at Northbridge for seventeen years.
Naomi knew him.
Everyone did.
Quiet.
Precise.
The man who lectured new residents about patient confidentiality.
“Maybe Diane stole it,” Naomi said.
Claire’s expression remained guarded.
“Maybe.”
“What about the cabinet?”
“That’s the problem.”
“What?”
“Voss told us that cabinet was empty.”
Naomi stared.
“When?”
“During an archive inventory six months ago.”
Claire pulled up access logs.
The card had opened the restricted corridor eleven times during the previous eight weeks.
Most entries occurred between 8:00 and 10:00 p.m.
Alan Voss’s work schedule showed he had already left the hospital on nine of those nights.
Security footage from the most recent entry showed a woman in a cream coat.
Diane.
Naomi felt a chill.
“She’s been going into that room.”
“Yes.”
“What was she doing?”
“We don’t know.”
Claire opened another report.
“Yesterday, someone used Voss’s administrator credentials to search one archived patient name thirty-seven times.”
Naomi knew before Claire said it.
“Rebecca Bennett.”
Claire nodded.
Naomi looked at the old photograph still preserved with the file.
“Why now?”
Claire answered quietly.
“Maybe because Lily was admitted.”
The thought made Naomi’s stomach turn.
Diane had not merely possessed an access card by chance.
Lily’s unexpected hospitalization had brought her into the same building where records of her birth still existed.
Diane had been trying to get to them.
Naomi thought of Lily’s words.
There are letters in my aunt’s desk with my name on them.
“What was Lily trying to tell me?”
Claire shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
But Lily did.
And that evening in the foster home, when Elena Ruiz helped unpack her backpack, a folded envelope fell from inside a math workbook.
Lily stared at it.
“I took that from Aunt Diane’s desk.”
Elena read the front.
It was addressed to Lily.
Postmarked six weeks earlier.
May you like
Return address:
Rebecca Bennett.
