My fingers tightened around the blanket.
“Who?”
“The caller identified herself as your sister.”
“Whitney.”
“Yes.”
“What did she want?”
Mrs. Alvarez’s expression was careful. “She asked whether there had been any complications, whether the baby was healthy, and whether a birth announcement had been filed.”
“Birth announcement?”
“Yes.”
Richard leaned forward. “Did staff give her information?”
Mrs. Alvarez looked uncomfortable. “A newer volunteer may have confirmed the baby’s first name before a nurse intervened. We are reviewing procedures.”
A volunteer.
A leak small enough to seem harmless.
A name. A glimpse. A photograph through glass.
But Whitney had kept it.
He looks like her.
“Did she come to the hospital?” I asked.
Mrs. Alvarez looked at her notes.
“There is a visitor entry under Whitney Hayes the next afternoon.”
My heart sank.
“She told me she couldn’t come,” I said.
Evelyn’s face softened with sorrow.
