“Her earliest records trace to a hospital, Claire.” Nora looked up, crying. “It’s the hospital where you delivered Lucy.”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” I said. “Hundreds of babies are born there.”
“The dates matched too.”
Then I remembered the cheek swab I’d given the week before — Nora had said it might help with Ellie’s family medical history. I’d thought nothing of it.
Nora pushed the final document toward me.
Two names. Mine. And Ellie’s.
A preliminary genetic comparison.
