Page 5 of The Right to Remain

“People pay six figures for a gestational carrier. What makes them right and us criminals?”

“That’s not at all the same thing. Stop rationalizing. You’re not thinking clearly.”

Helena peered into the nursery through the glass, her gaze drifting across the newborns in their bassinets until, finally, she locked on tothe one.

“This is the closest we’ve come to a family,” she said in a distant voice. “The closest we’llevercome.”

Owen didn’t answer right away. “Let’s put aside for the moment that it’s a crime. How do you expect me to come up with a quarter million dollars, just like that?”

Helena looked him in the eye. “I’m not leaving this hospital without our baby.”

“That’s the second time you’ve said those words since we arrived at the hospital.”

“Thank you, Owen.”

“For what?”

She kissed him. “Paying attention.”

Chapter 1

Six Years Later

It was almost midnight.

Helena was alone in the living room, seated in the armchair facing an empty, never-been-used fireplace. The bay window was alight with the swirl of police beacons in the driveway. Helena felt numb, as her gaze followed flashes of red and blue light cutting across the white walls. Chantilly-lace white. She’d had those walls painted and repainted six times before settling on the exact shade of white she liked. Back then, Owen would have let her sample the decorator’s entire color spectrum to make her happy. Decorating their home had become her go-to diversion to cheer herself up after one failed attempt at pregnancy after another. The adoption had ended that silliness and made her the happiest mother in Miami.

For a time.

A detective from the Miami-Dade Police Department came down the stairs and stopped at the entrance to the living room. Osborne was his name. He was a large man with a deep voice that sounded even deeper in the dimly lit room.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Pollard. The forensic team will be upstairs in the bedroom for a little while longer. But I just want to confirm a few details,” he said as he retrieved his pen and pad from his coat pocket. “You said you were at your mother’s house, in Fort Lauderdale, all day, and your husband called you on your cell around... what time did you say?”

It was the third time he’d asked Helena to confirm the time. It was starting to feel like a quiz. “Seven p.m.,” she said.

“And your husband said... what again?”

This was getting annoying. “He asked me to please come home. So, I did.”

“And you got here... when?”

“Same time I told you before. Around eight thirty.”

He tucked the pad and pen away. “Got it. I’m going back into the kitchen now. Is there anything you need, ma’am?”

Helena turned her attention back to the colored flashes of police beacons on the wall. “No, nothing. Thank you.”

“Don’t hesitate to let me know if there’s anything I can do,” he said.

Helena didn’t answer. He turned and entered the kitchen, leaving Helena alone.

Her day had begun without surprises. She woke before Owen, as always, went to the kitchen, and made coffee. He didn’t want coffee, or at least not the coffee she’d made for him. She offered to make breakfast. He wasn’t hungry, at least not for any food she might prepare for him. She asked about his plans for the day. He didn’t have any, or at least none that he wanted to share with her. It had started like most other days of late. Then it took a very different turn. After Owen had gone to work, Helena packed a suitcase for herself. And one for Austen.

The detective emerged from the kitchen. Helena noticed something in his hand as he approached.

“The forensic team found a list on the countertop,” he said, softening his deep voice a bit.

Helena looked at him. “What kind of list?”