Chapter 3: What the Report Was Really For
Ryan set the medical report on the changing table and read it again from the top.
The language was clinical.
Precise.
Written by someone who knew exactly what words a family court judge would find alarming.
*Chronic respiratory instability.
Developmental regression consistent with environmental neglect.
Recommend immediate review of primary caregiver suitability.*
He looked at the signature.
Dr.
Harlan Briggs.
Below the name, a clinic address in a suburb forty minutes away.
"Maya." Ryan kept his voice steady.
"Did you ever take Oliver to this clinic?"
"No." She was sitting on the edge of Oliver's bed now, the cold pack still pressed to her face.
"Never.
I didn't even know it existed until she mentioned it two weeks ago.
She said she'd arranged a second opinion because she was worried about his breathing."
"And you let her take him?"
Maya's jaw tightened.
"She didn't take him.
She said the appointment was next Thursday.
She said she wanted us all to go together." Her voice dropped.
"I thought she was trying.
For once."
Ryan turned back to the report.
The date at the top was three weeks ago.
The appointment Evelyn described hadn't happened yet.
But the report already existed.
The officer standing nearby had been listening.
He stepped closer.
"Mr.
Whitmore, I need to take that document."
Ryan handed it over.
"Someone wrote a medical report for an appointment that hasn't happened.
What does that tell you?"
The officer didn't answer directly.
He slid the report into an evidence bag and sealed it.
"It tells me we have more to look at."
Ryan pulled out his phone.
He opened his contacts and found the name of Oliver's actual pediatrician — Dr.
Sandra Okafor.
It was nearly nine in the evening.
He called anyway.
She picked up on the third ring.
"Ryan.
I heard Oliver was taken in tonight.
Is he all right?"
"He's stable.
Sandra, I need to ask you something and I need a straight answer."
"Go ahead."
"Has anyone contacted your office in the last month claiming to be a specialist reviewing Oliver's case?
A Dr.
Harlan Briggs?"
A pause.
"No.
No one by that name.
And any specialist reviewing Oliver would have to come through us.
That's standard protocol." Another pause, shorter.
"Why?"
Ryan looked at the evidence bag in the officer's hand.
"Because someone produced a report under that name saying Oliver is severely ill and that Maya is an unfit caregiver.
And the report is dated three weeks ago."
The silence on the other end of the line lasted long enough that Ryan checked to make sure the call hadn't dropped.
"Ryan," Sandra said carefully, "that kind of report — if it was submitted to a court — it could be used to fast-track an emergency guardianship petition."
"I know."
"Do you have a lawyer?"
"I'm calling one the moment I hang up."
He ended the call and looked at Maya.
She had heard enough.
Her hand had stopped moving against Oliver's back.
"She was going to use a fake doctor," Maya said.
It wasn't a question.
"She already did.
The report exists.
The question is whether she filed it anywhere."
The officer who had bagged the document looked up from his radio.
"Mr.
Whitmore.
We just ran the name Harlan Briggs through the medical licensing database."
Ryan waited.
"There's no licensed physician in this state by that name."
The room went quiet except for the soft hiss of Oliver's oxygen.
Maya looked at Ryan.
"She invented him."
"She invented all of it." Ryan picked up his phone again.
"And if she filed those papers with a court before tonight, we have less time than I thought."
He was already dialing when the officer's radio crackled again.
"Sir." The officer's voice changed.
"Dispatch is saying Mrs.
Whitmore is asking to speak with her attorney.
She's also claiming she has a witness who can confirm Maya's behavior tonight."
May you like
Ryan stopped dialing.
"What witness?"
