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“Right,” I sigh.
“He’s trying to keep you safe too. He can get in touch with me if he needs to, and he has a way to communicate with his lawyer.”
That comes as a surprise to me. “Are lawyers allowed to do that? Work with a wanted person who won’t turn themselves in?”
Milo chuckles and rubs his cold hands together. “Lowell is a hell of a lawyer because he has no problem skirting the line or stepping over it occasionally. I imagine you learn a few things representing criminals and he’s defended some bad ones. But that’s the lawyer you want in a situation like this.”
That’s good to know. “It should all be over soon. Once he shows that the dental records match Alden and not Oliver, they’ll have to dismiss the case.”
“That’s the plan. In the meantime, he’s safe, and staying someplace where he won’t be seen.”
I take a deep breath. “Good. The story is all over the internet again. If you have any problems here, let me know. I’m not going to open my studio anytime soon.”
“We’ll be fine here.”
I look over at Milo. “He’s alive,” I whisper. “It’s like a miracle.”
Milo nods and tugs at his beard. “As far as I’m concerned, it is a miracle.” His voice cracks when he adds, “We got him back.”
CHAPTER10
My anxiety grows as the afternoon passes without a return call from Lowell. How hard can it be to get records from a dental clinic? I’m tempted to call to get them myself, but Alden told me not to do that. He wants everything to go through the lawyer.
There’s something I have to do while I wait. Most of Alden’s things have been packed away and stored in the garage and the spare room. I’m glad that I couldn’t part with them. It’s time to unpack everything and put our home back to how it was.
It’s a soothing activity. Hanging his shirts in the empty side of our closet seems to really bring it home to me. My Den is coming back. Once all of this bullshit has passed, he’ll be here to kiss me goodnight every night and to smile at me every morning.
I’m returning his electric razor to its former spot on our sink when Lowell finally calls me back.
“Ella, I’ve spoken with the Midtown Dental Clinic. I’m afraid it’s not good news.” My heart falls. How could he have bad news? Have they already been in for an exam?
“What happened?”
“Midtown switched all of their records to a digital database a few years ago and the physical copies were not retained. Unfortunately, whoever does their I.T. is an idiot. Due to a server failure nine months ago, they don’t have records for Alden or Oliver. For any of their patients.”
“You have to be fucking kidding me. They’ve gone there since they were kids!” This can’t be happening.
“I know. A case could be made against them for not maintaining medical documents for the required amount of time, but that won’t help us now.”
“Does Alden know?”
Lowell pauses for a moment, and I realize the issue. If they’re listening in to my calls to try to find Alden, he can’t be heard claiming to be in touch with him. Instead of answering me, he asks, “To your knowledge, was there ever a visit to another dentist? An emergency when this one wasn’t available? A dental surgeon? An orthodontist?”
“Not that I remember.” God, I wish their mother was still alive to answer these questions. “Neither had braces,” I add.
“I’ll check with the other dental offices in the area to be sure. I’ve reached out to a forensic biologist to see what other options we have to differentiate them. Can you think of any other medical procedure or illness that one of them might have on record? A surgery, a broken bone? Does Alden have any scars? Did Oliver?”
Fear makes my stomach bubble. “The only scars on Alden are from the robbery. Oliver didn’t have any that I know of either. No tattoos or piercings or anything.” It’s killing me that I can’t help.
I can hear him tapping a pen on something while he thinks. “Okay, I’m going to need you to email me if you think of any medical providers that you can recall treating Oliver or Alden. I’ll request copies of both of their medical records from their pediatrician and family doctors. Hopefully, we’ll find some discrepancy.”
“What if you don’t?” I ask. “Then what’s the next step?”
He sighs. “I’m going to be honest. Without hard evidence of this claim, I don’t see a way to use it for his defense. Mistaken identity will get us laughed out of the courtroom. Changing his story from ‘I don’t remember if I did the crime’ to ‘I’m actually the victim of said crime’ will be torn apart by the prosecution.”
“But it’s true!” I cry.
“The truth doesn’t matter, only what I can prove to a judge or jury. I’m sorry. I’ll get back to you once I have the medical reports. Let me know if you remember anything else that may be helpful. And as I’ve said before, the best thing he can do right now is turn himself in so if you hear from him, please remind him that I advise him to do so.”
