Autopsied by My Mother

Chapter 3 The Ticket to Nowhere

A locomotive crossed a trestle bridge on the token. Beneath the train, one word had been stamped in block letters: FREEDOM.

The token came from the Aurora Express, a scenic train that ran up the coast to Seattle.

My father stepped back with a palm against his chest. His eyes stayed on the token. I remembered standing beside his desk last week with my passport application in hand.

“Seattle?” He kept reading his papers. “What’s in Seattle for a girl like you? Another artist commune where you can waste your time?”

“I want to see the ocean,” I said. “I want to start over.”

He took the application from me, tore it in half, then into quarters, and dropped the pieces in his wastebasket.

“You’re going nowhere, Harper. Your place is here, supporting your sister. Enough of this childish nonsense.”

The plan he had torn up now sat on a steel tray. His Jane Doe had bought a ticket north and meant to leave.

Julian turned to the uniformed officer at the door. “Seal Harper’s bedroom. Treat it as a primary crime scene.”

“You’ll do no such thing!” my father shouted. “That is my house. You will not enter it without my authorization.”

Julian met his eyes. “It is also the bedroom of a missing woman who planned to flee. She may be your daughter. I’m securing it.”

My father’s face darkened. He gave no countermand.

Ten minutes passed. My mother stood beside the table with her eyes fixed on the token.

The officer’s radio crackled.

“Unit at the Lancaster residence. The room is clear.” The responding officer paused. “Sir, you need to hear this.”

Everyone waited.

“The closet has no clothes. There are no books on the shelves, and every drawer is empty. The bed is stripped to the bare mattress. It looks as though no one has lived there for months.”

I had packed a little at a time so no one would notice.

The radio clicked again. “Wait. One white envelope on the desk.”

My father put both hands against the glass.

“Open it.” His throat caught on the words.

“It’s a legal document. A Declaration of Severance, signed by Harper Lancaster. It formally renounces every family tie, claim, and inheritance from the Lancaster family.”

His frozen credit card couldn't drive me home. I had already left.

My mother bent over the instrument tray and grabbed a bone marrow aspiration needle. It knocked twice against the metal before she got it into position. She was going to take the DNA sample herself.

Before she uncapped it, a forensics technician rushed through the morgue door with one sheet of paper in his hand.

“Dr. Lancaster. The expedited results from the victim’s hair are in.”