Chapter 2 - The scream came from the kitchen.It was loud enough to cut through the thunder.
Frank drew his pistol.
Every guard moved.
I didn't.
I was still staring at the darkness where my son's crib had been.
“Noah!”
Emergency lights flickered on.
Red.
Dim.
Unnatural.
The backup generator had activated.
I could barely see the nursery.
“Find my son.”
A paramedic lifted a flashlight.
“He's here.”
I dropped beside Noah.
His chest moved once.
Then twice.
Weak.
But moving.
Emily immediately reached for him.
“Don't.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
“He's still unstable.”
The lead paramedic checked his pulse.
“Thirty-eight.”
Emily crouched beside him.
“Don't warm him.”
The medic finally listened.
He turned off the heating equipment.
Noah's breathing remained weak, but the monitor began showing irregular electrical activity.
Something was changing.
“Get him oxygen,” Emily said.
The paramedic snapped back.
“You don't command my team.”
“Then let him die.”
He stared at her.
I stepped between them.
“Do what she says.”
He hesitated.
Then placed the oxygen mask over Noah's tiny face.
Within seconds, the saturation climbed.
Everyone stared.
The medic swallowed.
“That shouldn't have happened.”
Emily said nothing.
She was looking at the floor.
At the vial.
Someone retrieved it.
The white powder had a faint yellow stain.
Emily took one look.
Then her face changed.
“What is it?” I demanded.
She didn't answer.
“Emily.”
“There's no time.”
She pointed toward Noah.
“He needs an antidote.”
“Which one?”
“That's the problem.”
“You just said you knew what it was.”
“I know the class.”
“Then name it.”
She looked at the vial again.
“Organophosphate.”
The paramedics reacted immediately.
One reached for his radio.
“Possible organophosphate poisoning.”
The lead medic's expression became serious.
But Emily shook her head.
“Don't give atropine yet.”
He stopped.
“What?”
“He may not have enough exposure for that.”
The medic stared at her.
“You know the protocol?”
“I know when someone is trying to make a death look like a natural cardiac event.”
My blood ran cold.
“Make a death?”
She nodded.
“This wasn't designed to kill him immediately.”
“Then what was it designed to do?”
“To make everyone think they failed.”
The room suddenly felt smaller.
The nanny appeared in the doorway.
“Mr. Carter…”
I turned.
She was crying.
“What's wrong?”
“Someone was in the kitchen.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
Frank stepped forward.
“The security cameras?”
“Cut.”
I froze.
“All of them?”
He nodded.
“Nursery. Kitchen. Hallways. Exterior cameras. Everything went offline twelve minutes ago.”
Twelve minutes.
Exactly when Noah had started choking.
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
One message.
DON'T TAKE THE BABY TO THE HOSPITAL.
Another message appeared.
THEY'RE ALREADY THERE.
I stared at the screen.
Frank saw it.
“Who sent that?”
“I don't know.”
Emily stepped closer.
“Show me.”
I handed her the phone.
She read it.
Then she looked at me.
“They're watching the house.”
“How?”
She looked upward.
“The cameras are dead.”
“Then how do they know?”
She pointed toward Noah's crib.
I followed her finger.
A tiny red light blinked beneath the wooden railing.
“What is that?”
Frank pulled it out.
A miniature camera.
My stomach twisted.
It had been positioned directly above Noah's face.
Someone had been watching him.
Inside my home.
Inside my son's nursery.
For how long?
Frank examined the device.
“Wireless transmission.”
“Can you trace it?”
“Maybe.”
Emily suddenly grabbed my wrist.
“Mr. Carter.”
Her voice was urgent.
“Your son wasn't the target.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
She pointed at the camera.
“This was.”
I didn't understand.
She whispered:
“They wanted to know whether you would panic.”
My heart stopped.
“Why?”
Emily looked toward the nursery door.
“Because panic makes rich men predictable.”
A phone rang downstairs.
Not mine.
Not Frank's.
A landline.
The private line nobody used except my family.
Frank went pale.
“That line shouldn't work.”
We moved toward the hallway.
The ringing continued.
I picked up.
Nobody spoke.
Then a distorted voice said:
“You should have let him die.”
I gripped the receiver.
“Who are you?”
The voice laughed softly.
Then:
“Ask Emily.”
I turned.
Emily had gone completely white.
The line went dead.
I looked at her.
“Why did he say your name?”
She didn't answer.
Instead, she walked into the nursery.
She looked at Noah.
Then at me.
May you like
And finally whispered:
“Because this isn't the first time someone has tried to kill your son.”
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