Chapter 7 - The Empty BedThe hallway erupted.
Nurses ran.
An alarm sounded.
Police flooded the floor.
My daughter's bed was empty.
Her blanket was on the floor.
The window was locked.
The room had one door.
Two officers had been stationed outside.
Nobody could explain how she had disappeared.
I felt my lungs collapse.
“Where is my daughter?”
Harris grabbed the nearest officer.
“You were at the door.”
“Yes.”
“Did anyone enter?”
“No.”
“Who moved down the hallway?”
The officer looked pale.
“A hospital volunteer.”
“What volunteer?”
“We're checking.”
I ran.
Harris caught up with me.
“Don't do anything stupid.”
“Find her.”
“We will.”
“No.”
I shoved his hand away.
“You don't understand.”
I pointed toward the hallway.
“She knows something we don't.”
Thirty seconds later, security footage showed a woman in medical scrubs pushing a laundry cart.
Face covered.
Hat low.
The cart entered the service elevator.
Harris swore.
“Seal the exits.”
Every officer moved.
The elevator descended.
They found the woman on the fourth basement level.
Alone.
The cart was empty.
Emma was gone.
Then someone noticed a small pink hair clip on the floor.
Mine.
I had bought it for her.
Harris crouched.
His face hardened.
“She was transferred.”
“What?”
“The cart was a distraction.”
A second camera showed a different person leaving through the loading bay.
A man.
Dark coat.
Victor.
My blood turned to ice.
“He took her.”
Harris grabbed his radio.
“All units. Possible child abduction. Suspect Victor Lane. Silver SUV. Immediate response.”
I followed them downstairs.
Outside, the parking lot was nearly empty.
Then Harris pointed.
The silver SUV.
Abandoned.
Engine cold.
Passenger door open.
A child's shoe lay beside it.
Emma's shoe.
My knees nearly gave out.
“No.”
Harris searched the vehicle.
No child.
No Victor.
Only a note on the dashboard.
He handed it to me.
I opened it.
Three words.
YOU SHOULD HAVE LEFT.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Where is she?”
Victor spoke calmly.
“You're angry.”
“Where is my daughter?”
“You had a choice.”
“What choice?”
“You should have signed the agreement.”
“What agreement?”
A pause.
“The one your wife gave you.”
“I never saw it.”
“You did.”
“I didn't.”
He laughed.
“She knows.”
“Who?”
“Melissa.”
I clenched my jaw.
“What does she know?”
Victor answered:
“That you weren't supposed to survive the divorce with your reputation intact.”
The line went dead.
Then my phone buzzed.
A video.
Seven seconds long.
I pressed play.
Emma sat on a chair.
She wasn't hurt.
But she was frightened.
Victor stood behind her.
He leaned toward the camera.
“She'll be home when you understand.”
The video ended.
Harris took the phone.
“We'll trace it.”
My phone buzzed again.
Another message.
This one was a photograph.
Emma holding a stuffed rabbit.
Under it:
LOOK INSIDE THE RABBIT.
I stared.
Emma had that rabbit when she was three.
A cheap white stuffed animal with one damaged ear.
I'd never thought much about it.
Harris looked at me.
“Do you have it?”
“It's in our house.”
“Then we're going home.”
The police searched the house again.
They found the rabbit inside Emma's closet.
Its left ear had been carefully stitched.
Harris cut the thread.
Inside was a tiny digital storage card.
I stared at it.
“What is this?”
He inserted it into a reader.
There were twelve files.
Audio.
Video.
Photographs.
The first video opened.
Melissa was sitting in the kitchen.
She wasn't alone.
Victor sat across from her.
And between them lay my divorce papers.
Melissa looked into the camera.
Then smiled.
“Soon,” she said.
Victor asked, “And the father?”
Melissa answered:
“He'll destroy himself.”
Harris stared at the screen.
I kept watching.
Then Melissa leaned toward Victor.
“But there's one thing he doesn't know.”
“What?”
She smiled.
May you like
“Emma isn't the reason I'm doing this.”
The video stopped.
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