CHAPTER 2: THE FLASH DRIVE
The message remained on my screen.
WE KNOW YOU HAVE THE DRIVE.
I read it again.
Then the second message.
AND YOUR DAUGHTER WON'T LEAVE THIS HOSPITAL ALIVE IF YOU OPEN IT.
Emily watched my face.
“Mom?”
I locked my phone.
“Don't worry.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“You always say that when you're worried.”
“I’m not worried.”
That was a lie.
I was furious.
There was a difference.
I picked up the flash drive.
It was small enough to disappear between two fingers.
Black.
Unmarked.
Ordinary.
Yet someone was willing to threaten my daughter's life because of it.
That meant it wasn't ordinary at all.
I slipped it into my uniform pocket.
Emily grabbed my wrist.
“Don't open it.”
“I'm not going to.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
She exhaled.
Then the lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
The heart monitor beside her bed beeped strangely.
I looked toward the hallway.
The security officers were gone.
My instincts immediately changed.
“Emily, stay here.”
“What?”
“Don't move.”
I stepped into the hallway.
Empty.
The nurses' station was twenty yards away.
Nobody was there.
That was wrong.
A hospital at this hour never felt empty.
I walked toward the nurses' station.
A coffee cup sat beside the computer.
Still warm.
A chair was spinning slowly.
Someone had left seconds ago.
I heard footsteps behind me.
I turned.
A nurse stood at the end of the corridor.
She was pushing a medication cart.
“Excuse me,” I called.
She stopped.
“Yes?”
“Where are the security officers assigned to my daughter's room?”
She looked confused.
“I don't know.”
“They were here thirty seconds ago.”
She frowned.
“I'll call security.”
She reached for the phone.
Then the lights went out.
Total darkness.
Emily screamed from the room.
I ran.
I reached her bed in seconds.
“Emily!”
“Mom!”
I found her in the darkness.
Her hands were gripping the blanket.
“Someone was here!”
My pulse exploded.
“Who?”
“I don't know!”
I pulled my phone from my pocket and turned on the flashlight.
The room was empty.
But the window was open.
We were on the seventh floor.
I looked toward it.
The curtains moved in the cold night air.
Then I saw something on the floor.
A black glove.
I picked it up.
Military-grade tactical material.
Not something a hospital visitor wore.
I immediately understood.
This wasn't a Prescott lawyer.
This wasn't a frightened family member.
Someone had entered the room.
Someone trained.
Someone who knew how to move without being noticed.
I turned to Emily.
“Did they touch you?”
“No.”
“Did they say anything?”
She shook her head.
“Did they look for something?”
Emily froze.
Then she whispered:
“The flash drive.”
I stared at her.
“They searched the room?”
“Yes.”
“And they didn't find it.”
“No.”
I looked down at my uniform pocket.
Good.
Very good.
The lights came back.
The nurse rushed into the room.
“Are you both okay?”
I didn't answer.
I looked at the hallway.
Two security officers came running toward us.
But they weren't the same officers who had been outside Emily's room.
I stepped toward them.
“Where were you?”
The older officer looked confused.
“We were called downstairs.”
“By whom?”
He hesitated.
“Hospital administration.”
“Name?”
“I don't know, ma'am.”
I stared at him.
“Then find out.”
He nodded.
But my attention had already moved elsewhere.
A small red light was blinking above the doorway.
A camera.
I pointed at it.
“Who controls hospital security footage?”
The officer answered.
“Security office.”
“Take me there.”
He looked uncertain.
“Ma'am, you're not authorized—”
I stepped closer.
“Someone entered my daughter's hospital room during a power outage.”
His expression changed.
“Understood.”
We walked.
Emily stayed with the nurse.
I hated leaving her.
But I needed answers.
The security office was on the first floor.
A wall of monitors displayed every corridor in the hospital.
The supervisor pulled up the footage.
“Which camera?”
“Seventh floor. Room 718.”
He searched.
Nothing.
The screen showed the corridor.
Then static.
I frowned.
“Go back.”
He rewound.
At 11:42 p.m., the corridor was normal.
At 11:43, the footage turned black.
At 11:46, it returned.
Three minutes.
Three minutes missing.
“That's convenient,” I said.
The supervisor looked nervous.
“I don't know why that happened.”
“Who has access to the system?”
“IT.”
“Names.”
He hesitated.
I looked at him.
He swallowed.
“Three administrators.”
“Call them.”
“I can't call them this late.”
“You can.”
He reached for the phone.
Then stopped.
“Colonel…”
“What?”
“One of them is already here.”
My eyes narrowed.
“Who?”
Before he could answer, the office door opened.
A tall man walked inside.
Black suit.
Gray tie.
Perfect hair.
I recognized him immediately.
Richard Cole.
The Prescott attorney.
He looked at me.
Then smiled.
“Colonel Hart.”
I turned slowly.
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to ensure everyone's safety.”
I laughed.
“You're doing a terrible job.”
His smile disappeared.
“I heard there was an incident.”
“There was.”
“Is Emily all right?”
“She is.”
“Good.”
He stepped closer.
“I would hate for anything unfortunate to happen to her.”
I studied him.
Then I noticed something.
His right hand.
A small cut across his knuckle.
Fresh.
My eyes moved to his shoes.
Hospital floor dust.
He had been upstairs.
Recently.
I looked back at his face.
“You were there.”
He didn't blink.
“Where?”
“Outside my daughter's room.”
“I've never been on the seventh floor.”
“Interesting.”
I walked toward him.
“You have blood on your cuff.”
He immediately looked down.
For half a second.
That was enough.
He had reacted.
I smiled.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For confirming it.”
His face hardened.
“You're making a serious mistake.”
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“You made the mistake.”
I pulled out my phone.
“Because I just remembered something.”
“What?”
“I wasn't alone in Emily's room.”
His eyes narrowed.
“My daughter saw the intruder.”
Richard went completely still.
I continued.
“And she described him.”
A lie.
Emily hadn't.
But Richard didn't know that.
“What did she say?” he asked.
There it was.
Fear.
Small.
But real.
I smiled.
“She said he had a scar.”
Richard's face changed.
“What kind of scar?”
I said nothing.
He had just given himself away.
He knew exactly who I meant.
I turned to the security supervisor.
“Call the police.”
Richard stepped forward.
“You don't want to do that.”
“I do.”
“You don't understand what you're dealing with.”
“I understand perfectly.”
“No, Colonel.”
His voice dropped.
“You don't.”
He leaned closer.
“You think this is about your daughter's marriage.”
I stared at him.
“It isn't.”
“No.”
He smiled.
“This is about something much bigger.”
I waited.
He looked toward the security monitors.
Then back at me.
“Your daughter saw something she wasn't supposed to see.”
My heart stopped for half a second.
“What did she see?”
Richard said nothing.
“Tell me.”
He smiled.
Then the security office door slammed open.
A young hospital employee ran inside.
“Colonel!”
“What?”
“Your daughter is missing.”
Everything inside me went cold.
I ran.
I didn't remember taking the elevator.
I didn't remember crossing the hallway.
I only remembered the seventh-floor doors opening.
Room 718 was empty.
The bed was overturned.
The blanket was on the floor.
Emily's IV line had been ripped out.
Her phone lay shattered beneath the window.
And on the wall, written in red marker, were five words.
YOU SHOULD HAVE LEFT HER.
I stood perfectly still.
Then I noticed something else.
A small piece of paper beneath the bed.
I picked it up.
There was only one sentence.
THE DRIVE ISN'T THE SECRET.
My breathing stopped.
Underneath it was another line.
EMILY IS.
I stared at those words.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
Nobody spoke.
I heard breathing.
Then a man's voice whispered:
“Colonel Hart…”
I gripped the phone.
“Where is my daughter?”
A quiet laugh came through the speaker.
“You've been looking in the wrong direction.”
“Where is she?”
“Ask your daughter what happened the night Ethan's father died.”
My blood turned cold.
“Ethan's father is alive.”
The man laughed again.
“No, Colonel.”
Then the call ended.
I looked at the empty hospital bed.
For the first time that night, I wasn't thinking about Ethan.
I wasn't thinking about Margaret.
I wasn't thinking about Brandon.
I was thinking about Emily.
Because suddenly, one terrifying possibility had entered my mind.
Maybe my daughter hadn't discovered the Prescott family's secret.
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Maybe she had been part of it all along.
And somewhere in that hospital, someone had just taken her to make sure I never learned the truth.
