Chương 10
For several seconds, I stared at the surgeon’s face on the laptop and tried to force it into the category where I had placed him that morning.
Doctor.
Professional.
Safe person.
The categories refused to hold.
“What’s his name?”
The detective checked the screen.
“Dr. Aaron Mercer.”
I knew it before she finished saying it.
He had introduced himself beside the ICU doors while I was still wearing yesterday’s clothes and smelling like airplane coffee.
He had spoken softly about Noah’s injuries.
He had told me to prepare for complications.
He had put one hand on my shoulder when my knees nearly gave out.
Now I watched grainy footage of him climbing out of Leon Vance’s truck.
“When was this?”
“Forty-three minutes ago.”
I looked toward Noah’s room.
“Is he in the hospital?”
Ruiz was already calling security.
The other detective shook her head.
“His badge hasn’t registered at an employee entrance since eleven-twenty.”
“That doesn’t mean he isn’t here.”
“No.”
Ruiz ended the call.
“Security is checking cameras and restricting access to pediatric floors.”
My chest tightened.
“Noah.”
“We’re moving an officer outside his room.”
“Why would Mercer come after him?”
“Nobody said he would.”
“You don’t need to.”
I stepped toward the ICU door.
Ruiz caught up.
“Emily.”
“I’m staying with my son.”
“That’s fine.”
“I’m not leaving him alone with anyone.”
“That’s also fine.”
The nurse at Noah’s station looked alarmed when two security officers appeared.
Karen was called back.
Within minutes, the quiet routine of the unit changed without becoming visibly chaotic.
Doors were checked.
Badges were verified.
A charge nurse spoke into a phone in a low voice and moved a tray of medications away from the hall.
Noah noticed everything.
“Are we in trouble?”
“No.”
“Then why is that police guy standing there?”
He pointed toward the officer outside his room.
“He’s helping.”
“With what?”
I pulled the blinds on the hallway window halfway down.
“With making sure nobody bothers you.”
Noah frowned.
“I don’t like him looking at me.”
The officer heard and turned his body so his back faced the glass.
Noah considered that acceptable.
“Can I have fries now?”
“No.”
“This hospital is bad.”
“I’ll put that in the survey.”
He nodded solemnly and returned to his cartoon.
I sat beside him and tried not to think about Dr. Mercer standing over my child during surgery.
The thought failed.
“What exactly did he do to Noah?”
I asked Ruiz when he came back.
“He was the attending surgeon.”
“What does that mean?”
“He led the surgical team.”
“He had Noah unconscious on a table.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re telling me he may be involved with the man who brought Ava to my mother?”
“We are investigating that connection.”
“Could he have hurt Noah during surgery?”
Ruiz’s face changed.
“We have no evidence of that.”
“Could he?”
“That’s a medical question.”
“Then get me someone medical.”
Karen stepped in before Ruiz answered.
“We already are.”
A second pediatric surgeon reviewed Noah’s chart.
Then another.
They compared operative notes, imaging, medication records, and the electronic access history attached to Noah’s file.
I sat through explanations I barely understood.
Nothing in the surgery itself immediately suggested intentional harm.
The procedure had been necessary.
The injuries had existed before Noah reached the hospital.
The anesthetic dosing was within expected ranges.
The blood loss matched the trauma.
I should have felt relieved.
Instead, another question replaced the first.
“Why would Mercer treat him at all?”
Nobody could answer.
At five-thirty, a hospital administrator arrived with a lawyer.
That frightened me more than the police officer.
The administrator introduced herself as Rebecca Lang.
She wore a navy suit and no expression I could interpret.
“We are cooperating fully with law enforcement.”
“I don’t care about the hospital.”
Her eyes flickered.
“I care about my son.”
“Of course.”
“Don’t say of course.”
She stopped.
I hated myself slightly for snapping at her and did not take it back.
“Has Dr. Mercer accessed Noah’s chart since surgery?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
Rebecca looked at the lawyer.
The lawyer looked at Ruiz.
Ruiz looked irritated.
Finally Rebecca answered.
“At ten-forty-two this morning.”
“What did he open?”
“The medication administration record.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why?”
“We don’t know.”
“Was he supposed to?”
“He remained listed as an attending physician on the case.”
“That is not what I asked.”
“No.”
Her answer came quietly.
“He did not need to access that section at that time.”
Ruiz asked, “Anything else?”
Rebecca swallowed.
“He opened the family contact page.”
The room went very still.
“What’s on that?”
I asked.
“Your phone number.”
I stood so abruptly Noah looked over.
I forced my face to soften.
“Bathroom.”
He accepted that explanation and went back to the cartoon.
In the hallway, I turned on Ruiz.
“He has my number.”
“Yes.”
“He knows where we are.”
“Yes.”
“He knows Ava is here.”
Ruiz hesitated.
“Potentially.”
“What does that mean?”
“He could have seen her transfer information if he accessed the right system, but we don’t know whether he did.”
Rebecca said, “His account has been disabled.”
“Now?”
Her face tightened.
“Yes.”
“After police showed you footage of him with a suspected kidnapper?”
“We acted as soon as we had enough information.”
I laughed once.
It sounded ugly.
“Everybody acts as soon as they have enough information.”
Ruiz watched me.
I knew what he was hearing.
Me talking about the hospital.
Me talking about police.
Me talking about myself.
I turned away.
At six, my ex-husband finally reached me from overseas.
Mark had been traveling between bases and had only received the emergency messages after landing.
His face appeared on my phone from a dim military dorm room.
For one second, neither of us spoke.
Then he said, “Let me see him.”
I carried the phone to Noah.
“Dad?”
Noah’s whole expression changed.
He tried to sit up too quickly and winced.
Mark saw it.
“What happened?”
The question came out sharp.
May you like
Noah looked at me.
I put the phone on a stand beside the bed.
