Chương 12
“What happened?”
Ruiz looked at me.
“Leon’s phone just connected to the hospital Wi-Fi.”
Every person in the hallway seemed to move at once.
The officer outside Noah’s room pulled the door closed.
Ruiz spoke into his radio while the charge nurse locked the double doors leading into the unit.
I ran to Noah’s bedside.
He looked up from the television.
“What happened?”
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
“That means something happened.”
He was six and irritatingly correct.
The officer stepped inside and positioned himself near the door.
Noah stared at the holster on his belt.
“Is there a bad guy?”
I sat on the edge of the chair and took his hand.
“There might be somebody in the building who isn’t supposed to be here.”
“Grandma?”
“No.”
“Aunt Maddie?”
“No.”
He thought about it.
“The man?”
My skin prickled.
“What man?”
Noah looked toward the officer, then back at me.
“The one from the shed.”
I stopped breathing for a second.
“What man from the shed?”
The officer’s posture changed.
Noah’s fingers curled around mine.
“He came before Grandma gave Ava the shot.”
“What did he look like?”
Noah frowned.
I could see him trying to obey and protect himself at the same time.
“You don’t have to answer.”
“He had a beard.”
“Anything else?”
“He smelled bad.”
The detail sounded useless until Noah added, “Like Grandpa’s garage.”
My father’s garage had always smelled of gasoline and cigarettes.
“Was it Leon?”
I hated myself as soon as I said the name.
Noah’s eyes widened.
“You know him?”
I had just given him information he had never offered.
Karen’s warnings returned too late.
“I’m sorry.”
He pulled his hand away.
“You said you didn’t know.”
“I didn’t.”
“You do now.”
“Yes.”
His face closed.
I had spent half the day furious at adults who contaminated facts, hid truths, steered children, and made everything about their own fear.
Then I had done a smaller version of the same thing in one sentence.
“I shouldn’t have asked you that way.”
Noah looked back at the television.
“I don’t want to talk.”
“Okay.”
The officer’s radio crackled.
A voice announced that security had identified the device connecting from a public waiting area near outpatient imaging on the first floor.
Ruiz appeared at our door long enough to say, “Stay here.”
Then he was gone.
I did not tell Noah the police were searching the building for the man he had just described.
I sat beside him instead.
The cartoon dragon had moved on from pancakes to accidentally flooding a kitchen.
Noah watched without smiling.
Five minutes passed.
Then ten.
The officer remained near the door.
My phone buzzed with a message from Sofia.
Are you locked down too?
I typed yes.
She responded immediately.
They won’t tell me why.
I stared at the words.
Ava was somewhere above us.
If Leon had come for anyone, she made more sense than Noah.
I looked at the officer.
“Is the pediatric ICU upstairs protected?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“They have officers there.”
“How many?”
“I don’t know.”
I called Sofia.
She answered in a whisper.
“What’s happening?”
“Police think Leon may be inside the hospital.”
She inhaled sharply.
“Here?”
“Yes.”
I heard movement on her end.
Then a man said something I could not make out.
Sofia’s voice rose.
“My daughter is on this floor.”
“I know.”
“What does he want?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’m going into her room.”
“Do that.”
She ended the call.
Noah looked at me.
“You said Leon.”
I closed my eyes.
There was no way to retrieve the name now.
“Yes.”
“That’s the man.”
Every hair on my arms lifted.
“You recognize the name?”
“Ava told me.”
The officer glanced toward us.
I forced myself not to ask another question.
“What did she tell you?”
Noah hesitated.
Then he answered anyway.
“She said Leon was the one who took her.”
The officer immediately raised his radio.
I held up a hand.
“Wait.”
He paused.
“She also said,” Noah continued, “he works for the doctor.”
The sentence landed with a different kind of horror because Mercer was already in custody.
I leaned closer.
“Which doctor?”
Noah gave me the look children give adults who have missed something obvious.
“The doctor from Grandma’s phone.”
I felt cold.
“What phone?”
“The secret one.”
“You saw it?”
“Sometimes.”
He pulled the blanket higher against his chest.
“She had pictures.”
I remembered the second phone found under my mother’s mattress.
“What kind of pictures?”
“People.”
“Did you see Dr. Mercer?”
Noah shook his head.
“I don’t know his name.”
I reached for my own phone and stopped.
Showing him a photograph could ruin whatever identification investigators might later need.
For once, I caught myself before making the mistake.
The officer radioed Ruiz without using Noah’s words directly.
He said only that the child had provided potentially urgent information requiring a forensic response.
Ruiz answered that he was on his way back.
That scared me more than if he had stayed downstairs.
“What happened with Leon?” I asked when he returned.
Ruiz kept his voice low.
“The device was found in a trash can.”
“No Leon?”
“No.”
“He left the phone as a distraction.”
“That’s possible.”
“Or somebody else connected it.”
“Yes.”
I looked toward the ceiling.
“Ava.”
“We have officers with her.”
“How do you know he isn’t already upstairs?”
“Security footage is being reviewed.”
“Reviewed is past tense work.”
Ruiz did not argue.
He asked the officer to remain with us, then stepped into the hallway with me.
“You said Noah mentioned Mercer?”
“He didn’t use Mercer’s name.”
I told him exactly what Noah had said and exactly what I had asked.
I included my mistake with Leon’s name.
Ruiz listened without judging.
“Good that you told me.”
“I contaminated it.”
“You may have influenced part of his memory.”
The directness hurt.
“But what he said before and after still matters.”
May you like
“Will anyone believe him?”
“That is not the standard I’m thinking about right now.”
