Chương 13
“What are you thinking about?”
“Whether someone inside this hospital is helping Leon.”
I stared at him.
“You think he has another person here?”
“Mercer had access.”
“He’s in custody.”
“Yes.”
“So who else?”
“We don’t know.”
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
Ruiz and I both looked at it.
“Answer on speaker.”
I did.
No one spoke.
I heard breathing.
Then a man’s voice said, “Emily.”
My body went cold.
Ruiz immediately began signaling to another detective.
“Who is this?”
“You know.”
I did not.
But the confidence in his voice told me he expected me to.
“Leon?”
A faint laugh.
“You sound like your mother.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
Ruiz mouthed, Keep him talking.
“What do you want?”
“Tell the police to leave my sister alone.”
“My mother is your sister?”
“You know that now.”
“You hurt Noah.”
“No.”
The answer came quickly.
Too quickly.
“You were in the shed.”
Silence.
That was enough for me.
“Were you?”
“You shouldn’t believe everything a scared kid says.”
My vision narrowed.
Ruiz touched my arm once, grounding me.
“What happened to him?”
“Margaret lost control.”
“And you?”
“I cleaned up messes.”
The way he said it made my stomach turn.
“What does that mean?”
“You want answers, tell them to release her.”
“That isn’t going to happen.”
“Then we have nothing to talk about.”
“Wait.”
The word tore out of me.
The line remained open.
Ruiz held up one finger.
They were tracing the call.
“You took Ava from school.”
Leon exhaled.
“You don’t know the story.”
“Tell me.”
“She wasn’t supposed to stay with Margaret that long.”
“What was supposed to happen?”
“Not your business.”
“It became my business when my son nearly died.”
“Your son should’ve stayed out of the shed.”
Every part of me wanted to scream.
Instead I said, “He’s six.”
“That never stopped anybody from causing trouble.”
The phrase sounded practiced.
Not rage.
Justification.
Maybe that was worse.
“Where are you?”
He laughed again.
“Ask your detective.”
Ruiz’s jaw tightened.
“He thinks he’s smarter than everyone.”
“You know Ruiz?”
Another silence.
I looked at Ruiz.
He shook his head once.
“No,” Leon said finally.
But the answer came late.
Ruiz stepped away and began texting rapidly.
I kept talking.
“What did Mercer pay you for?”
The breathing on the other end changed.
“You really have been busy.”
“Was it for children?”
“Careful.”
“With what?”
“With accusing people who have more to lose than you.”
The threat was indirect enough to be deliberate.
I looked through the ICU window at Noah.
“I already almost lost everything.”
“No.”
Leon’s voice softened.
“That’s the problem with people like you.”
“What people?”
“You think almost counts.”
A chill moved through me.
Then he said, “Go check on Ava.”
The line went dead.
I turned toward Ruiz.
He was already running.
The floor alarm sounded less than ten seconds later.
Not a fire alarm.
A security alert.
The officer outside Noah’s room shut and locked the door.
I called Sofia.
No answer.
Again.
No answer.
My pulse hammered in my throat.
“Let me out.”
The officer shook his head.
“Ma’am, I can’t.”
“My friend’s daughter is upstairs.”
“I understand.”
“No, you don’t.”
He held his position.
Noah began crying.
Not loudly.
Just silently, the way he had before.
I turned back to him.
Every instinct in me split down the middle.
Go.
Stay.
Protect Ava.
Protect Noah.
I had spent the entire day wanting to be useful somewhere else.
Now the choice was finally clear because one terrified little boy was watching me decide whether to leave him.
I sat down.
“I’m staying.”
Noah grabbed my hand.
The officer’s expression changed slightly.
He looked relieved.
I hated that relief too.
Seven minutes later, Ruiz called.
“Sofia’s safe.”
I nearly collapsed.
“What about Ava?”
“Safe.”
“What happened?”
“A respiratory therapist tried to enter her room with medication that wasn’t ordered.”
My blood turned cold.
“Who?”
“We’re identifying him.”
“Is he connected to Leon?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“Where is he?”
“Detained.”
I pressed my forehead to the glass.
“Leon told me to check on Ava.”
“I know.”
“He knew.”
“Yes.”
“So he has someone inside.”
“Yes.”
That answer came without qualification.
For once, certainty was worse.
Ruiz returned twenty minutes later.
His shirt was untucked on one side.
I had never seen him look hurried before.
“The therapist’s name is Calvin Reed.”
“Does he work here?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Four years.”
“Connection to Mercer?”
“Same pediatric transport charity.”
I stared at him.
“What charity?”
“A nonprofit Mercer founded.”
The pieces shifted.
Not into a complete picture.
Into something larger.
Ruiz continued.
“The organization transported medically fragile children between hospitals and temporary care facilities.”
My stomach tightened.
“Temporary care where?”
“Licensed foster placements, shelters, rehabilitation centers.”
“And my mother?”
“Not licensed.”
“No.”
“We found her phone number in the charity’s internal contact database.”
“Listed as what?”
Ruiz hesitated.
“Emergency housing.”
I laughed once because the alternative was vomiting.
“The shed?”
“We don’t know if that’s what the entry meant.”
“Of course not.”
He let the sarcasm pass.
“Reed had an unauthorized syringe.”
“What was in it?”
“Lab is working on it.”
“Was he going to inject Ava?”
“That appears to be what hospital security interrupted.”
I looked at Noah.
“He said Grandma gave Ava a shot.”
“Yes.”
“Same kind of medication?”
“We’ll compare them.”
The officer opened the door and stepped into the hallway.
The lockdown had not been lifted, but immediate danger on the unit had eased.
Ruiz lowered his voice.
“There’s more.”
I almost told him I did not want more.
Then I nodded.
“Reed had a second badge.”
“Whose?”
“Mercer’s.”
My mouth went dry.
“How?”
“We’re asking.”
“Mercer gave it to him?”
“Possibly.”
“What would it let him access?”
“Restricted areas.”
I looked toward the elevators.
“Like ICU.”
“Yes.”
My phone buzzed.
This time it was Sofia.
She sent only three words.
Ava is awake.
I called immediately.
Sofia answered crying.
May you like
“She wants to talk to Noah.”
I looked at him.
